turkish side

This morning we crossed the Line.

After touring the monuments and historic sites of the Greek side of the city yesterday I wanted to go across the divide and document the Turkish side of the Green Line, possibly seeing if they had another view on the events of the 1974 Turkish Invasion. If they were anything like the Greeks, they would have justifying opinions on why the invasion took place and why they had the right to the land.

The Turkish Republic in Cyprus is not recognized by any other country in the world (with the existence of this fact, why they are still allowed to occupy the island is beyond my understanding...) and therefore crossing into their "province"requires some political juggling. There are still passport checkpoints and you still get a stamp, but they are not allowed to stamp your official passport. Therefore they copy your passport number, have you fill out a form, and then stamp your form as if it was an authenticated document. This is seriously a 8.5"x11" piece of paper that they have ripped into quarters. That is our "passport" during our time on the Turkish side.

buffer zone entrance

It is strange spending two days on the Greek side of the city, crossing over a ditch, getting a fake passport and suddenly being thrown into a different culture. Different language, different way of life, different money (very annoying the money thing! What are we supposed to do with this change after we buy some water?! Argh. Guess it's going in my sketchbook...). Immediately one can feel the difference. Even though it is the continuation of the pedestrian street from the Greek side, the street feels smaller and more crowded. We went from a modern city street advertising fancy make up, shoes and a T.G.I. Friday's restaurant to a more market street, complete with kitschy souvenirs and crowded kiosks.

If one walks one block of the main pedestrian thoroughfare immediately she is thrown into dilapidated buildings, dirt streets and old cars lining the side of the road. On the Greek side there two or three streets running along the Green Line are in this condition, but once one passes a bit further into the city, the contemporary city takes shape again. Here this ramshackle state consumes the whole area. I am not sure if it is poverty, the lack of an official governmental funds, or just that this side was hit harder in the fighting, but it feels much more like a "war zone", one that is still active, even though there hasn't been a killing since the late 1990s.

view of line: turkish flags and greek sandbags

The Green Line is well documented in modern day charts and even the city maps they give tourists. It shows the thickness of the zone that only the UN soldiers can access. My intention for this research was in part to document how broad the Green Line becomes when you include the streets and other areas that have been deserted because of the Line. How thick does that zone become? While on the Turkish side it was very evident that most of this side of the city can be included in that "zone", the Greek side has a clear end to the physicality of the Line.

The Turkish people are very concerned with their image. I'm not sure if it is that they recognize that the rest of the world doesn't approve of their actions, or if they are embarrassed by the fact that the Green Line even exists, either way they do not like any photographs taken of anything other than historic monuments or mosques. I was caught a few times snapping a picture of the Line and was shouted at by regular civilians who did not appreciate my attention to the zone of contention.

When we first passed through the "passport checkpoint" we were told by a Turkish soldier to stay on the blue line that was painted on the roads, marking the way that tourists can go throughout the area. This "blue line" was more of a hidden brown line of street paint, covered in dirt and missing in most places; however, here again the citizens of the area insisted that you stay directly on it. We were told several times to get back on the line or had someone frantically come up and point emphatically at the line if we stepped off of it. Being 5 million degrees outside we were walking on the shaded side of the street (as any normal person would do) but had a store owner run out to us, cross the street and forcefully point down at the line that was right across the road. Literally 3 meters away. Until that point we couldn't decide if people were just trying to be helpful in identifying the blue line or if they were offended that we take a single step off of it. That pretty much blew away our optimistic outlook of their helpfulness...

commercial street

The Turkish north side of Nicosia does have a commercial street running through it. It is busy with cars and trucks going to the center part of the city (of course stopped by the pedestrian street and then the Green Line), but it again is only one street wide. If one ventures of a block over on either side, she is immediately back on a street of crumbling buildings, dusty roads and homes with out common amenities.  The commercial street is not new and would be considered shabby on most standards, but it does sport stores for cell phones, insurance and contemporary coffee shops. We stopped in for an iced tea (thankful to finally be off the stupid blue street line!) and ended up spending 10 euros ($15!!!) on drinks just because we couldn't use the cash they handed back to us. I hate spending extra money. Seriously. I might be the cheapest traveler ever. Grrrr!

We headed back over to the Greek side, thankful to see clean streets, signs in English and a generally optimistic outlook on reclaiming and renovating the city. I'm not sure how the transition would go if the Green Line were ever to be taken down. The two sides are in such a different state (seemingly such a different time period as well!) that the integration would be difficult to say the least. Unfortunately, I don't think anyone has to worry about that any time in the near future.

Tomorrow it's mapping and diagraming the Greek side and then off to Lebanon. I can't believe how quickly this part of the trip is going. We've definitely had to embrace the afternoon siesta, both because of the severe heat and also the store closings with lack of afternoon electricity and internet, but I still feel like I'm getting a lot done. It's nice to finally be able to see what I've been researching for so long. I love feeling productive!

three hour tour

A free breakfast is a great thing. Honestly. Every hotel should do it. It is a brilliant idea! I must say, this whole being in a hotel thing has it's perks. New towels everyday. Instant coffee in your room (yuuum....) and this great free breakfast. Of course, in order to spare my budget which perished days ago, I booked our room as a single instead of a double (over 100 euros difference!). Mom therefore is locked away upstairs while I caaaas-u-ally walk into the dining room, smiling, fill my plate, and slip back up the stairway to feed my illegal roommate who has been busy hiding from the maids. Still, breakfast is delicious.

We tiptoed out the stairwell and met a tour guide a few twisting streets away. Nicosia has several free tours throughout the week as well as numerous free museums, memorials and cultural centers. As I said yesterday, they are working hard to revitalize what they can of their split city and each building they renovate seems to be turned into another monument.

It was a three hour tour (insert Gilligan musical ditty here) and let me one again reiterate that it is hot here. Hot! We were promised a coffee break at some point but construction hindered the plan and it was three continuous hours in the sun for these two ladies! We were joined by two Russian couples who I am hoping were on their honeymoon (together?!) because if the one pair touch each other that much normally... good lord. I wanted to smack the gushy duo on behalf of myself and all other anti-PDA-ers or people in general who want to puke when a couple put their heads together whenever they stand still as if they were two swans posing for some trite postcard, but I was too hot to want to touch either of them. My hand might have literally gotten stuck to their skin. Seriously. We were all sticky to say the least.

The tour took us all over the Greek side of the city. Lydras street, which bustles with shoppers ambling in and out of contemporary stores and restaurants, to the ancient churches and mosques left over from the 3rd and 4th centuries and then, of course since it runs the length of the city, along the Green Line. It is surreal to see the Starbucks, a armed UN soldier and barbed wire surrounding dilapidated buildings all in the same view.

Life around here pretty similar to that of an American city. The old city contains the history and small shopping and cultural districts while the outer portion has the high-rises, industry and business centers. Most of the time you wouldn't even know the Green Line was there, which I'm not sure if that makes it better or worse.

The Line has been around for so long that everyone is relatively unbothered by it as they go about their daily routine; however, it is a very sore subject with all residences as one can imagine. Historic churches that once were a major players in the Greek Orthodox Church have now been turned into mosques, sporting Turkish flags and beckoning worshipers with the call to prayer, literally sitting only meters from the Greek side of the Line. The most lively part of the city was literally extinguished during the 1974 Turkish Invasion and while they have done a valiant job at recently reviving the area, there is still a large scar running through the city, abruptly stopping each perpendicular street and devaluing the surrounding real estate.

As an architecture students we study city planning as well as architectural history. We look at how to resuscitate failing parts of a city, discuss what makes a successful and pleasant urban street, and study the relationship between traffic patterns, pedestrian movement and the needs of commerce. However, in a situation like this, the only sustaining resolution is going to be politically based. The UN and other organizations can renovate buildings and preserve historic sites and will most likely be able to bring commercial business back to the city center, but until diplomatic compromises are made, no matter the monetary contributions, the research, the reconstruction, there will be a indignant blemish stopping the city from becoming what it could have been. It's a heavy thing to realize and and even harder thing to see.

We finished the tour and found a cafe for some much needed water. Electricity goes out here from 2-4 every day so the goal is to find someplace in the shade to survive the time without lights, AC or internet. We made it through the afternoon, took a shower and headed back out to find some great Cypriot food. We found a place that serves meze, an assortment of small plates, each featuring a traditional dish. We were brought about seven plates to start with. Then came the second round of another seven plates. Then the third. We were stuffed. Then the fourth!? Are you kidding? (We pushed most of the food from these plates underneath the others we had finished or gave it to the cats that were swarming under our table.) We were about to puke when they brought out the dessert: delicious doughnuts drenched in honey, followed by watermelon. We were lucky to find room to fit those in (I think the extra room can still be seen around our waist lines. Seems to be where we are storing most food these days...).

Back to the hotel. Back into the shower. Back into bed.

We are exploring the Turkish side of the line tomorrow. I wonder if I'll be able to be diplomatic in my diagraming. 

turmoil at last

Finally. Cyprus. Goodbye mellow moped meandering and succulent supper savoring. Hello to a contemporary city with political turmoil remnants from the 1960s.

We arrived in Nicosia, the capital and only inland city of Cyprus. Since the island was at one point owned by the British, all the cars drive on the wrong side of the road and traces of an English accent are common. We are actually staying in a hotel for the rest of the trip since the airbnb options were looking a little sketchy... let's just say their locations would not be on my family's "safe" list. We are staying in the old part of the city, walled in by the Venetians back when they owned the place. The Green Line cuts not only through the fortified part of the city, but through the entire island itself!

Here is a short history of the Green Line (also included in graphic form below):

• late 1800s: Brits gain control of the island
• 1955: Cypriots start wanting their own country
• 1960: Cyprus becomes a nation
• 1963: Green Line established when Turkey started wanting Cyprus to be divided into two countries
• 1974: Turkish Invasion (they captured 30% of the island) and UN controls the buffer zone

The Green Line is still up today despite efforts of the UN to get each side to come to a compromise. This Line is a physical division with a "no man's land" in between, accessible only by UN soldiers. Sometimes it is as little as 30 meters wide, at other points it is over 14 km. The barriers range from barbed wire and concrete blocks to sandbags covered in green material and hidden by plantation (literally making it a green line...groan. Sorry, couldn't resist).

The Green Line runs through the very heart of Nicosia, which used to be the center of commerce, each street lined with shops and studios and customers occupying the area throughout the day. With the fighting in 1974 and the physical presence of the boundary, the streets running along side of the division are now destroyed, dilapidated and void of any pedestrians. For almost thirty years no one was allowed to cross the Line; now there are seven checkpoints at which citizens or visitors can access the other side, each station run by UN soldiers. Today we explored the Greek side. Tomorrow it's the Turks' turn to host us. Lucky them.

It is crazy the tension one can feel when talking to the residents. The line has been up since the 60s so they are accustomed to its presence, but each local we spoke to felt that it is an invasion of their land (which, of course, it is) and are bitter that no resolution has been reached. Greek flags are on top of each building on this side, sand bags are painted in blue and white, and graffiti calling for the removal of Turkish inhabitants from the northern part of the city are everywhere. When looking out from our second story room, it is very common to see a Greek flag with a Turkish one flying in opposition across the Line, only meters away.

Thanks to my lovely Mother, we stumbled upon a rickety trailer of sorts that housed a display of the Nicosia Master Plan Project just near the Line. The city is tirelessly trying to renovate the historic buildings within the wall and start to restore some of the houses close to the Line in a valiant effort to bring people back to the area. It is, for the most part, unsuccessful. The buildings they have renovated are lovely and are definitely a point of pride for the city; however, in terms of bringing life back to the center of the city, it has not had an overwhelming effect. To be fair, it is hard to convince a restaurant to set up shop next to a ditch lined with barbed wire, spray paint and large signs warning not to get to close (and no photographs! That means you, you visiting architecture student who constantly disregards the obvious signs!)

We had a glass of wine on the roof of one of the national museums and were shocked to see the outline of a Turkish flag flashing on the northern mountains just outside the city, just flashing away as if it was sweetly waving at the Greek Cypriots, knowing it was safe from their desired reproach.

Dinner was a quick stop at an Armenian deli-stand of sorts (Mom figured out for the first time that Armenian food comes from Armenia! Yes, Mother. That is a country...). Sadly it was not quite at the same caliber as our last meal in Athens (I know, I know. We've been spoiled), but it was only 4 euros so can't complain too much. We walked back to our hotel room, past the Starbucks, Cinnabon and McDonalds, past the fancy shops sitting only blocks away from barricades guarded by armed troops, past the crowd of men sitting outside shouting at the local football match, placing bets at one of the many, many gambling bars, and past the disputing Turkish and Greek flags, standing in protest of the other's presence, waving intrepidly and refusing to back down.

I know it's no spectacular beach with views of never ending shades of blue, nor is it the cuisine mecca of the Middle Eastern world, but I'm excited to be here. Real research at last!

getting high

Today was the last day in Greece. Last day of the half of the trip that in no way is "war torn". So now the e-mails berating my oh-so-hard trip can stop. From now on it will be different. But that just means that we had to savor today all the more.

As previously mentioned, the first day in Athens resulted in my purchase of a bus tour to Delphi (yes, I know. I thought it was cheesy while I was doing it as well...), a trip of about a three hour drive, an afternoon spent at the historic site and the drive home. Mom and I enjoyed our dining experience so much last night (and the maitre-de enjoyed us so much!) that we accepted his invite for reservations on Kuzina's rooftop terrace for a second dinner.  So, if this tour was a bust, at least we had dinner to save the day!

Athenian treasury

We left the apartment by 7.15 (what a feat!) to head into the city and catch the KeyTour bus to which we were assigned. Of course finding the office for once was simple and we arrived 45 minutes early. Oh well, at least we were able to sit in AC!

We loaded onto the bus, instantly identifying who was the "Annoying American", "Drunk Aussie", "Question Lady" and "Spoiled Spanish Child". We fought back sleep as we drove through the Greek countryside listening to our tour guide deftly exhibit her vast knowledge of Greek mythology and national history. It was very impressive.

temple of Apollo

We drove up, up and up some more. From the agricultural fields into the mountains that advertise the skiing season and winter resorts. Our ears started popping before we were even halfway up and yet we continued driving up those rocky mountains.

We finally reached Delphi, a religious site thousands of years old, originally devoted to Mother Earth and then later to Apollo, god of light and the sun, truth and prophecy, medicine, music, poetry and the arts. Needless to say, he was pretty hard core. Delphi was home of the main oracle in Greek mythology who would speak directly to Apollo, relay his messages to her priests who in turn would tell any pilgrim who made the long journey up the mountain in search for answers to his questions. (It was discovered in the 80s that the Oracle was actually sitting on part of the mountain where hallucinogenic gas seeped through so I'm sure her babbling songs were a joy to hear and most informative.)

The site contained the Temple of Apollo, treasuries for each Greek city-state housing offerings of thanks for the Oracle when she correctly predicted military exploits, a theater, stadium, an altar, Roman agora and a multitude of commemorative statues. Most of these things were preserved and held in the museum next to the site. It was all pretty astounding. The fact that it was all perched on a mountain so steep that most visitors (probably all the Americans!) didn't even hike to the top just made it that much more sensational.

valley of 3 million olive trees... no joke

The bus ride home was lively thanks to the Jersey woman and her husband who started yelling at the tour guide for not delivering the lunch experience they were expecting. Mom and I sunk down in our seats, ready to denounce our American citizenship if it meant being associated with Bitchy up there and nodding in agreement with our fellow passengers as they all traded the "Are you kidding me?!" incredulously widened eyes. I wanted to smack her as a sign of protest for all polite tourists, but I was pretty sure she could kill me.


(Came to find out later that she was friends with the Dean's son. Hmmm, that seems to fit...)

The ride held another shocking event as we discovered the mother and son sitting directly in front of us were not only from the East Coast, not only from Virginia, not only from Fauquier County, but from Hume, a stone's throw away from my parents house. So there we are, discussing the menu of the Orlean Market and the new location of Warrenton gas stations as we drive through millions of olive trees perched on the mountain side of ancient Greece for gracious sakes. Oh, small, small world.

mom racing in the stadium. i think she won

We disembarked the bus (quickly so Jersey wouldn't follow us and hope for a nice American dinner together) and headed back Kuzina where, as promised, we had a roof top table waiting. Now this is no ordinary roof top terrace. This has the most perfect view of the Acropolis and as we ate another perfect meal, we got to watch as the temples were lit up in all their glory. Pictures don't do it justice. It was truly amazing.

octopus

Dinner was finger-licking as expected. Tonight's menu featured grilled and cured octopus with fennel shavings drizzled with amazing-ness followed by bread-- oh! the bread!-- with olive oil-- oh! the olive oil!-- and olives. All of this was followed by more risotto than four people could eat on top of which sat a lobster that didn't even need melted butter lest one not be able to taste every minuscule flavor screaming out "pure enjoyment! pure pleasure!".

risotto and lobster

In full fatty fashion, we ordered the same delectable dessert from last night: walnut wafers with custard and apricots. A full bottle of wine completed our slip into gluttony. Holding the camera up to take pictures of the illuminated Pantheon seemed suddenly strenuous thanks to our gorged stomachs.


We came home to no electricity in the apartment (oh the horror of no AC!) and stumbled around in the dark attempting to pack our bags and find computer cords. Luckily the power came back on as we slipped into bed and the air conditioning was revived.

Four hours sleep and then it's off to the airport where the adventures in war torn cities will truly commence. Great last day: high mountains (with high Oracles), high roof top dinners and high hopes for research in Cyprus. Bring on the post-traumatic!

acropolis at night

pure pleasures

The Akropoli.

Thousands and thousands of years old. Saturated with history literally oozing out of every crack in every stone. As much as I hate doing "touristy" things, you can't miss this one. If you're in Athens, this is what you're doing. No questions asked.

We were told to get to the Acropolis around 8.30 am because it gets hot hot hot (which, I feel like is the story of this trip), but according to our usual morning routine, 8.30 was going to come way too quickly. Soooo, we showed up around 10, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed ready to hike to the top and see the city. We find the stairs to the Parthenon (no thanks to the terrible signage that seems to be the theme of Greek life!) and start the slippery trek up. Each step you take is amazing. The view is breathtaking until you realize that if you go up higher even just two more feet it gets even better. Good thing I remembered the camera today!

The Parthenon is surrounded by the ruins of other buildings in what used to be quite the happening place in ancient times. There were at least a dozen other structures surrounding the area, other temples, theaters, ceremonial gates. The whole thing was pretty staggering. Each column was engraved and sculpted with such detail that no postcard or image in a book could ever reveal. How did they do that with the tools they had then?!

At the bottom of the great hill is a new museum designed by the contemporary architect Bernard Tschumi. He had the laborious task of placing a modern museum to house and pay homage to all the artifacts from the Acropolis directly on top of ruins from ancient times that they were currently excavating! I must say, he did an amazing job.

The columns of the new structure are carefully placed within the ruins and a very graceful and open building rises above. The ground floor platform is open in places so that visitors can look down into the excavation site and watch its progress. Glass floors are throughout the entire building so that you can always see this archeological work. Even the second and third floors have glass so that you conceptually are able to see all the way to the dig (practically all it really allows you to see is up other visitor's dresses, but hey... it was a great idea). The museum brilliantly displays the astounding work of the ancient Greeks and seeing the old being housed by the new so elegantly is phenomenal in itself.

After cooling off in the museum we ventured back out into the sun to find the Roman Agora and other temples at the bottom of the rising hill. The whole site is very humbling. I think I'm still trying to wrap my mind around the idea of walking through the same structures as the Apostle Paul or priestesses of Athena.

As the sun went down we went wandering again, this time in search of food... shocking. We remembered that Jon, our favorite person from Rhodes, had suggested a restaurant which we sought with a vengeance. Success! After we sat, the most amazing dinner ensued. Basically, despite my ability to ramble with no end in sight, I do not possess adequate words to describe this meal. Therefore, I will simply regurgitate the descriptions found from the menu since it is taking all my concentration to not salivate on my computer as I am reminiscing the harmony of ingredients and flavors.

First there were dumplings filled with feta cheese mousse, olives, spearmint and topped with pomegranate sauce. Oh, and we can't forget the wine. Oh, the wine...

Then there was roasted sea bass (the whole fish! head and all) topped with sauce and gently placed on zucchini and wild greens. All this was followed by "Millefeuille of fiorentines, catalana cream and caramelized apricots" (that's basically heavenly almond sugar wafers layered with sublimely smooth custard and succulent apricots that despite being caramelized, managed to keep a tartness that was exquisite as it cut the sweetness of the custard).

Architect?! Why didn't I choose Chef?!

Stuffed and happy we walked past the Acropolis lit up in all its glory by soft spotlighting from below. We caught the tram (after just getting a bit lost-- we're getting better!) and found the apartment.


Ancient Architecture.

Modern Architecture.

Delicious Food.

Are you kidding me? Is this education or what?

oh, those greeks...

Ok, I know this is three days late. Sheesh.


So I'll try to catch up: We arived stumbling into Athens. 6.30 am. All night ferry ride. Boat, train, bus, feet. Lugging suitcases all the way. Whew.


Once we got to the apartment we decided to take a two hour nap since ferry sleep is no where near the real thing. Two hours turned into five and we woke up in shock at 1 pm! Not to fear, we are indomitable travel experts and did not let the time set-back ruin our plans. We found the tram after much sweaty wandering through our neighborhood, hopped on only to realize that in our over-sleeping stupor, I had left the camera back in the room. Argh! Go back or not? Go back or not? Nope. Too hot. Unfortunately only iphone pictures for today...

our Greek angel

If I haven't mentioned it before, all of the taxis are on strike here. Yup. ALL. It has made city-navigating very interesting to say the least... We finally did find the tram, but as we were heading downtown it stops. Shouting in the tram abruptly erupts and Greeks with grocery bags, Greeks with walking canes, Greeks with bikes all join in and head out the door. Are we in the Ryainair terminal all over again?! It was like a European flash mob! A sporadic dance complete with a cacophony of foreign language and flying vegetables. 

As we shuffled (rather, were shuffled out by running Greeks) from the tram car an older man spoke to us in English saying that the Taxi drivers had somehow gotten to the tram cars and that particular one was no longer running. We'd have to walk. Heat. Sweat. Brilliant. Our "Greek Angel" turned out to be quite the gregarious little tour guide. He said we should follow him to the downtown area and he'd show us where to go after that. Our walk was long and concluded only when he had finished lecturing on subjects to include, but not limited to:

1. Greek politics

2. His Mercedes (complete story with banged up key around his neck) 

3. Al Capone

4. What the F.B.I. stands for (Federal Bureau of Interrogation, if you didn't know, but he does yes, yes, yes.)

5. Jacki Kennedy and her sexual escapades with the Greeks

first modern Olympic stadium

Hmmm. 

It was great conversation. The only problem was that it was hot, we didn't know where we were and every time he got good and goin', he would stop to talk. Dead stop. Dead stop with hands waving and wouldn't walk again until we too had stopped, taken a few steps back towards him to make sure we heard every. little. word. and then we would keep plodding slowly forward. We took the "long way" downtown I guess...

We made it to the city center and wandered into a tourism office (looking for a bookstore since neither of us had a map of Athens...) and got advice on what to do for the day. We have three (well, now only 2.5) days in Athens and wanted to make sure we saw everything. Armed with maps, suggestions and and an expensive bus tour ticket to Delphi for Monday (it'll be great!), we ventured into the city to find the National Gardens.  

National Gardens didn't hold a candle to those around DC or the US in general (man, am I starting to get homesick or something?!) but we did manage to walk up at the exact moment that the changing of the guards started. Now, it is my opinion that any such ritual is not only some evil scheme plotted by those in authority to mortify their underlings and keep them in line, but also created to somehow establish themselves as key players on the "countries of ultimate silliness" list. These guys take the cake. No question. I've seen the British and the Danish do it, but the Greeks, man, they out-shine them all. 

Already decked out in white tights and long sleeved tunics (that came down just long enough to barely cover their rears), these soldiers sported clogs topped with pom-poms the size of grapefruits, carried guns 4' tall guns and donned tidy little hats with 3' long black tassels to complete the ensemble. Each started out in his little house on either side of the palace and at 10 'til the hour began a procession so elaborate that I swear I had to cover my mouth to cover my dumbfounded smiles. One foot out. Clunk goes the clog. One leg raised out in pure yoga position. Clunk goes the gun. Leg down. Clunk the clog. Hand up. Clunk the gun. 

really?

This went on until the soldiers were standing two feet from each other. Suddenly (actually this whole thing was literally in slow motion--another added bonus to the ceremony-- so the word "suddenly" does not really apply...) the two soldiers lifted their foot in the yoga like position, touched toes and kept them that way for at least ten seconds (doesn't sound long but when you are watching in pure astonishment and utter unbelief it seems like an eternity). Then without warning, put their feet down and clunked, clank, clunked back to their positions exactly on the hour. They were about 20' from each other at the start of this frolic so you can imagine how slow they were going to make this little dance last a full ten minutes. It was intense. 

Zeus' temple

Went over to Zeus' Chapel located near the Acropolis. It is crazy to be seeing things that were constructed 500 years ago BC. Modern Architects have a lot to live up to. Groan.

We decided to save the Acropolis for tomorrow since it was evening (thanks to our lovely "little" nap). Instead, found a great little cafe (chosen mainly for the fact that it had AC) and grabbed some wine for me (oooobivously...!) and some sort of mocha-coffee-ice cream construction for Mom. (To be fair, she thought she was just ordering an iced latte.) Inspired by the architecture all around, we sat and planned the most perfect barn/studio thoughtfully sited in a lovely pasture in The Plains, Virginia (can I bill for that...? Kidding!).

It was an early night for us travel-gals but a great introduction to Athens. 

So far so good (well, brilliant actually if you're counting the points for stunning soldier choreography!).