I’ve just spent nearly a week in Mykonos, mostly concentrating on booze and boys. I have a long layover in Athens on my way back home, and I really want to take advantage of the opportunity. I want to actually see some historic sights. The only problem is, I’m exhausted and incredibly hungover, and the biggest sights are high up on a hill. Also, there’s a heatwave in Athens, and if I wasn’t dehydrated before, I am now because of all the aggressive sweating. Still, I decide to give it a go.
As I arrive at the Monastiraki metro station I can already see my goal in the distance: Acropolis.
I stop on the way to look at some of the other historic piles of rocks, not exactly knowing what I’m looking at. There are pamphlets and signs that could help educate me, but I’m too exhausted to read or learn anything.
I get the biggest bottle of water I can find and continue my way up the hill.
At some point I start wondering if the road leading to the Acropolis is really filled with colorful graffiti or if I’m just hallucinating because of my current ailments. I’m quite sure the graffiti is real.
The views from the (almost) top are incredible, showcasing the vastness of Athens.
So close, yet still so far…
I’ve been climbing up a steep hill for what feels like 48 hours, but is probably closer to 48 minutes. As soon as I reach the top I realize there is no way I’m ever getting to the Acropolis – the ticket lines are longer than my life expectancy. I figure I came close enough and head towards the next disappointment awaiting me.