Oh, The Wild Joys of Living

Life is fickle. Sometimes, like yesterday, it just keeps kicking you in the ass, even after you’re down. But then life has a change of heart, and not only does it help you back to your feet, but it also showers you with kisses. Today was one of those days. When I woke up, it didn’t really seem like it was going to be such a good day. Our water had still not returned. It was now 72 hours since I’d last had a proper shower. Pretty gross, but in a way, not as bad as yesterday. I was already nasty. One more day didn’t matter so much. I cleaned up as best as I could with bottled water, put on some half-clean half-dirty clothes and headed into town. My plan was to pick up the plane tickets I’d reserved for my mom and me and then just to head back home to wallow like a pig in my filth. The ticket man had other plans for me though. I went in, paid, was issued a receipt and was told to come back in an hour to pick up the actual tickets. Great, I thought, an hour to waste on a Sunday when nothing is open. I headed down Ermou, window-shopping. It was actually nice to be on the street without a million other people usually jostling. At the end of the main shopping area, I stopped and actually paid attention to the small ancient-looking church situated in the middle of the street. Normally I just walk around it as I move from Syntagma to Plaka to Monastiraki. Today, I noticed that the church was actually open. People were going in and out. Something was going on inside. And all along I had just thought it was one of the many random ancient ruins scattered around the city. In Monastiraki, I wandered around the flea market to see what kinds of random things I could find today. Nothing too out of the ordinary jumped out at me, but I mused over the old victrola, the violins with broken strings, the wooden shoe models, and the army helmets. I gathered with a crowd (mostly men) as two potential buyers argued with two potential sellers. The object of interest was an intricately painted vase and bowl set, and the price was at stake. The potential buyers would point out small chips and scratches. The potential sellers would point out the rarity of the pieces. Money was waved around and then returned to the pockets. Voices were raised. Multiple times one would refer to the other as “malaka,” an all-purpose vulgarity that has lost most of its sting through overuse. I was waiting for someone to pick up one of the other pieces resting on the blanket and throw it at the other. But then when everyone’s face was as red as one can imagine a face getting, everyone simply burst out laughing. A deal was made, backs were patted, hands were shook, and everyone went away happy. That, I thought to myself as I stood there, is Greece. Rough and even unappealing on the surface, but underneath jovial and light-hearted. And there’s something about it that won’t let you just walk on by. You have to stop and take part in it all. After moving on from the flea market, I found myself face to face with the Acropolis. I walk by it all the time. I sometimes notice it. But I’ve never actually explored it. I figure I’ll save that for when I have visitors, all who will, of course, want to see it. Today, however, I walked through the gates into the ancient site. On Sundays it is free, so I figured I might as well take a little walk through it all, especially since the day had turned out to be beautiful. I wore my coat, but the sun was warm, and the snow was quickly disappearing like a dream in the day’s light. I didn’t even venture toward the Parthenon or any of the other ruins which typify the site. I wandered through the remains of statues of emperors and up to a small temple. I took in the view and wondered how it had all come to this. It seems odd to me that such magnificent buildings could be allowed to come to ruin. I’m sure it had to do with war and times of economic hardship and changes in government and religion, but still it seems that someone in the thousands of years between when it was built and when it was preserved as a park would have had the insight to maintain it all, if for no other reason than that the buildings are nice and already built and could have been used for something. I’ll leave that thought for now though, because I’m sure it could turn into quite a long tangent. By the time I left the Acropolis, it was time for me to pick up my tickets, so I wandered back through Plaka to the travel agent. He handed me my tickets, I checked them for accuracy, and then I went to grab lunch. I didn’t know the water situation in the house, so I figured it was best to eat out than have to worry about cooking and cleaning without water. After eating, I headed to the metro to go back home, but as I was about to enter the underground network, I heard a band playing and decided to wait to see what it was before continuing my journey home. The square around the metro is under construction, so I had to go to the upper street to check it out, and I found a parade coming towards me. There was a small band of men and women in blue pants and red jackets, playing patriotic sounding music, followed by a group of eight men dressed in traditional costume and carrying Greek flags. At the front of the parade were four women in traditional dress carrying a large wreath. The parade went over to the Tomb of the Unknown Solider, and I followed. A few words were said, some music was played, and the wreath was placed at the tomb. I don’t know what it was for, but it was interesting to watch nonetheless. Then, looking at my watch, I realized it was almost time for the changing of the guard, and since I had never seen it before, I stayed around to watch. As with other such ceremonies, it was full of elaborate steps and gun maneuvers. Now, I thought, time to go home. But life wasn’t through showering me with kisses yet. I was carried past the metro stop, down the street, and into the National Gardens. As it is only a week until Lent, the Greek version of Carnival is underway. The main festivities were supposed to take place Thursday night, but that is the night we were blanketed with snow. Today the National Gardens were filled with people celebrating. Children dressed in costumes ran through the park, throwing confetti, dragging balloons tied to their arms, and shooting each other with cap guns and silly string. Vendors sold cotton candy, popcorn, and other treats. Old men with streamers stuck to their shoes unknowingly dragged rainbows of color throughout the park. A statue of cupid poked out from some bushes. A fountain sprayed water into the air. And on the playground, princesses and cowboys occupied the swings. I wish there had been some way to capture it all in photos, but it wasn’t any one thing or place or person that made the day so wonderful. It was life, and life can’t be captured in still frames. I did my best to capture it in my memory though. And in the end, life rewarded me for taking note of its pleasures. I came home to hot water and a nice, long shower.