The Greek Way

In ancient Greek myth, the Gods always punish the human crime of hubris with all manner of grisly fates: getting turned into a spider or a weeping stone; suffering for eternity with an unquenchable thirst; being chained to a rock while an eagle devours your liver; and, although there's no specific mention of heart disease in any myth I'm aware of, it's surely possible that Nemesis also clogged the arteries of arrogant Athenians with divinely vengeful cholesterol and plaque. Imagine, if you will, a shepherd from about three thousand years ago, perhaps someone not entirely unlike me, wandering happily on the sun-kissed plains of Attica telling everyone that he feels as fit as Zeus, only to be suddenly struck down with stabbing chest pains and rushed to the nearest Asclepieion. Such were my thoughts, anyway, as we boarded the British Airways flight to Eleftherios Venizelos Airport.
We had booked the Greek trip many months before I had felt even the slightest twinge of a chest pain, back when the idea of undergoing heart bypass surgery seemed as unlikely as me diving into a large vat of Tzatziki sauce; and so at certain low moments during my hospitalization I doubted whether I'd actually ever make it there; not because I thought I might die or anything quite as grim as that, but because I knew that the extensive physical recovery required might put island hopping with luggage well beyond my puny, convalescent reach. And to be sure, there was a period when I would have encountered almost insurmountable difficulty crawling to the Greek restaurant at the end of the road, never mind jetting off to Athens and points Aegean. Fortunately, the human body brushes aside its traumas much faster than you might expect, and I was able to pack my guidebooks and collect my boarding pass after all.
Having said that, the conclusions of Socratic method, Aristotelian logic, and even a brief appeal to simple common sense would all advocate against climbing the Acropolis - 500 feet above sea level - in my delicate condition; yet I staggered up to the top anyway. Call it Byronic whim (Robert Byron), but making an ascent had seemed like the thing to do when staring at the Parthenon from our hotel window. And also I feel a great affinity for this ancient temple, since its creaky columns are currently held together with iron scaffolding, much like my breastbone is held together with tiny sternal wires.

After all, if the Parthenon is still standing after three thousand years, despite the attentions of Turks, tourists and Lord Elgin, then I suppose I can survive to a venerable age also, providing the Greek gods and their Furies don't read this blog, obviously.

Comments

[Laurent]

My father's report of our vacation in Greece in 1984 at his work was that it mainly consisted of climbing an improbable amount of steps, only to have a look at some pile of ancient rubble. He was almost sixty by that time, though.

But, like his mother, he never let his real experiences spoil a good story.

Do they still serve that really weird tasting Greek coffee? (last time I was there was in 1990)

[american fez]

Yes, they do still serve Greek coffee; but you have to ask for it by name, otherwise you'll be brought a more conventional brew.

[Tatyana]

How can Greeks have clogged arteries and chest pains if they diet on divine greenish olive oil, occasional lamb, goat cheese and honey? The Greek Greeks, anyway - I don't mean the American variety.

Glad to see you safely back, and even having managed a climb of Acropolis. Just tell us - was it worth the agony?

[Mia Wolff]

I went to Greece with a bad knee, a cane, and the company of my then teen-aged son. I almost didn't go, but it became one of the best trips I've ever taken. Every step was worth it.....I stood in Agamemnon's ruined palace in a foam of spring flowers and thought that maybe everything else Homer wrote of was true.

[Giric]

Welcome home Fez, great to sleep once more in your own bed isn't it?! Nice pic of the Parthenon by the way. As to that photo on the right I thought at first it was a cave with a stalagmite in it, but it was your x-ray instead. I can see by your wiring that surgeons are not master tailors are they?! That stitching is some of the worse I've ever seen. It looks like Baby's first attempt at lacing his shoe.

[Dennis]

you too can be a magnificent ruin.

[Irene]

Those wires look a bit random. But perhaps it is art.

[american fez]

Yes, that's what I thought too

[Louboutin Outlet]

glib and somewhat sloshy - a lot of money was tossed about along with some very wet people. "We did $140,000 last year. There was no way I could say no," said Gatti. The social types turned out en masse to cheer on their friends Fitflops and to put a little hard cash on the line.