Walking to the Parthenon

With one-third of the Greek population below me, literally, I look up to my destination. Perched majestically atop the Acropolis sits the ancient temple. Rays of sun squeeze between heavy, dark, water-laden clouds directly onto the Doric columns of the Parthenon. It's as if the gods have been anxiously awaiting my arrival and were illuminating my path home. The overcast sky and the smell of rain cast doubts as to when I may make my pilgrim's ascent to the top of the Acropolis. The anticipation is unbearable. I need to go now. Foregoing by best meteorological judgement, I take on the task without my fellow travelers. They choose to wait until the morrow and finer weather. I know I will not sleep with that ancient mecca looming above me and just out of reach.

The grade of the walk is noticeable, but my adrenal glands are producing enough energy to make the walk easy. I worry about the rain and the warnings from the others concerning my foolish behavior. The weather looks more ominous than only fifteen minutes earlier when I separated from my clan. Thunder cracked! Rumbling from every direction like some sort of theatrical earthquake sound effect or maybe, Thor was welcoming me. I turn back look at Athens below. It is raining in the Old Town, but not where I stand. I am basking in an amazing elevator shaft of sunlight. So much for my fellow travelers. I'm sure they are ducking into a cafe to avoid the cloud burst and will drink plenty of Ouzo while making sport of my stubborn ways. Ha!

I continue my journey up the same stone pathway once traversed by throngs of Greeks as part of an annual rite, known as the Panathenaic Procession to the site of the grandest of the grand temples around 500 B.C. I look around and I'm almost alone. Eerie; not spooky, more like mausoleum eerie. More thunder crackled farther away. I looked for lightning along the horizon, but only see a small group of undaunted Scandinavians. Weather is not gonna scare them off. Those crazies are from the fjord and frozen tundra lands. Mediterranean rain showers are fabulous touring conditions to them.

I over and clamor past the ruins of the Propylaia, the formal entrance to the sacred place and what stood before me took my breath away...the Parthenon. Other than the eerie solitude that had washed over me even as I began my ascent, I was overwhelmed by how much of the edifice was still intact and the otherworldly significance of the sun shining solely on the the temple. I was moved to tears. I don't know where they came from, they just appeared. Suddenly, I'm glad I came alone. Some people are moved by poetry, or art, or music, or architecture. While I enjoy each of these, I am truly moved by its history or historical gravity. I sense history everywhere. I visualize the statue of the goddess Athena that once stood here. I imagine Socrates holding court on the steps of the Agora, the political center of ancient Athens. And I look across at the remarkably intact statues of women supporting the Erechtheion. A lifetime of reading and studying and, in worst cases, memorizing, this place, this ancient democratic city-state, did not prepare me for this life-altering moment.

I never got wet. No kidding.

The Walks

I thought I might begin a weekly or monthly expose on walks. "Huh?" You say.

Well, I've been thinking about travel (duh) and specifically what sparks my synapses and kick starts my adrenaline. It's the anticipation. For many tourists, the anticipation is what destroys them. They are so excited before leaving their home that they work themselves into a tizzy and can't sleep. These tourists usually burnout even before they even reach their destination...and then, there's "the letdown". "Is that it?" (Stonehenge); "It's not as big as I thought" (the Colosseum); "It's so dusty/dirty" (the Pyramids at Giza); "Why do they have to put sardines/olives on everything? I hate sardines!" (Sicily or just about anywhere in the Mediterranean) or my all time favorite, "Whaddya mean there is no a/c?" (pretty much everywhere). The world and its history are not a glossy 8x10s and, of course; weather rarely cooperates. It's gonna be hot, or cold, or windy, or rainy or dirty. Move on, expect it and adapt.

Touristy whining aside, for me, what gets my juices flowing is the anticipation right before you see something for the first time. Something magical in my mind's eye that I've only seen in pictures or on film will come to life around the next bend or through a small opening or over the rise. This is when I get turned on. I feel my pulse pick up and my hairs on my arms begin to prickle. I have to admit, I'm almost nervous. The walk up to it....I feel I need to run just to see it a half second sooner. It seems so important, so worthwhile, so life-altering. That is how travel lives within me.

I thought we would take a few "Walks" together over the next few weeks or months and hopefully I'm literate enough that you may experience some of the same passion and adrenal rushes I do. Some of the places we may visit are: Walking up to the Acropolis, Walking into Petra, Walking the Strand in London and Historic Paris. I may include other magical travel moments if this project goes as I hope it will.