When I tell people I lived in Greece for a year, they inevitably respond with some awful joke involving the curiously pervasive cliché, "It's all Greek to me." I share the obligatory laugh and nod, all the while thinking it IS all Greek to me. Despite the pollution, rat-cats, skinny yellow dogs and lecherous men, I can't help it, I'm smitten.
Greece is my New Jersey. Have you ever met someone from "The Garden State?" Sure you have. And they probably immediately put up their defensive wall in preparation for an onslaught of "Armpit of America" musings. In some ways, it can be worse with Greece. When people think "Greece," they have a postcard picture of perfection in their minds - virgin white chapels and volcanic islands set against a cloudless cobalt sky; majestic ancient ruins towering over a quaint village of charming people. Then they land in Piraeus, embark on what is sure to be an overpriced taxi ride along what may possibly be the ugliest route to Athens only to arrive in a city spewing ugly concrete and tacky 70's architecture, the Parthenon barely visible through the smog. I'm not going to lie to you.
When I first saw Athens, I cried. Literally. For hours. There I was, a classical archaeology student in the land of my dreams, feeling extremely let down, horrified and exploited. But then I got lost and found myself in some old marketplace, standing in front of an old woman, dressed entirely in black, who was weaving lace. There was a cafe next door, and a sandlemaker. And in front of it all were ancient remains, two columns barely visible, standing in a garden for anyone to see and touch. They weren't fenced in. There were no signs to keep people away, or even to explain what they were doing there. In fact, no one seemed to notice them at all. But I did.
I started looking and soon I saw ruins everywhere, next to shops and restaurants, in alleys and back yards. Old and new, coexisting, everywhere. I knew I was home.
My first bit of advice for any visitor to Athens: Bring shoes with good traction. Athens is literally covered in marble, and it gets very slippery when wet, especially the Acropolis. My second tip: get lost. Then, get out of the city. May I suggest a few destinations? Meteora, Delphi, Naflio, Monemvassia. I won't go into detail on any location - each would take up their own article - but trust me; Each is well worth the extra time you may have to spend to get there, especially in summer. If you go to an island (you should) I suggest Naxos, Paros or Crete. If you must go to Mykonos, make sure you stay sober enough to visit Delos the next morning. It's amazing.
To truly realize Greece's potential, however, you must go one step beyond venturing to locations off the beaten path. You must unleash the secret weapon, the key that will unlock the hospitality Greece was once famous for - a few words of the lovely language itself. Yes, Greek. Don't fret, it's not as difficult as you may think.
Here is a primer: To everyone you meet say: - ef-carr-ee-stoe po-lee - Thank you very much. To the cab driver say - Stoe (insert destination here) par-a-ka-low - To destination please (This will save you lots of money). To the old lady chasing after you with lace say - Then Thello Tee-poe-ta -I don't want anything. To the ticket agent say - Enna (Theo, Tree-a, Tess-er-ra) par-a-ka-low - One (two, three, four tickets) please.
I bet you would never think of trying a gyro without the lamb. I dare you to order "yeer-o hore-ees cray-aas," or gyro without meat. Most gyro makers will substitute french fries, and add extra yummy flavoring and vegetables. Delicious, unexpected treat. I suggest you also be a little more daring with dinner and order something other than salad and moussaka. Tzatziki (Zot-zee-kee, garlic, cucumber and yogurt dip) is a MUST. I know it sounds gross, but it's amazing. So is saganaki (fried cheese). Mmm. Other good dips are skordalia (garlic) or melitzanosalata (eggplant). A great soup is avgolemono (egg and lemon soup, usually with chicken). A good main dish is pastitsio (kind of like a lasagna, with eggs and butter). To drink, retsina (warning: retsina means resin, or sap, used to coat the wine barrels, and you'll taste it) or the house white wine. Of course, baklava is a must, but order it hot with vanilla ice cream. And this is absolutely required: if you're going to eat Greek, eat Greek. Order lots of appetizers and wine and share instead of ordering individual meals.
Perhaps now is a good time to mention the Greek sense of time. It's pretty lax. If you hadn't already noticed, the Greeks are pretty laid back (except when they get behind the wheel). Case in point: the Greek waiter. He may be slow, but remember, it's a luxury to have the time to waste sipping cheap retsina watching frazzled tourists search for worry beads. Whatever you do, don't comment loudly to your companion about the horrible service. Although you may not have mastered Greek yet, I guarantee you the waiter mastered English when he was in the second grade.
Now that you're feeling sufficiently native, throw out your itinerary. I know it was the French (or was it Italians?) who said que sera, sera, but I swear, the Greeks discovered laissez-faire well before Bonaparte ever mounted a horse. When traveling, especially to the islands, live on the edge. Get off a boat with no plans. Do not shoo away the eager locals who rush to your side offering rooms in their private hotels. Turn them on each other and have them compete for your business. Negotiate well and you may land yourself in some pretty amazing places, with extra drachma to spend later on libations.
Which brings me to my last tip: Pack a picnic, stake out a sight beside your favorite ruins and watch night fall while toasting to your new-found haven. The Athenian smog creates some amazing sunsets.
