Dazed + Confused in Athens, Greece

the Acroplis of ancient Greece- viewed from below

Arriving well after midnight, rest is my next featured activity, and what would exponentially increase its quality would be the sleeping pill of heavy traffic whose continuous hum would create a comparative "white noise;" instead, at 2 AM, the Kamikaze motorcycles take it upon themselves to fill the relative peace by revving their bikes past the "total asshole" level on up to "nuclear explosion."

Time and time again I get jolted out of bed with a shot of adrenaline. Taking a pillow with me, I attempt to rest on the hard wood floor of the living room and behind the couch, 15 feet further away from the window, but like children of the 1960's practicing the "duck and cover" technique to protect themselves from an exploding nuclear bomb ... the benefits are negligible.

Thankfully, the sleeping pill arrives at 7 AM, allowing me to drift off into relative slumber.

the original Olympic Stadium

Greek Parliament from the outside

Awaking at noon, I shake off the Greek fog I'm in, and start walking down one of Athen's main roads. I cover several miles- there's little of note here, save the ruins of ancient Greece and the Parliament Building, beautiful and interesting structures which stand out amidst the grimy and dilapidated Greek infrastructure.

interior courtyard of the Greek Parliament building- quite lovely

Exiting the acropolis and her sister museum, I get a little lost on the twisted streets of Athens. A rough looking man sees me glancing down at Google Maps, and engages me in conversation. He seems like he's trying to help, until he aggressively sweeps me inside his bar. Two women are seated separately, nodding at me as I enter.
My thirst is overtaken by suspicion, I'm fairly certain Cokes will be served at $20 apiece as the girls flirt with me in an attempt to encourage me to stay longer and order more.

I politely announce I must be going. *BAM* Any pretense of kindness disappears in a puff of smoke; the bar owner glares at me as I exit.

a view from the Acropolis over Athens, Greece

My friend Nick, who I've come to meet, grew up in the city. He despises returning, but must do so periodically to take care of family business. 

He asks for silence as he prepares to drive so he can, "prepare for war."
Commuting in Athens is not only dangerous but incredibly confusing. The streets are designed so poorly that red-lights are often not visible to cars waiting nearest the intersection, as they are placed to the side of lead car rather than in front, leaving drivers reliant on honks from the autos lined up behind to let them know when the light has changed to green. 

Even with a GPS system on the dashboard we take a wrong turn, forcing us to backtrack a couple of miles of city streets before we are able to get back to the original intersection. The city is full of one way, curvy streets whose names can change at any moment. 

Nick describes what a paradise Athens once was- clean air, everything was beach-front property, etc. Today the city is comprised of dense housing built to the lowest common denominator, a crony and utterly corrupt government which collects no taxes, in part because those who pay are deemed idiots who are merely lining the pockets of the fat cats.
"This is not a 1st world country," explains Nick, "This is 2.5 ..."

Athenians think nothing of inconveniencing others by double parking, or pulling up onto the sidewalk while they run errands, so when we see an open spot on the waterfront our pupils dilate. 

It seems too good to be true. 

"Can we park here?" I ask the restaurant worker.

"Of course," he replies. 

I wait a beat. Two beats. 

"But only if you're dining in this restaurant." 

For Nick it's par for the course. For me, I marvel at the usurping of public parking spots without any signage for the use of an individual business. 

We go and park up the hill on a narrow street.  Nick turns in the mirror on the side of his car. I look around and notice all the parked automobiles have done the same. 

"The streets are way too narrow," explains Nick, "Plus if any Greek were to knock your mirror off, there's a zero percent chance of them leaving a note." 

all side mirrors tucked in

I experience myself being stared at on several occasions, by men ... who don't look remotely gay. I feel very uncomfortable as their stares only intensify when I make eye contact with them. I shake it off. Nick tells me its par for the course.
I find Athens a confusing mess. 

After spending two sleepless nights in the capital, ticked about the lack of transparency regarding the nuclear explosions outside, I check out of my AirBnb a night early, and leave the following note for my host: Since inventing democracy, Greece has seriously been resting on its laurels.

Santorini, Greece- 24 Hours Max of Life Along the Caldera

Some 3,600 years a volcanic eruption sent a good chunk of land falling into the Aegean Sea. What is left are a couple small uninhabited islands and the island of Santorini, which today boasts a population of 16,000 people, who are there largely to serve the tourists who have been duped into thinking that it's worth the journey to see the Caldera, which is, granted a beautiful, sheer stretch of cliff where "The lost city of Atlantis," (more marketing) dropped off into the sea forever. 

clear waters close to the Santorini Coast

While the Caldera is an impressive stretch of coast line, the rest of the island has little to offer besides  high prices. Having travelled to enough places to judge, I would recommending skipping Santorini altogether, or, if you really have been hypnotized by the marketing and must go, limit your time to no more than 24 hours. Go, see the Caldera for a few hours, drink some locally created wine, and take off for greener pastures (literally, the island is arid) 

Nevertheless, below you'll find some nice photos of the Caldera I took in the short time I was there.

a view of the Caldera from Thira

the Caldera from the top of Thira

Thira- built into the side of the Caldera

nice water of the Aegean Sea

probably my favorite shot

Thira

The Opera House + the Beautiful Architecture of Paris

Paris is without a doubt one of the world's most beautiful cities, with it's gorgeous architecture extending outside the immediate center of the city, due to strict building codes which made it illegal to build to a lower common denominator.

What might have made builders recoil in horror provides eye candy today for the city's residents as well as tourists flocking to the city.

the streets of Paris

And of course the royal structure's from yesteryear, those society invested all their time in resources in creating, stand tall and proud. The Opera House, stunning visually on the outside, is ten times more more magnificent when you enter within.

outside the Opera House

the ceiling of the Opera House

vaulted ceilings of the Opera House hallways

Opera- beautiful and opulent

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Paris along the Seine river

this goes on for kilometers

gorgeous

Video: The Gorgeous Buildings of Paris France

Video: the architecture streets of Paris

The Cathedral of Montmarte

balconies and windowsills adorned with flowers

Hope you make it a point to visit Paris. Eye candy for the senses and soul!

If you have 24 hours in Paris, here are a friend's recommendations as what to see. 

A Look, Taste + Feel of Romantic Paris, France

The Eiffel Tower

Paris- the world's romance capital and one of its most beautiful cities. Walk anywhere near the expansive city center and take a deep breath of appreciation for the gorgeous architecture and artistic sculptures rising throughout the area.
For most Parisians it's merely the daily background, but being from a graffiti intensive, desecrated city; I find the public art inspiring.

Residents and tourists alike pack the banks of the Seine River on this summer day, basking in the sun, enjoying the cook-outs, and live music from performers hoping to make a few Euros practicing their craft.

decorated bridge across the Seine

Any area of Paris is accessible from the center within twenty-five minutes via a highly efficient metro line. Finding your desired location after exiting the station is a touch trickier as the streets zig and zag, change names, and do their best to cloak their identities- remnants of the city's ancient past. 
But even getting lost in this beautiful town isn't so bad, just stop in at any of the cafes which line the streets, sit down at a table outside and sip on a coffee or a glass of wine- served ubiquitously throughout the city. 

one of my favorite painting ever at the Orsay Museum- Van Gogh 

Just sit back, relax, and watch the world go by.  If doing so were an Olympic event, Parisians would win the gold. 

Two of the planet’s greatest museums, the Orsay and the Louvre house a gravity defying percentage of humanity’s masterpieces, and are situated a mere mile apart. Go enjoy whenever you like, just make sure to buy tickets online to avoid the Louvre's snake-like two hour line.

the entrance to the Louvre courtyard- Paris

Tourists of past years have complained of Parisians being "snooty," pretending not to understand pleas for help in English, as only the "superior" language of French should be spoken within the confines of the city. While I didn't experience this (at least I don't think so) evidence of such a psychology remains in the Louvre, as the details of most any individual works of art are described only in French, making for a less enjoyable experience. 

Cathedral of Notre Dame

Visit the Hunchback at the Cathedral of Notre Dame, its medieval towers and gargoyles flying high into the Paris skyline. They've been watching, guarding the city for centuries, and no one is sure when, in classic Parisian fashion they'll organize a strike, get up, and finally walk off the job. 

Gargoyle looks over Paris from Cathedral of Notre Dame

Nearby shysters ply their trade, attempting to lure tourists into a con-game, some variation of Three Card Monte. Once they dig into a sucker they try hold on as long as they can, extracting as much money as possible in the process. Euros only flow one way as even if you guess right, you'll never get paid. 

Want a little night-life? Head out to the Montmarte district where the famed Moulin Rouge and other cabarets line the streets. It feels a touch rougher compared to the Champs de Elysee, a little more gritty, a little more flavorful.

Moulin Rouge

the courtyard of a local museum of Monmarte - only in Paris

playing ping pong at Parisan park

For all it's style and grace, Paris shows scars of recent trauma; soldiers with sub-machine guns keeping watch on the city streets and in public squares, a sight unimaginable when I visited as a child; a sad reminder of recent terrorist activity.

But through its storied history, this great city has experienced far worse, ranging from Revolution, the guillotine, Hitler, and mimes; and once again, via humanity's impulse to create something better, to grow, to live a peaceful and fruitful life, these wounds will eventually heal. The human spirit will overcome and persevere.

Paris remains a city full of culture, beauty, intellect, and magnificent architecture and one which should be near the top of any travelers list to visit. 

Paris is a beautiful city!

Museum Fitness + The Dangers of the Louvre

I lack the endurance necessary to run around museums. I'm simply not fit enough.
True, I am able to run for miles without tiring, but this doesn't help me one iota inside the cavernous art exhibits of Europe. I lack what medical doctors refer to as "Museum Fitness."


So now I'm by the pyramid entrance of The Louvre, gazing from the outside at the planet's most prestigious museum; for art lovers a visit to which is comparable to the the biggest sporting event on the planet, a game they refer to as the "Whatchamacallit" as their memory is solely devoted to the works of Leonardo, Donatello, and Raphael; names which only serve to remind me to pick-up a pizza on the way home.

the pyramid entrance to the Louvre + her courtyard

Standing outside these hallowed halls, I feel like a football player on Superbowl Sunday- it's the biggest game of my life, but for some reason the adrenaline just isn't flowing.
Immediately I start altering my physiology, jumping up and down, doing breathing exercises, envisioning myself paying rapt attention to each piece of historic and stunning art, fully absorbing their meaning and significance.  If I thought I could pass the mandatory doping tests of the AAL (Art Appreciation League) I'd pop some Adderall.

I sprint out of the Louvre locker room out of my mind, totally psyched, pounding my chest as I burst through a red, white, and blue banner held up by security, .
And for the first 20 minutes, I really am absorbing everything, rapt attention, taking in the centuries of cultural heritage, these masterpieces which have survived to enlighten us what life was like back in the Middle Ages- ("harsh.")

magnificent art- the Mona Lisa. A portal to another world

But after a half-hour my attention starts to wane. I need a pep talk from Coach Da Vinci so I go and gaze at one of the greatest paintings ever produced- The Mona Lisa. Her lightly smiling countenance drawing me in as it does millions of art lovers every year. It truly is a magnificent piece and I understand why estimates of its net-worth are 1.5 billion; it also makes me wish i had the artistic talent to counterfeit such masterpieces.
"Mona Lisa, for sale cheap. Check it out. I got Rembrandts too if that's what you want. 99.9% off. I'm practically giving them away- a million dollars a piece."

I head back out into the famed corridors of the Louvre with a bit more steam, and gazing up at photo after photos of Jesus and his Mom (Did he really just call them photos??)  I find my life-force abating.
I start to feel dizzy, almost drunk- what any medical doctor will tell you is a sure sign of "Gallery Syndrome."
Bravely, I discount the bodily signs, waving them off as delusions of the mind. A guard with obviously no medical training sees me swaying and curtly questions if I'm drunk.
"It's just a sprain," I retort.

I see the green-lit human figure- the exit sign, doing my best to ignore the siren song echoing in the hallways. Looking around, everyone else appears to have had their ears plugged with wax.
I take several more steps forward, nodding my head approvingly at this stunning artwork which has withstood the test of time, an attempt to fake myself out into absorbing more of it.
But I'm at my physical limit and now the symptoms can no longer be ignored. I start retching, the first signs of serious onset of the disease. According to medical textbooks I have but twenty minutes before I'm dead.
I race towards the exit, following the pointed direction of the green figures, my only allies in escaping this gorgeous, treasure laden dungeon. A poisoned dart misses me by inches. I speed up my pace, guards yell, "No running!"

My head is spinning as I sprint past the Egyptian exhibit which curiously, according to the Paris Guardian, has recent new additions to its collections- two day old mummified bodies of art patrons who succumbed to Gallery Syndrome.
I slide out of the Louvre and into the fresh air. It takes 15 minutes before I fully regain my senses, as on site medical staff treats other hapless visitors (mostly Americans.)
I'm chided by a nurse for my lack of Museum Fitness. "You really have to develop a stronger regimen," she suggests, handing me stack of art history books.
Borrowing from the playbook of American medicine and college students alike, I ask for a prescription to Adderall instead.
I rise and exit out of the Louvre courtyard, and looking back briefly at my near death experience I have but one thought, "Man, that artwork was tremendously impressive."

selfie I took after exiting the Louvre