IzmirMike and I were satisfied with Istanbul and hoped another Turkish city, Izmir, would live up to the same expectations.
Did it? Not really. But I'll still write about it since my friend "Duty" says I should. And I often listen to her.
We got off the ship and, as usual, was greeted by desperate tour guides. Mike was on a mission to visit the famous Zeus Altar and asked one of them how far and for how many Turkish lire (lee-rrrrreh).
"Zeus Altar is in Pergamum, which is a couple of hours from here. And we charge in euros."
Buu-u-uut the lire is so chee-e-eeap compared to the euro. We decided to spend 40 euros to take a tour bus instead. On this bus we listened to our "tour" through headphones, which "pointed out" landmarks that we couldn't see because the timing was off due to traffic.
Bored, Mike and I got off at a marketplace, where we got molested by vendors while looking for places with good Turkish beer. It was also the day I wore my sandals that slip on marble, and marble was plentiful at this marketplace. I held onto Mike's arm, slipping on marble and shooing off pesky vendors.But every place we found selling Turkish beer "didn't feel right" to Mike. They wouldn't allow him to achieve the "feng shui" that he needed. I didn't care where we ended up, as long as the place took lire.
Oh well; we hopped on the next bus to head back to the ship. I couldn't take the heat anymore, so I re-entered the vessel while Mike explored the port to find his "feng shui."
Athens
"Listen, I've been taxi driver for thirty-four years. I'll take you wherever for one hundred and twenty euros."
"I've been in dis business for thirty-two years. For one hundred and ten euros I'll show you all highlights you want."Mike and I had gotten off the ship at Piraeus Port. My question, "Where's the nearest Metro?" attracted a swarm of cabbies, and I didn't have repellent.
Then, after releasing ourselves from the swarm, a lone man stood at the end of the line.
"What was the lowest price you were offered? I can beat it!"
"One hundred and ten, and we have only eighty between us," I told him.
"I will give you tour for seventy!"
Sold.
We hopped in the cab, and the man was friendly enough to buy us bottled water. The first stop was the Acropolis, home to the Parthenon (Mike's first time there, my second).
"'Acropolis' means 'cross-city,'" he explained to us. "And by the way, my name is Mike, short for 'Michael.'" He had pronounced "Mike" like "Mee-keh" and, if I remember correctly, "Michael" like "Mee-kay-el.""Same here!" Mike said.
Turns out our guide was also a musician and teacher during most of the year and a cabbie during the summer.
"So, you had an election recently," My Mike brought up.
"Eeh, it's all the same. All the same," Mike the Guide responded.
He dropped us off at the Acropolis so we could wander on our own. And because my other sandals were giving me blisters, the slippery sandals had to do, again. And well, Greek architecture... "Marbleful."
Like the Sistene Chapel, My Mike thought the Acropolis was "cool." He explained to me some of the math and physics behind the Parthenon's construction, which was "cool." Later on, we were driven to the Temple of Zeus, which was really just a few tall-standing columns. But it was neat that the same ticket used to get into the Acropolis was also valid for the Temple and the Tower of the Winds, which is more of a clock tower. Along with those, we also checked out Athens's Olympic stadium; its Parliament, where Greece's "Changing of the Guard" takes place (the men here walk like horses, which is symbolic in some way that I can't remember); and stopped at a marketplace for lunch.At the restaurant at which we stopped, I had to give in to ordering beef because it seemed the only decent item on the menu. We shared a long outdoor table with an older British man.
"How long have you two been on holiday?" He asked. We told him a little over a week and then returned the question.
"Fifteen years," he replied. We laughed. Turns out he'd been to many places, and loathed California because law enforcement "wouldn't let him to smoke." He made up for that statement by informing us that he also loathed Italy.
Following lunch Mike and I walked around, burning our energy and skin. We then stumbled upon a frozen yogurt shop that also sold baklava. We had to have baklava. If we didn't have baklava in Greece, then that would have been a major "fail"--something we would have to live down the rest of our lives, or until the next time we visited Greece.
The baklava was a mouthgasm and a pleasant end to Athens. Mike the Guide waited for and brought us back to the ship. Mike and I were both in awe at how little we spent in this city.
