My Travels. No. 15

I have no idea who the dude with the dagger is.

Athens, Greece. Spring 1996. I’d just returned back to Europe from a weeklong hospital stay at Lacey Clinic in Burlington, Massachusetts. My Crohn’s disease had flared again. Real Bad. I’d flown from Vienna to Boston, checked into the clinic and spent a week, nothing by mouth, being pumped intravenously with cortisone to relieve the inflammation in my digestive system. After returning to Vienna, I took a few days off and flew to Athens to recuperate. I needed the recuperation time. I was about to take a countrywide assignment to Russia.

Athens was amazing. Dusty, gritty. Ancient. You knew you were in one of the central places of European history. From the Parthenon at Acropolis to Mars Hill to the Plaka to the Agora to watching the changing of the Guard at Syntagma Square and much, much more.

I enjoyed the food. My favorite greasy spoon dish was Moussaka. I know. Moussaka and Crohn’s disease, was that really wise. I did have plenty Greek salad with plenty Feta though. Retsina wine and Ouzo aperitif I tasted a few times.

Athens was one of my favorite places to visit and hopefully when travel restrictions are over, I will visit again.