Today's adventures
Aug. 14th, 2012 02:54 pmI went for a walk from Plataia Viktoria up to Omonia, and from Omonia on to Monastiraki. On the way I passed a "Fantasy Shop," with Game of Thrones trading cards in the window and advertising for Magic the Gathering Friday night tournaments and Warhammer 40K gaming sessions.
Geekdom is international, and so is the curiously off-putting subliminal chauvinism in the posters. (Just once, I would like woman not to equal afterthought in the advertising.)
Anyway, on my way down to Plaka, I decided to walk through Athens' covered meat market...
It's an antechamber of hell.
Okay, I exaggerate. So I'm not that squeamish. But it's about 100m long, and the space between the meat displays is three people wide. The butchers aren't behind the meat displays, but in front, hacking off cuts with cleavers the size of my head. THUNK THUNK THUNK. There are chips of bone and bits of meatflesh on the cobbles, and something flew free from a THUNK twice on my way down and a meatfleck landed on my face. There were skinned lambs' heads with the eyeballs still attached, and a lamb's skin with a butcher still taking out the legs. Halves of sheep's carcases hanging suspending on racks, the bones thinly sheathed in fat and flesh, the ribs white where a bit had been sawn off. A pair of flies buzzing over a heaped tray of fresh mince. The smell of liver - liver itself, glistening darkly beside kidneys on the metal trays - and meat and old blood didn't exactly turn my stomach - it was realising that chips of bone and meatflesh had stuck to the bottom of my shoe that did that.
Yeah, I'm not about to turn vegetarian. But I think I prefer my butchers' filled with less THUNKing. And fewer flying flecks. And with more room to avoid the men wielding their knives.
I'm too young to remember if there were ever meat markets like this in Dublin. But in conclusion: will never make an industrial butcher, me.
Geekdom is international, and so is the curiously off-putting subliminal chauvinism in the posters. (Just once, I would like woman not to equal afterthought in the advertising.)
Anyway, on my way down to Plaka, I decided to walk through Athens' covered meat market...
It's an antechamber of hell.
Okay, I exaggerate. So I'm not that squeamish. But it's about 100m long, and the space between the meat displays is three people wide. The butchers aren't behind the meat displays, but in front, hacking off cuts with cleavers the size of my head. THUNK THUNK THUNK. There are chips of bone and bits of meatflesh on the cobbles, and something flew free from a THUNK twice on my way down and a meatfleck landed on my face. There were skinned lambs' heads with the eyeballs still attached, and a lamb's skin with a butcher still taking out the legs. Halves of sheep's carcases hanging suspending on racks, the bones thinly sheathed in fat and flesh, the ribs white where a bit had been sawn off. A pair of flies buzzing over a heaped tray of fresh mince. The smell of liver - liver itself, glistening darkly beside kidneys on the metal trays - and meat and old blood didn't exactly turn my stomach - it was realising that chips of bone and meatflesh had stuck to the bottom of my shoe that did that.
Yeah, I'm not about to turn vegetarian. But I think I prefer my butchers' filled with less THUNKing. And fewer flying flecks. And with more room to avoid the men wielding their knives.
I'm too young to remember if there were ever meat markets like this in Dublin. But in conclusion: will never make an industrial butcher, me.