Day two in Greece is all about getting out and away from the grit and the noise of Athens. To do so, we’ll have to take the metro, so we make a quick stop in front of the Unknown Soldier’sTomb in Sintagma Square and watch the changing of the presidential guard. In their tasseled fez, skirted jackets, white tights, knee-tassels and wooden shoes with pom-poms on the toes, they don’t look nearly as threatening as they might, despite the pointy bayonets resting on their shoulders. In what appears to be a strange mating dance, they pair off, scraping their clogged feet against the pavement and then extending their legs and arms up and out in a “k.” The guards continue this strange choreography forward until they reach the middle, then crossing to the other side in their strange kick-march, extend one leg out, gradually straighten it, bend it, put it down, and switch their bayonets from one shoulder to the other. Since cackling the way I’m inclined to would probable be regarded as culturally insensitive, I hold back, stifling an occasional snort and snap photos.
After a short metro trip from Syntagma, we arrive at the grey bus terminal sprinkled with graffiti and seasoned with grime where we’ll get our bus to Sounion. My husband, Jesus, buys a puff pastry shaped like a cinnamon roll, but stuffed with tangy goat cheese. While at home in Barcelona we routinely refer to the pigeons as rats with wings and glower at them when they get too close, we feed the Greek pigeons crumbs as if they were our personal pets, rooting for a small but plucky one and giggling as he darts in and out between the gigantic females.
Poseidon’s Temple from A Distance
A dirty bus with a bored-looking driver finally pulls up the to curb and we’re on our way, winding through dilapidated summer homes and industrial areas along the coast. Just as I’m getting motion-sick enough to pray for an end in sight, there it is, Poseidon’s temple. Clinging precariously to its perch on Cape Sounion, this 5th century Doric ruin, once the sea god’s sanctuary, has watched over the Aegean Sea since before Homer wrote the Odyssey.
A brisk wind whispers through worn marble columns, yellowed with the years and carved with the names of visitors past, among them the 19th century poet, Lord Byron. Fortunately, although I have neither the luck nor the adequate lens to find and photograph said signature, there’s abundant plant life, and small strange birds to distract me.
Flowers at Sounion
Flowers at Sounion
Birds at Sounion
Father and Daughter Taking Pictures of Bird
Tall, leggy plants are topped with fluffy globes of bright yellow pollen, and delicate items emerge from wide leaves that make me think of lilies, to end in pale-pink paper blooms. Tan with bright orange beaks, a black, beard-like marking, and wings tipped with black and white stripes, the birds are curious and far from camera-shy.
Tourists are few and seem to understand the silence that this place merits. A small girl in a brightly pink coat smiles as her father shows her how to creep up on the funny birds and take their photograph while mom relaxes nearby, reclining among the rocks, eyes closed, basking in the sun. The reality and stresses of day-to-day life are somehow safely at bay here among the ruins.
Smiling to myself, I walk down the curvy road from the temple for a different perspective, crunching and savoring an apple from the hotel fruit basket. Cliché or not, the view makes it taste better. From further up, Jesús waves and signals, “it’s time.” I chew the last of my apple and trudge up the hill. The swirling stretched-out clouds of a mostly clear day flush tangerine and lilac depending on their proximity with the glowing orb hovering just above the horizon.
Despite my furrowed brow and focused gaze, the fabled green flash of the sunset at sea evades me yet again. I blink and shake my head. Jesus raises an eyebrow. “No matter,” I tell him, “it’s time to catch the bus.” Or camp out somewhere nearby, and since we already have a hotel room in Athens, I vote for bus. Remembering that tomorrow we’ll be traveling by boat, I look up at the temple and blow Poseidon one last kiss goodbye, just in case.
The View from Sounion At Twilight
Poseidon’s Temple at Sunset
Despite my efforts to keep my eyes wide-open and absorbing the Greek countryside, I nod off and when I awake we’re back under Athena’s watch. Upon our arrival, we celebrate a day well spent outside Athens in the touristy, but tasty, Monastiriki district with souvlaki and gyros served with a plateful (no dinky paper cups here) of thick and creamy tzatziki sauce. Make your own tzatziki sauce for your next gathering and serve it with grilled meat or a dip with bread and fresh-cut veggies.
Gyros, Souvlaki and Tzatziki
Tzatziki Sauce
Combine:
3 cups Greek yogurt
1 small diced cucumber
1/4 cup diced white onion
1 clove garlic, minced
1 tsp red-wine vinegar
2 fresh mint leaves, minced
1 tsp olive oil and salt to taste.
Refrigerate overnight to allow the flavors to combine. If you can’t get your hands on Greek yogurt, no problem. Line a colander with a clean cheesecloth and fit over a bowl. Put in the yogurt and leave it to strain overnight. Drain the excess liquid the next day.
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