Excitement on the way back from the bakery

I've just bought fresh doughnuts and a baguette from the unmarked hole-in-the-wall that is the excellent bakery on Karaiskaki street in Psyrri. 

It is the start of siesta time; the hottest part of the day.

I'm walking down the middle of the narrow empty street when a trim fifty-something comes silently sprinting towards me from round the corner of a side street with an unusual look on his face. To judge by this look and the incredible speed he is going he must surely have left the chip pan on or the bath running.

Ten seconds later, another trim fifty-something comes silently haring round the corner with a similar expression. This stops me in my tracks. I turn to see him follow the same route back up the middle of the street.

Five seconds later, a trim young policeman comes silently haring round the corner by which time the first man is turning into an alleyway and is passing out of sight. Only then does the policeman start to shout Stop! in Greek as he pounds up the hot tarmac at impressive speed. This prompts the second man to start shouting Police! Police! as he keeps pace.

At the sound of this, half a dozen people spring out of shops to watch the race because, of course, the fugitive is already past.

Excitement over, I turned to carry on my route. A few minutes later, I was pleased to see the fugitive being reluctantly led away in handcuffs by the policeman with the second man also in attendance. They passed right in front of me again before pausing for a minute in the shade to cool down a little and catch their collective breaths, and then out of sight into the hustle and bustle of Monastiraki station.

(Originally published in 2008 - today I added a screen shot from Street View and it has changed the date <rolls eyes emoji> )

Crossing streets in Athens

I'm waiting alone at the pedestrian crossing by Hadrian's Arch; the lights turned red and four lanes of heavy traffic stop reluctantly. 

I set off. 

My eye catches a twenty-something on a mobylette weaving determinedly through the cars. We are on a collision course. He shows no sign of slowing; probably hasn't even seen the red light, he is too focussed on avoiding door mirrors and bumpers. 

As he gets closer, I slow and shout "OPA!" with my best Greek arm waving. He looks up and squeals to a stop right in front of me. "Sorry," he says (in English) with a cheeky grin.

Protestant Cemetery in Athens

I went to have a look at the Protestant Cemetery today which is tucked away in a corner of the First Cemetery (Proto Nekrotafio) up on a hill behind the old Olympic Stadium.

I spent 3 hours reading almost every gravestone and took 150 photos.

I reckon very approximately that there are 150 British, 75 German, 50 American, and 25 other nationalities, mostly northern Europe nationalities including a lady born in Estonia.

A quick Google came up with:
Taken from the book Athens: A Cultural and Literary History by Michael Llewellyn Smith pub. 2004 (p.100)

After several pages on the First Cemetery (which includes this passage: In the entrance to the first cemetery, outside the cemetery office there is a notice listing grave plots available for purchase or rent. A family buys a lease on a plot from the Athens municipality and pays an annual surcharge. if the family dies out or fails to keep up its obligations, the plot reverts to the city and is put up for sale again.

These graves are for the well-off. A select few (29 in 1972), such as Makriyiannis, were given their plots free as a mark of respect by the city. According to Greek legislation there is no cremation, which the Orthodox Church prohibits (though there are signs that this position is under threat). The pressure on space is therefore considerable. The standard practice is for burial of the dead to be followed in three years by their exhumation, the bones being returned to the families, and then placed in a family grave or a common ossuary. Three years is not a long time and lime is used to assist the process of decomposition. Sweet-smelling bones are regarded as a sign of sanctity.)

The Protestant cemetery
In a corner of the First Cemetery is the extensive Protestant Cemetery of Athens, which was moved here early in the twentieth century from its original position at the corner of the Zappeion Park, across the way from the stadium. It contains some interesting finds for British, American and German visitors. Besides the names of families well known in the history of nineteenth-century Athens, I stumbled upon the graves of TH White the author of the Arthurian trilogy The Once and Future King, of the documentary film maker Humphrey Jennings (1907 - 1950) who died in Poros, and the Cambridge Historian A H M Jones (1904 - 1970) who died at sea off Athens. The most prominent of the Protestant graves is that of George Finlay. The iron rails round his grave are broken and twisted, the marble is chipped and the plinth just below the bust of his head is cracked and repaired. Finlay awaits a new Scottish philhellene to repair his monument. [End of Chapter]

The damage to Finlay's tomb looks to me like that caused by the falling of a now long gone tree.










For the first 2 hours I saw not another soul. It was very quiet and peaceful, only the very occasional unseen lizard scuttling through the dry leaves and pine needles. Some of the graves have broken.

As I was passing such a broken grave, a cat jumped out of the hole in the grave and ran off to the sound of my startled yell echoing off the high wall.