After studying the Acropolis hill from my youth hostel across the way, I had one of those flashes of impulse that only a mountain goat should sanely entertain. I decided to climb the hill and save the entrance fee! All I had to do was walk up that slope and follow the wall to the far side where I could easily jump over and onto the Acropolis grounds. Yeah, right... Three hours later, I heard an accordion faraway playing Zorba the Greek. As I write this, there is an attic or a landfill somewhere containing a half corroded polaroid of some agitated pissant hugging the outside of the Acropolis wall on a bright sunny day. Somewhere, somehow, I found a place to catapult myself over the wall right into the entrance area where I shelled out my 1000 drachmae like everyone else. The gods did not look favorably upon freeloaders — unless your name was Socrates.


Sent a postcard back home to Howie

Each culture embeds its theology in its architecture. Compare the Parthenon to the Pyramids with their pharoah god at the top and their slaves at the bottom — the perfect expression of hierarchical society and its subsequent afterlife. Good luck, however, trying to dig into a pyramid to visit their gods, closed off in eternal darkness; whereas the Parthenon is open to all with easy access to a large interior space where gods 30 feet tall can hang out and answer your prayers.


Later in the afternoon, took a small boat named Mimikal to Mykonos. Had to pay for passage. No room to stowaway. Mumbled a short prayer for safety past Poseidon in his temple as we rounded Cape Sounion. At Mykonos, where Zeus fought the Titans, took a larger boat through the night to Patmos Island. What revelations lay waiting?