little things

It's the little things which loom large in a new city and setting:

• Walking down to the Central Market and then through the rather seedy Chinatown in search of a sushi restaurant called Godzilla.
• Met a woman and her grandson at a small estiatorio in Psirri. Her family was killed during World War II, and she told us the story of her brother's best friend being shot in the face while her brother stood by him. "I have a story," she said, and I just wanted to sit and listen to it all night.
  
• The cigar store that sells Cuban cigars at 20 Euros a pop.
  
• The old gypsy woman selling flowers from table to table.
  
• The vagrant who mumbled in English, "Have some spare change, man?" Everyone else at the table thought he said it in Greek and answered him in Greek.
  
• The truck which passed 6 inches from our backs as we sat at the curbside table.
  
• Walking back toward the metro from the restaurant and coming around a corner face to face with the Acropolis. The half moon hung over the Acropolis and dropped my jaw.
• The heat and sweaty smell of the metro as people went home at 11 o'clock last night.
  

And then I forget my keys this morning and am locked out of my room until someone with a key gets here. I'll be getting into my room around 9.

EDIT: I got home at 7 o'clock this evening after a couple of surprise meetings and a fruitless lesson planning session. All I want to do is eat.