The internal debate over the precise details of my Athens itinerary continues right through the airplane’s descent into the city. Stay a night, see the sights then move over the horizon to the islands? Or pack in a days’ worth of photography and hyperaggrivation and take an overnight ferry to gyros paradise? My gut says to go with the known quantity. Stuff it in and get out.
With each visit to Athens, the progress is palpable. Things are cleaner, newer, more accessible. People swear at me in better English. Maybe this city deserves another chance. I collect my bag from the luggage belt and head for ground transportation, still uncertain about what to do. Despite the overwrought analysis of the last few hours, I can make a case for both choices. I consider leaving my decision to fate (or, as some might call it, laziness), and taking whatever bus is waiting, be it to the city or the port.
But beside the car rental counters, I pass an official Greek Ferry office. Maybe I should look at the options. As I unclip my pack, I see the schedules. A cabin bunk on tonight’s overnight ferry to Santorini is only slightly more expensive than a night in an Athens hostel, putting me within striking distance of Lucky’s Souvlaki in time for breakfast. I had written a list of Athens hostels and directions. Decision made, I throw it away.
With each visit to Athens, the progress is palpable. Things are cleaner, newer, more accessible. People swear at me in better English. Maybe this city deserves another chance.
The bus swings onto the highway toward the city. Olive trees. Reddish rocks baking in the sun. Warm air coming in through the open windows. Major monuments on my afternoon schedule, an easy trip to Santorini set for tonight. This is better than gambling on dodging rain drops in Prague. I like this.