Things I swore I’d never do again, yet always do again

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I swore never to show up in Athens again without a reservation.

I swore not to pack so much.

I swore not to eat a cheese pie every day.

I’ve heard that a lot of people will skip Athens entirely and head straight to the islands, especially if they’ve visited Athens before. Maybe it’s due in part to my bad memory, but I always find it difficult not to spend at least three days in Athens. The Acropolis still takes my breath away and the sense of living history makes me want to linger.

When I walk through the agora, it’s with Socrates; in Keramikos, Pericles is still giving his famous eulogy for fallen soldiers; and Aeropagus Hill holds the echo of Paul’s “Sermon to an Unknown God”.

This time around, I visited the good works of a Roman emperor named Hadrian, who loved Athens at least as much as he loved Rome. Hadrian’s legacy includes a beautiful library, a Tower of the Winds, a Roman market, and the completion of the largest temple in Greece — the Temple of the Olympian Zeus — that took 700 years to finish.

Athens just wouldn’t be the same without Hadrian.

© 2010 – 2011, Ithaka Bound. All rights reserved. Text and images copyright protected.

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Night in Athens

My first night in Athens, I walk the pedestrian promenade to stave off jet-lag and keep myself from falling asleep too early.

Children play ball on the marble walkway, as they have for millennia, their voices ringing out in laughter from the shrubbery of the southern slope of the Acropolis.

A tightrope walker manages the distance between two trees, ten feet apart.

Elegant couples make their way down the Grand Promenade to a concert at the Odeon of Herodes Atticus.

Flashes of light and a flurry of photographers follow the prime minister of Greece as he calmly makes his way through the ancient entrance gate. He has a kind face. It must be difficult to be a politician with such a kind face.

Designer blondes in tight white skirts and four inch heels stop for ice cream before the concert. Click, click, click… their heels on the marble steps.

An orthodox priest sings his haunting sermon down from the hills.

A man playing the lute greets me with compliments in Macedonian.

A young Roma woman sits near the entrance to the plaka, shaking a tambourine and singing an old slavic folk song. “Jovano, Jovanke…” My heart tightens, and suddenly I want to go to Yugoslavia, but then I remember that there is no Yugoslavia. I tell myself that I’ll visit it’s ghost soon, but not alone, to go alone would mean certain heartbreak.

That night it rains — big sheets of rain that turn the marble walkway into a slip n’ slide.

The next morning, I make my way to breakfast. Still half asleep and bleary eyed, I sit down to a rainbow over the Acropolis.

This is how Athens keeps me hooked.

© 2010 – 2011, Ithaka Bound. All rights reserved. Text and images copyright protected.

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Deconstructing a Lie

I was running around getting ready for my trip and working on a blog redesign, when I ran across something that really sparked my interest, but is completely off-topic for this blog. It’s this press interview of Lance Armstrong denying Floyd Landis’ accusations of doping.

I don’t have a horse in this race, and I’ve never really understood why cyclists aren’t allowed to use the same performance enhancers that anyone else could buy straight from their local health and nutrition store, but I was mesmerized by Armstrong’s interview because ven as he is denying the accusations, his body is betraying him in the most painful way.

Most of us are bad liars, which is a good thing. Good liars usually fall somewhere on the sociopathic personality disorder spectrum, and you should run, run quickly away from them. However, most of us are also bad at spotting liars, or at least we prefer to keep our illusion of the world intact. Being able to spot a liar is a useful skill to have, and one that can be honed with a little training and practice.

I would recommend Mr. Armstrong implement the following changes:

1. When defending yourself against assaults on your good reputation and character, DO NOT speak in a low key voice best reserved for a priest in a confessional. When innocent people are accused of crimes they didn’t commit, they become indignant. They rail against the injustices they’ve had to endure. You can hear the innocence in their voice. Work hard on this.

2. DO NOT keep your eyes downcast, your face down, your head darting this way and that. This does not inspire confidence. The innocent stand firm in their conviction and are known to lock eyes with all who question them. Some liars do this too, but you can spot their ruse.

3. DO NOT shrug your shoulders up and down as you speak (at 22 sec., 34 – 40 sec, and 1:08). This is in direct contradiction to what you’re saying. Stop it.

4. DO NOT clench your lips together to keep yourself from telling the truth (1:41, 1:48, 2:02). Dude!

5. DO NOT make counter-accusations to deflect blame — it’s juvenile and smacks of desperation. Focus on defending yourself, ‘the innocent.’

6. DO NOT say that you have nothing to hide and nothing to run from, and then tightly cross your arms in front of your chest like a man who has everything to hide (1:34). Most people think liars are best spotted by eye movement, but the body reveals more than the eyes.

7. In the name of all that is holy, DO NOT clasp your hands together in prayer and then put them through a motion reminiscent of Pontius Pilate symbolically washing away his sins. (2:03) Are you kidding me?

If you’d like to hone your innate skills in spotting a lie, some good books to read are Telling Lies by Paul Ekman; Never be Lied to Again by David J. Lieberman, and The Truth About Lying by Stan B. Walters.

© 2010 – 2012, Ithaka Bound. All rights reserved. Text and images copyright protected.

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I’ve been staying busy with classes at the Smithsonian and wandering around DC with my camera.

© 2010 – 2013, Ithaka Bound. All rights reserved. Text and images copyright protected.

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Washington D.C. Cherry Blossom Festival

For most of the year, Washington D.C. is either too hot or too cold with unbearable humidity, but nature gives us a reprieve in April and October. It’s cliche, but the two weeks of the Cherry Blossom Festival really are the best time to visit.

The District takes on a surreal hue of bright pinks and vibrant blues. You’re greeted with flowering canopies and streets are perfumed with falling petals. It’s like being in a dream you had as a child.

The festival commemorates the 3,000 cherry trees that the Japanese gifted to Washington in 1912.

Over the years, cuttings were taken from the original trees, so that the entire city and parts of Maryland are decorated with the beautiful blossoms.

This past week, temperatures soared to 90°F/32°C, so the blossoms came and went in a quick blaze of glory.

Most people who visit DC during the festival head straight for the Tidal Basin near the Jefferson and Lincoln Memorials because it holds the greatest concentration of trees. While this is true, those who venture into the neighborhoods of Northwest DC will be treated to a sight they won’t find at the Tidal Basin — giant weeping cherry trees:

President Obama has a Magnolia tree in his front yard:

If it gets really hot, you can duck into the National Cathedral for a cool break.

Me, I just wanted to practice using my new fisheye lens.

© 2010 – 2011, Ithaka Bound. All rights reserved. Text and images copyright protected.

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