hawkwing_lb (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hawkwing_lb) wrote2011-08-15 05:33 pm
hawkwing_lb) wrote2011-08-15 05:33 pm
Entry tags:
Athens, the fourth day
Thesis progress:
2700 / 100000 words. 2.7% done.
I managed to run for ten minutes in Ares Park last night. The heat half-killed me, but I was brave. I persevered, gasping, envying other runners who seemed to find the heat mild and relaxing, old Greek men playing checkers in the shade, women and children strolling.
Later in the evening, after brief dusk turned to night, we went out to dinner, four of us from the Institute, Heinrich, asometime archaeologist and professional tourguide, and a 6'5 Canadian boy who'd just spent his summer at J.'s study season on Crete, and was passing through between the Piraeus and the airport. We ate at a kafenia open despite the holiday, proprietor'd by a bald wizened Greek with an impressive beard and an anarchist t-shirt, and a woman with the most bizarre shock of dyed-red-orange hair I've ever had the privilege to see. There was keftedákia and cheesy courgette balls and Cretan meat and cheese pie, olive oil roast potatoes and gamey chicken-and-mushroom in a pot and warm fava, an aubergine dish and pilaf and a carafe of wine.
A really nice selection of mezes: the thing is, with a group of six, you can get something of nearly everything and have plenty to share, and the bill will still only work out to about fifteen euro each. Afterwards we repaired to a bar, where I had a decent milkshake and we talked politics (aren't those American Republicans crazy?) and whiskeys and the terrible inconvenience of mobile roaming. It was 0130 before I got to bed, and I didn't get to sleep for some time.
(I did blow my budget yesterday, but that might be the last time I get to be social for a while.)
My roomie is an insane workaholic, though: her alarm went off (as it's done since I got here) at 0630, and she was gone by the time I was dropping back off to sleep at 0700. Less than an hour later, I woke to the clamour of bells from the nearest church, ringing in the Panaghia. (A very holy day today, apparently.) I lay doze-sleeping until about 1100 before getting my act together and (after showering) moving as far as the living room. I spent a good couple of hours working with the windows open and the shutters wide.
At about 1530, I set out to stroll up to Strefi Hill, to see if it was interesting. On the way, I passed a very talkative cat lurking under a parked car. Said cat didn't emerge, except for a single black nose against a black and white face, but he was exceedingly vociferous. He was hard done by, monkey! and determined to make it known.
The park on Strefi seemed to be possessed of a large concentration of people sleeping rough in addition to a motorcycle gang, so I passed on the allegedly good view of Lykavittos Hill (seen from the streets leading up to Strefi, Lykavittos is pretty impressive, with a Greek flag waving in the breeze and this giant drop - not acropolis steep, but from a distance it appears to be even taller) and wandered back down to Plateia Exarcheia, where a cafe seduced me with promises of roast chicken (damn good) and fried courgette (chopped like chips, succulent crunchy food of the gods). I sat there under the shade of green trees festooned with cooing, feather-ruffling pigeons, thinking about all the ways it's so very easy to begin to feel at home here, despite its immense differences and stifling heat.
Admittedly, I'd feel much more at home within shouting distance of a beach. Or even just the sea.
Spent the evening after my return working in my bedroom with the aircon on. (If I didn't have aircon time, I'd be very limited in my productivity. As it is, I've conquered my urge to push it down as far as it can go in favour of keeping it around 23C - and I still sweat under the sheets at night. The roomie is Australian, and seems to enjoy heat, but has been very good about my need for coolness at night.)
Tomorrow, my to-do list comprises two items. Possibly three, but I can't really afford to push too hard and cause myself to collapsify.
I managed to run for ten minutes in Ares Park last night. The heat half-killed me, but I was brave. I persevered, gasping, envying other runners who seemed to find the heat mild and relaxing, old Greek men playing checkers in the shade, women and children strolling.
Later in the evening, after brief dusk turned to night, we went out to dinner, four of us from the Institute, Heinrich, asometime archaeologist and professional tourguide, and a 6'5 Canadian boy who'd just spent his summer at J.'s study season on Crete, and was passing through between the Piraeus and the airport. We ate at a kafenia open despite the holiday, proprietor'd by a bald wizened Greek with an impressive beard and an anarchist t-shirt, and a woman with the most bizarre shock of dyed-red-orange hair I've ever had the privilege to see. There was keftedákia and cheesy courgette balls and Cretan meat and cheese pie, olive oil roast potatoes and gamey chicken-and-mushroom in a pot and warm fava, an aubergine dish and pilaf and a carafe of wine.
A really nice selection of mezes: the thing is, with a group of six, you can get something of nearly everything and have plenty to share, and the bill will still only work out to about fifteen euro each. Afterwards we repaired to a bar, where I had a decent milkshake and we talked politics (aren't those American Republicans crazy?) and whiskeys and the terrible inconvenience of mobile roaming. It was 0130 before I got to bed, and I didn't get to sleep for some time.
(I did blow my budget yesterday, but that might be the last time I get to be social for a while.)
My roomie is an insane workaholic, though: her alarm went off (as it's done since I got here) at 0630, and she was gone by the time I was dropping back off to sleep at 0700. Less than an hour later, I woke to the clamour of bells from the nearest church, ringing in the Panaghia. (A very holy day today, apparently.) I lay doze-sleeping until about 1100 before getting my act together and (after showering) moving as far as the living room. I spent a good couple of hours working with the windows open and the shutters wide.
At about 1530, I set out to stroll up to Strefi Hill, to see if it was interesting. On the way, I passed a very talkative cat lurking under a parked car. Said cat didn't emerge, except for a single black nose against a black and white face, but he was exceedingly vociferous. He was hard done by, monkey! and determined to make it known.
The park on Strefi seemed to be possessed of a large concentration of people sleeping rough in addition to a motorcycle gang, so I passed on the allegedly good view of Lykavittos Hill (seen from the streets leading up to Strefi, Lykavittos is pretty impressive, with a Greek flag waving in the breeze and this giant drop - not acropolis steep, but from a distance it appears to be even taller) and wandered back down to Plateia Exarcheia, where a cafe seduced me with promises of roast chicken (damn good) and fried courgette (chopped like chips, succulent crunchy food of the gods). I sat there under the shade of green trees festooned with cooing, feather-ruffling pigeons, thinking about all the ways it's so very easy to begin to feel at home here, despite its immense differences and stifling heat.
Admittedly, I'd feel much more at home within shouting distance of a beach. Or even just the sea.
Spent the evening after my return working in my bedroom with the aircon on. (If I didn't have aircon time, I'd be very limited in my productivity. As it is, I've conquered my urge to push it down as far as it can go in favour of keeping it around 23C - and I still sweat under the sheets at night. The roomie is Australian, and seems to enjoy heat, but has been very good about my need for coolness at night.)
Tomorrow, my to-do list comprises two items. Possibly three, but I can't really afford to push too hard and cause myself to collapsify.
no subject
Add one more: take chicken to cat under car! This is obviously what he was complaining about, your lack of chicken-bringing.
no subject
(Besides which, pigeons everywhere. I believe hungry cats should work for a living. :P)
no subject
Perhaps he was inviting you to join the picnic? Or stay and scritch a while? Or feed him by hand so he didn't have to come out from under his nice car, or...
Who knows? There's a cat on a street near here who always comes bounding over to shout at me. Sometimes the complain is obvious - "It's raining! And my furs is wet! Do something, monkey!" - but sometimes not. I always attribute the ambiguous grumbles to a perceived lack of chicken, it's just easier.
Mmm, pigeon. Pigeon pie, pigeon with prunes... I'll send the boys.
no subject
There are, I believe, more than enough pigeons to go around. And many many skinny feral cats who would love to eat Grumbling Kitten's bowl of food. :P