Anywhere But Here: Greece Continued

I woke up the next day and returned the car to the same guy I got it from. He walked around the car and seemed genuinely disappointed that I hadn’t scratched it, and I assumed that their business must depended upon the follies of the clientele. He sighed, shook my hand, and drove off. My friend Peter was meeting me later that day, but I had a few hours so I decided to do something Jewish with my time. I got onto the subway train and made my way to another square two stops away, got out and found the Jewish Museum. I was very pleased with it—a very well done place beginning at the basement level and moving up a winding staircase through history, up until the present age. Jews have a very, very long history in Greece, and in the Ancient Agora only a 15 minute walk from the museum archaeologists discovered carvings on friezes of menorahs.

What was also striking about this museum were the stories of the righteous gentiles during the Holocaust. I found this story to be especially powerful (click picture to enlarge).

After WWII the Nazis wiped out approximately 87% of Grecian Jewry. 

I walked around the city a bit more and finally met Peter back at the hostel—my first friendly face in a week. We talked to the people at the hostel and booked tickets on a ferry headed for the island of Santorini. We then explored up the street and found a kiosk selling cans of beer for 1 euro each, and we both bought ourselves five cans.

At 3:30 PM we got to the ferry, picked up our tickets, and boarded. It was a luxurious boat, with neon lights and couches and television sets. 

We sat on the boat, which was planning for departure at 5:00. At 4:30, the captain cracked over the speaker and informed us that there would be an hour delay because of choppy Mediterranean winds. A few hours later, we were again informed that the boat was postponed until the next morning at 9:00AM. We were given the option to sleep on the boat overnight.

Peter and I disembarked and found a coffee shop. We were upset at first and didn’t really speak, trying to figure out what to do. My flight back to Dublin was leaving in two days, and the ride to Santorini was 12 hours by boat. Planes were too expensive. After a half hour of feeling sad for ourselves, Peter had the brilliant idea to just get off at a closer stop, since the boat docked about five times before reaching Santorini, and we wondered why we hadn’t thought about that a half hour earlier.

We found a small restaurant and ordered food from the very kind owner. He let us drink our beers there as well. Taking out his first beer, Peter slipped his fingernail under the metal top and said, “You know what can make this night better?” And saying that he broke the can’s seal, causing a rush of vapor and fizz to hit me in the face. He looked at me for a second stunned, and then we both burst out laughing for a good five minutes, squandering any irascible feelings from before. Thank God for the stupid little jokes.

We ended up having a great time in the restaurant, talking to the people there, using the free wifi, drinking the beers. Outside the wind was howling, blowing over furniture—a hurricane without rain. We understood then why the boat had to be delayed. It was around 11:00 when we headed back to the boat, talking about how we couldn’t possibly stay in Athens for another two days, and I said that when I write about this day I’ll title the post: “Anywhere But Here.”

We found a nice big couch and drank the rest of the beers. The classic movie Eurotrip was on my computer and we watched it. I kept thinking how bad the movie was, but how at the same time all the scenes in that movie, especially the one-liners, are truly classic. 

We had a good night's sleep along with some of the other passengers on the boat who had nowhere else to go that night. It was a million times better than the floor of the Granada bus station.