"This morning we'll take the two-hour hydrofoil ride to Athens, where our bus will be waiting to take us to our hotel." So many people were leaving Athens, it took longer than usual to unload the ferries, and our 11:00 boat arrived 15 minutes late. And after we disembarked at Piraeus, and located our bus, we drove into downtown Athens through eerily empty streets.
The Acropolis Select had overbooked (not unknown, according to a review at tripadvisor.com), but since we were a group they had found us space at the upmarket Divani Palace Acropolis, quiet and very comfortable, but a bit gloomy. I did enjoy a long soak in the bathtub, an unusual luxury for me, and much more soothing than the cold pool water.
I spent the afternoon with Bruce and Mia, exploring the National Gardens, which had fewer flowers than the hillsides we had walked in the Peloponnese, just some wisteria and a few small roses. But it made for a quiet, green retreat. Things were winding down. Only two weeks earlier the group had met in Athens for our first dinner, now we would meet for our last. We had packed so much into the two weeks it seemed much longer.
Our last meal together featured good food, good wine, good company, and even a view of the Parthenon. Better still, from the window of the taverna we watched an Easter procession - lots of people with lit candles, one priest in full vestments, two monstrances and a bier like the one we had seen being decorated in Spetses.
"The tour ends after breakfast." The farewell dinner had ended with farewell hugs, and some people had left for the airport before dawn, but when I went down to the lobby, ready to move back to the Hotel Cecil, I did find a few others checking out.
Since not all the museums had closed for the holiday, I was able to spend some quality time at the well-organized Byzantine Museum. In the course of a busy afternoon I had my photos dumped to CD, spent time on the Internet finalizing my plans for Crete, looked in vain for an English-language bookstore, and finished up with cappuccino at the Kydatheneon in the Plaka.
I met Bruce and Mia, who were spending one extra night in Athens, back at the tour hotel, and they led the way to a little taverna they had found just below the Acropolis. We ordered the set meal, classically Greek, tzatziki, salad, souvlaki, with plenty of red wine and a final glass of grappa.
When we realized the owner wanted to close we set off in search of a procession. We stopped a group on the street to ask for help and got lucky - no procession tonight, one man said, but follow us. A theologian who had lived in Australia, he was the cantor at a small, half-renovated church nearby. We squeezed onto seats with the locals, glad we had bought candles, and let the service wash over us. At midnight the dimly-lit church suddenly went completely dark, then the candles blazed into life as the good news was passed - Christos Anesti! (Christ is risen), Aleithos Anesti! (He is risen indeed). A perfect end to the evening.
Below the Acropolis I said a regretful goodbye to Bruce and Mia, who were heading home the next day, before walking alone through the almost deserted, darkened, Plaka to the Cecil. The tour was indeed over, but after Easter I would be heading for the islands.
Design and content © Copyright 2006 - 2007, Kathy Wilhelm
Contact: webms
Intro