Athens, Greece May 2008

Where to begin? Arriving in Athens for the 10th-Annual ATINER educational conference without a paper written and sketchy directions from the airport to the Metropolitan Hotel was disconcerting to say the least. However, the train from the airport to the center of the city was no problem, even with luggage. Finding the 126 Bus at Syntagma Square toward the hotel was a different story. And, waiting for it to arrive (not on schedule) for 90 minutes in the sun was another issue. The temperature in downtown Athens at 2:00 pm on May 25th was pretty warm. Trying to read the bus stops in Greek was also a challenge, but we located the hotel, settled in, and I moved into a panic mode for the paper.

For my presentation, I had only fifteen minutes to connect--through curriculum--the increasing violence in the States’ public schools, the Genocide in Rwanda, and the current “Cyprus Problem.” It was a miracle it ever came together—and I added a 48-slide Power Point to go with it the night before. Also, on the first day of the conference, when I glanced more closely at the program, I discovered that I was not just presenting the next day, but was also a chair for a two-hour session immediately thereafter. Talk about an overdose! Each session had six presenters!

All in all, the two-days of “academic work” were jam-packed with topics from teaching Latin in South Africa to Dewey’s philosophies, to tourism education in Dominique. After that, we enjoyed two days of Athens explorations: first, a typical Greek taverna dinner with dancing (held, however at the American Building, a high rise in Athens. The meal was a bit like a Chicago diner-doing-Greek-Buffet.) Afterwards, the combo played traditional songs and a few souls tried to negotiate the complicated footwork to the circle dances, stumbling over each other much of the time. In general, the Americans in the crowd (it was truly international—African, French, British, Bulgarians, Spaniards, Chechs, Swedes, etc.) were more adventuresome in their efforts—one guy did a solo gyration to a dance that was supposed to be a Greek lover’s elegant tribute to his lady fair. (True to form in my semi-elitist “I’m not a tourist; I live here” mode, I cringed. But, I also had stumbled around in the circle dance a few moments before!) The next day, we toured by bus to the village of Marathon, where the first 26 mile race was run (when Persia was defeated by the Athenians?), then to a burial site of the warriors. Although the purpose of the trip was less than overwhelming, the bus ride up and down the hillsides by the sea and the lunch in the village were very nice. After that trip, back in Athens, Jonathan and I toured Plaka and then climbed to the Acropolis (in 95+ degree heat) to see—for real—the architectural marvels only before viewed in textbooks. Amazing.

The second day of “fun” included a three-island cruise to Poros, Hydra, and Agenia. Mostly, the day was spent in the sun and sea glare, wondering if I was paying too much for the few souvenirs I purchased. The beaches were less than grand, but I smiled the whole day at the incredible fact that I was touring the Greek islands! Ohmygod. What a bonus to my life!

Today, we head to Paros, an island further away, hopefully a little less “touristy,” to find a quiet café, a lovely beach, and some motor scooters to rent. It’s been a long time since I drove my brother Peter’s Moped around our big lawn in Illinois, cutting it as close as possible to the oak trees, wearing a path in the grass, driving my mother crazy with the motor’s drone. I was only eleven or twelve—and a long way from my driver’s license. But, I learned then about speed and daring on that red Moped—and have the leg scar to prove it!

Traveling with my youngest son has been an unveiling of genetic transmissions. . .Sheley and Strow. Watching him, day in and day out, talking to him, seeing him as strangers view him. . .all has allowed me to see his relatives revealed in his looks and actions. Especially, my three brothers have appeared and reappeared. In Jonathan, I see: Joe Tom’s knock-out, movie-star-handsome good looks, when he was a deep, dark-tanned life guard at Black Hawk Beach in Ottawa; I also see Peter’s take-charge, don’t question, I-know-best attitude when I fail to make a decision; and Norm’s quick wit, shared sense of humor, and ready smile when something amuses us both. . .I see, too, my cousin Butch’s pleasure in sun and water; I recognize my other son’s down-home joy in sampling the Mthyos, Efes, or K.E.O. beers—and in bikini-watching on the beach. At sunset, looking out at sea, I see his father’s quiet reflection at the waves coming in, and my own free spirit wanting to set sail again.