Ithaka Bound

Athina

Acropolis after the rain.

It’s no fun seeing that last post pop up as the first page on this blog, so I thought I’d add a post about my last day in Athens before leaving for a week in the midwest.

Temple of the Olympian Zeus.

On my return trip through Athens, I stayed in the same hotel in Omonia that I’d used my first few days in Greece back in May.  The price had gone down to only 30 Euro a night so I figured I couldn’t go wrong.   Unfortunately the neighborhood had really degraded in the months between my visits.

I arrived in Athens about 10 pm, after an 8 hr. ferry ride from Milos. The police–who had a very visible presence in Omonia back in May–were nowhere to be found in September.  The street leading to the hotel was lined with people huddled on stoops or doorways, in small groups of two or three,  preparing needles.  I lived in NYC for most of my twenties–back when Times Square was still seedy and dangerous at night–and my Sunday chore was to sweep crack vials off the stoop before heading out for church in the morning (this was before I became a blasphemer), so drug use doesn’t jar my sensibilities, but I’d never seen people advertise their illicit drug use so openly.  The middle portion of the street, between the curtain of junkies, was occupied by prostitutes and transvestites, chatting gaily and giving me the once-over until they saw that I was headed for the hotel.

I’ve found transvestites to be very entertaining during the few conversations I’ve had with them, and I feel pit rather than fear towards junkies,  but I still felt a bit wary due to all the gear I had with me.  I would have hated to have lost the thousands of photographs stored on my laptop.

A police car with blue lights flashing would make a slow drive down the street once a night.  The junkies and prostitutes couldn’t even be bothered to scatter, they just sort slinked into dark doorways, looked bored, and waited for the car to pass.

My last night in the hotel, someone tried to open my door several times in the middle of the night.  This has happened to me in countless other hotels so I try not to read too much into it–it’s usually someone who’s had too much to drink or forgotten their room number–but the hotel’s setting guaranteed a sleepless night.

I’d skip Omonia next trip.

I have to remember to do a post on Greek police…

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