Touring Greece, or, Dept. of Whoopsixonassis

My mom had an old flame who, on meeting her 40 years later, told her she looked like Greek ruins in the moonlight. Finally, I’m getting what he meant.I’m IN ruins and this IS Greece and that old moon’s been shining so much I think it’s on the payroll of the Bureau of Tourism -  the Bureau of Whoopsixxonassis, to say it in Greek or some approximation of that. (I'm not doing too well with my street-Greek. I tried to order  fresh-squeezed orange juice and the kid behind the counter thought I wanted to buy the whole machine. “Ah too many moneys!” he sang joyfully. “Four, five hunderd Euros!”)I say I’m in ruins but really I’m just vacationing. At first I thought I’d keep mum about my travel plans because what if news of my absence fell into the wrong hands allowing thieves to break into my house and steal the Queen size, Suntan, Sheer-from Tummy-to-Toe pantyhose that all the cool gals in my demographic favor? But then handy family members offered to move in so I can be honest:  together with Old Dave and a couple we’ve been vacationing with since the days  we thought nothing of packing whole duffel bags filled with crib bumpers and  potty chairs.I’ve been in Athens since Monday morning in other words and now I’m bobbing like a happy cork just off the coast of Mykonos.Speaking of real Greek ruins in the moonlight we could see the Acropolis from our rented treetop apartment from which by night it looked rosy and romantic. But hiking up there and seeing all those tumbled Tootsie Roll parts and those friezes in the museum full of lions with Halloween-style creepy-teeth taking bites out of these poor guy’s backs just made me sad. All that beauty and might crumbled to dust in spite of the fact that here were the only people God ever made who look good in pleats! It broke my heart.To comfort myself that night I ironed everything in my suitcase and, as a kindness to our future shipmates, washed a few things using our little rental unit’s designated appliances. The only problem: the drier didn’t quite do the job even after 120 minutes in. Well a girl’s gossamer panties dry in the blink of an eye but poor Dave: off we went to the ship with four suitcases two carry-ons and one plastic bag filled with ten sodden pounds of extra-large Ts, tube socks and tightie-whities. As the Classical folks would say, Excelsior!  Onward and Upward!