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| Photo courtesy of Liana |
Athens felt like home. Plaka felt like home. Over the last
few days I've tried to remember all the times and different reasons I came to
Greece - which always involved Athens.
The first time was 1976 - on my way to Israel. It was one of
at least two occasions when I took the Piraeus - Limassol - Haifa ferry. (It's
not possible anymore.) So Greece, Athens, is firmly lodged in my memory as a
part of my visits to Israel. And they were always occasions of great joy. So
Athens basks in the glow of my memories of Israel.
There were several other visits that had nothing to do with
Israel. Peter and I came here on route to our eventual destination of Patmos. Hiske
and I on route to Sifnos. With Elizabeth on route to Delphi. And then there
were a couple of occasions with the Australian Greek truck drivers out of
Arnhem. On all these visits there would have been a visit to Plaka - that’s where I would have stayed. Probably on Odos Nikis - it sounded very
familiar.
When I stood there on my last night on one of those charming
narrow streets in Plaka I felt like I was saying goodbye to a considerable
chunk of my life. I doubt I'll be back there.
I shed a tear in a moment of sweet sadness as I took in the
sight of Plaka one last time. A bouzouki and guitar duo added to the
sentimental moment as I bade farewell to a wonderful part of my life. A part
that was young, fancy free, and fearless.
It's difficult at this age farewelling old much loved
haunts. You know in all likelihood this goodbye is the last. Plaka will go on
drawing in travellers of all ages from across the globe. They’ll continue to
sip wine beneath the Acropolis and feel part of something ancient and charming.
‘Efcharisto’
Plaka. I've always enjoyed being here.
