Patras to Athens

 Lately in the morning I’ve been making the tea I brought with me on this trip. I’m bound for a tea drinking part of the world so there’s no need to ration anything anymore. Some snacking, some tidying, and I’m out. I did not budget my time well so I’m taking a taxi to the train station instead of the bus. The driver doesn’t understand English but he can read my Hellenic train ticket. Golden.

I get to the train station on time and the coach hadn’t started boarding yet. Welcome to Greece. Greece’s third largest city lacks a direct connection with its Capitol. To get to Athens I need to take a bus to Kiato and then a train the rest of the way. The fact that I need to take the bus from the Patras train station and there is a rail right of way all the way through makes it all the more infuriating. I can see the catenary from the highway.

After too long we get to Kiato and board the train. Everyone is standing on the platform staring at it like it’s just come from space. I press the button to open the doors and we board. You know a population doesn’t take the train often if an American is teaching them how to take the train. As we whizz along to Athens I think about how long it’s been since I was aboard. Not since I got to Brindisi, about three weeks ago. For a trip that has been so rail based, that feels like an eternity. 

After a quick hop on the Athens Metro, I arrive at my apartment in Psirri. This is an increasingly nauseatingly hip neighborhood full of flashy restaurants, vintage shops, and loudly chatting young people. I’ve been playing a game with places like these. I go to Google Maps and check to see where the local synagogues are. They are here. Here’s the game, it will make you laugh and then cry. In the Second World War, the axis powers forcibly deported their Jewish populations to be murdered in concentration and death camps. At the time, most Jews lived in small tightly-knit neighborhoods since they were not wanted much of anywhere else. These neighborhoods were gutted after the war ended when their residents left and never came back. Since all of Europe has more or less been economically in step since then, these neighborhoods have shared a similar history. They were derelict and abandoned after the war. Undesirables moved in, pimps, prostitutes, drug dealers, gamblers, criminals. People who could not live anywhere else. Over time that gave way to penniless creatives, artists and the like. As they made the neighborhood interesting. The artists are being priced out and expensive cafes are coming in. To name a few spots that fit this model; The Marais in Paris, The Jewish quarter in Corfu, Kazimierz in Krakow, and Psirri in Athens. Funny enough, a similar phenomenon is happening on Fairfax in Los Angeles but for different reasons. 

Luckily for me, this means I can find some spicy food. If not from the Sephardim, then from an Asian place. The one Jewish restaurant is closed for the sabbath today and I relished my lunch of Vietnamese food. Lemongrass, chilis, tofu. Great for the soul.

Now that I’m in a place with Jews I thought I should check in with the local synagogues to try and find a place to celebrate Hanukkah. European synagogues are considerably more locked down than their American counterparts and to get in, it helps to email in advance or have a local vouch for you. Predictably I had done none of these things. One of them asked for my passport and interviewed me for ten minutes. At the end of it all, they said no. After what happened in Melbourne, they were suspicious that someone who does not normally attend Synagogue would want to do so. Tacitly this means that they believe there is a nonzero chance that I may cause harm to their congregation. What a sad place to be in. The other guys gave me their meet time immediately after they saw I had a US passport.

Ruins to enjoy

Since I had a few hours I walked around the acropolis. A series of hills and narrow windows streets that took me through all of ancient Athens. The area around it feels almost like a grand public park. I am reminded of Chapultapec in Mexico City. Lots of trees and space for peace.

Needs no caption

I returned to the Psirri in time to get to the service in the event that I was going to have issues getting in. The security guard gave me the time that everything was going to end. I’ll pretend it wasn’t intentional. Regardless, I’m glad I got there early. After the service I was chatting with a few rabbinical students about the Jewish things I’ve seen on my travels. They were not happy to hear my thoughts on the gentrification of Jewish neighborhood and even less thrilled to hear me call the architecture of the great synagogue of Rome churchlike. Oh well, I don’t like their minchag anyway.

My next stop was all about scratching an old itch. I needed tacos and Rome was going to give them to me. I found one spot in the city that was selling tacos with soft shell corn tortillas. I felt like I was sitting down with an old friend. The owner is from Mexico and moved to Greece for love. Now his shop is a gathering place for anyone who needs a taco. Lots of Spanish being spoken here.

Sending that tonight I should be able to find an American to bother, I went to a place I was sure no Athenian would venture. A sports bar. Sure enough I was able to locate a couple from Florida who had just arrived and were looking for their next move. Naturally, we went to a tiki bar. I danced the night away with them and a group of conservatory students celebrating the end of the term. 

Athens is what Berlin thinks it is. This city is full of energy, creativity, and mischief. Where the Berliners feel the need to stand on a mountain and yell about how free they are (they are not) the Athenians are content to simply enjoy their lives. Good for them.

Typical Athenian Sillyness