The idea was to take an extra day in Athens and actually do some of the things we missed in January — the museum or the Ancient Agora or something. But truth be told, my butt hurt (bus) and my knee hurt (probably also bus) and my toe hurt (gout) so I wasn’t really pushing to get moving to do anything other than get pain medication since pharmacies are closed on Sunday. That, and it was raining.
So we took it easy, enjoyed the sound of the rain from the hotel bed, and then ventured out to get some coffee once we felt confident the pharmacies were open. Armed with a new supply of naproxen, we camped out under an umbrella at Dope Coffee and ate some breakfast before the rain picked up and forced us inside to consider more coffee and reconsider even the plans we had already reconsidered.
We finally took advantage of a break in the rain to wander towards our next destination — the Ancient Agora. Having already been through Monastiraki Square pretty much every day in both trips, we decided instead to wander through some side roads into Psyrri, the neighborhood next to Monastiraki, before crossing back over Emrou Street to head towards the Agora and the Acropolis beyond it. Cool neighborhood from what we could see, old tavernas mixed with trendy cafes and a LOT of street art. We’ll definitely wander further through this area at a later date.
Crossing back over towards the entrance, we were feeling like a snack (two double-espressos finally wreaking havoc on H’s stomach) so we found a fun little place called Potato King to stop and get some fries. The basket came out with a variety of fry types, including some smiley faces that were more like kroketten from the Alt Landstuhl than an actual French fry. Definitely a great place for a snack — and it didn’t hurt that we escaped a little rain while we were there.
But by this time, it was getting past 3, and with the Agora closing at 5, we decided to get ourselves in before it got too late to actually see anything.
The big weenie in the Agora is the Temple of Hephaistos, one of the most well-preserved temple ruins in the whole city. It sits on a hill overlooking the rest of the excavated ruins, but still well below the level of the Acropolis in the distance. There’s also a museum built to resemble one of the stoas that stood in the Agora in the second century BC, as well as ruins of a number of other buildings around the grounds.
Of course, once we got right about here, ready to climb up to the Temple … it started raining again. We hung out under a tree, watching a couple of cats entertain the thoughts of approaching tourists to see if they had any snacks, and waited for the rain to let up so we could climb up to the Temple. (The ministry responsible for the parks, in their infinite wisdom, built the steps with marble in some spots, which I’m sure evokes the era of the buildings, but is dangerously slippery in this soggy condition.)
After the pause for rain, then a careful climb up a flight of stairs, then another pause again midway up for more rain, we gave up and decided to accept our wet fate and work our way around the Temple and through some of the grounds before seeking shelter one last time in the eaves of the museum building. By this time, though, the closing whistle was fast approaching, so we made our way back to the entrance.
The road that runs along the north side of the Agora is lined with restaurants facing the Agora and with a great view of both the Temple of Haphaistos and the Acroplis, so we grabbed a table at a little taverna called Diodos and ordered some snacks — tzatziki for me and potato salad for H, and some bread — and a half a liter of red wine.
The rain started decided to run past its projected finish time, and so we continued to sit, and one carafe of wine turned into a second, and sat and talked about traveling, about drinking, about the rain (which had figured out a way to soak my pantleg and shoe despite being under the table), about math, about the American busybody over my shoulder who was befriending every table around her, about the tour group that must be coming since they hustled everyone over to one side of the patio (which did finally materialize), about how our plans for next year might change so we can do more of exactly this thing.
The second carafe finally became a third as we ordered some baklava to have for dessert. The waiter also brought out a couple of small plates of what felt like panna cotta? drizzled with honey, and finally a little pitcher filled with something hot.
“You will like this,” he said, without any further information on what it might be.
He was right.
Sweet, spiced, with a definite alcohol burn to go with the physical heat of the pitcher, it was perfect for a cool, rainy night. We finally determined it was oenomelo — according to the waiter, red wine spiked with cinnamon, sugar, and amaretto. We finished it and the last 7/8ths of the last half-liter of wine, and started our way back towards our hotel.
(I did say we talked about math.)
Following the road back along the edge of the Agora, it eventually merged back into the flea market alleys around Monastiraki, and became what appeared to be the ice cream district of Athens, as there was a string of four or five different ones packed into the same side of the street — including one with a wall of flowing melted chocolate!
We have no willpower to avoid ice cream anyways, so we picked up a couple of cups of gelato from the same shop we tried last trip (Da Vinci) and enjoyed them as we strolled back.
These are the days that I love when we travel — when you let the day take you where it wants to go and you just enjoy living the experience.