First thoughts

We’ve arrived in Athens.

I feel as if I should be waxing poetic on the history and culture of the city and the ghosts of the founders of Western civilization who wander the streets still, but the city has been far too visceral for that. In a city which seems so old and full of meaning it transcends human construction and eventually comprehension, I’m amazed at how quickly the attention is drawn to the physical minutiae of the city. The heat is the first thing that hits you as you emerge from the airplane after 9 hours of cramped and restless sleeping. People always say, “At least it’s a dry heat,” but 97 degrees is hot regardless of the humidity! And the unromantic sound of traffic is omnipresent, even this morning at 1:38 when two motorcycles flew past our hotel. It may be the idealized womb of Western civilization, but it’s still a city marred by the same humanity that infests other cities.
So much happened yesterday, I’m going to bullet-point the highlights for sanity’s sake.

In New York, an old lady in a wheelchair spelled her name to a courtesy phone operator: “My name is Theressa, like ‘there’ and ‘ass’ backwards.”

Also in New York, we met up with a handful of the other new teachers and shared horror stories of the paperwork and fears of the upcoming years.

Our flight left NY an hour late, so we were stuck in our middle-aisle seats with nothing to do.

I watched the plane on the tv screen in the back of the seat in front of me inch painfully slowly up the coast of North America, across Newfoundland, and finally begin a monotonous journey across the digital blue Atlantic. Sometime during the night, we flew directly over Paris. I saw nothing.
Flying into Athens was reminiscent of flying into Cochabamba, Bolivia: dry with scattered trees peeking up through the smog. A fairly strong wind buffeted us as we were landing and didn’t stop until early this morning. Athens sprawls significantly, and all of the buildings follow the same aesthetic of whitewash turned a slight yellow under the beating sun and constant haze. In the distance the Mediterranean sits quietly, and the city of Athens stretches out from it like a wave that crashed onto shore and swept houses up the hillsides and back onto the plains. Cities are rarely beautiful, and if not for two ruin-topped hills rising above the city, it would be easy to dismiss Athens as a particularly hideous place. There’s something about those two hills, though, that redeems the ragged city that has filled in around them.

The hotel we’re in—the President Hotel—is not far from the city center, and it’s a tall building which commands a magnificent view of the city. On the 20th floor—the roof, actually—there’s a pool and a lovely lounge with three walls open to the air. Our room is ridiculously hot despite the air conditioner, so yesterday afternoon we went up to the roof and sat on the chaise lounges and let the strong wind cool us down. There’s not a natural cloud in the sky. Later that evening, we went back to the rooftop with a few of the new employees and shared our stories of the past and our reasons for being where we are today. We’re from all over the United States and near enough in age to feel like peers, a comforting group of people to have about. The city is beautiful at night. 

Miah and I accidentally took an hour and a half nap yesterday afternoon then forced ourselves awake and up so we could sleep soundly last night and better ease into the 7-hour time difference. When we got up, we went out to lunch with another girl to a place called Casba. We stood there looking hungry and lost until an employee who spoke English had pity on us and helped us get a delicious lunch. Miah and I then ventured onto the Metro and rode down to Syntagma Square and walked around the National Gardens for a while trying to get a feel for the city. I didn’t take my camera because I want to feel the city before I start to take pictures of it. Of course, because I didn’t have my camera we saw one of the funniest sights ever. An older man whose wits were questionable was walking up the steps of Syntagma Square wearing very short shorts and no underwear. I know because we saw more of him than necessary each time he raised his left leg to the next step.

It’s 9 in the morning, and our room is already stifling hot and I’m sweating. Cold showers will be frequent.

At 10:20 today, taxis will take us to the school and we will begin orientation. After lunch, we will house-hunt for 4 hours, then it’s a Saturday night in Athens. I’m excited.