Friday 13th January 1984
We were already awake when the Russian hotel woman started leaning on our noisy doorbell, so it was not such a rude awakening. We were ready in a trice and after a dreadful session in the toilet we joined the crowd in the lobby.
As usual there were idiots amongst us. A moronic British kid was alarmed at the loss of his face cream while the hotel staff were more concerned by the loss of his room key. The “rebel” who had been tossed off the coach tour for failing to fill out a form practiced his disco twirls as he chatted to the “film star”, a poseur who clearly thought he was Sting of The Police fame.
We were bussed to Sheremetyevo International Airport under the watchful eyes of baby-faced security men in green uniforms. At the airport we tried to get breakfast, but the slow, disjointed service defeated us.
We sat at a cafeteria table. First you got bread, then about half an hour later someone would come around and dispense a knob of butter. Fifteen minutes later egg cups and coffee cups appeared. When you got your coffee the delay before the milk arrived ensured that the drink was cold. The waiters looked fed up and disinterested.
For once Russian organisation seemed to have broken down and we had to run around enquiring before finding and being gained admittance to the illusive Gate 13, via Gate 11.
The plane ride was relaxing, and we got a snack meal which we devoured greedily. As we began our decent through the clouds two hours after take-off, we were worried by the unGreek-like terrain. Where we on the right flight?
Vast snow fields stretched all around, broken by the odd lines of trees or small group of square houses. It turned out that this was a stopover at Sofia airport in Bulgaria. Blue uniformed officials in furry hats and double-breasted trench coats saw us off the plane and onto a bus.
The airfield was bleak, and snow was falling as we drove passed Bulgarian planes on the tarmac, many of which looked like older models that had seen better days. The Transit Lounge was warm, modern and comfortable but we had no Bulgarian currency for coffee.
Airborne again, we had coffee before landing at Ellinikon International Airport, sometimes spelled Hellinikon, (Greek: Ελληνικόν) which was the international airport of Athens at the time. After breezing though Immigration and Customs we got the address of the International Youth Hostel in Athens and changed our money for Greek drachma.
We took the 60-drachma bus to Sigmata (this is how it was spelled in my log) Square in the city centre. Syntagma Square ("Constitution Square") is the central square of Athens. The square is named after the Constitution that Otto, the first King of Greece, was obliged to grant after a popular and military uprising on 3 September 1843.
It is located in front of the 19th century Old Royal Palace, housing the Greek Parliament since 1934. Syntagma Square is the most important square of modern Athens from both a historical and social point of view, at the heart of commercial activity and Greek politics. The name Syntagma (Greek: Σύνταγμα) alone also refers to the neighbourhood surrounding the square.
We pursued a wild goose chase before finding our way to the YMCA. Newsagent booths on the street sold English magazines and the city had such a European air that you had to look at the Greek writing on signs to remind you that you were not in Paris or Amsterdam. Girls swanned around looking like cover girls for the fashion magazine Vogue as we moved on to the Head Office of the YHA having discovered that the YMCA was closed for refurbishment and the YWCA didn’t allow men to stay. Huge posters everywhere advertised the familiar red and white Ouzo 12 aniseed liqueur which had led us astray on our Young World holiday in 1979.
Ouzo 12 is a classic Greek aniseed liqueur, produced originally by the Kaloynannis brothers. Legend has it that those brothers made a multitude of different Ouzo recipes and found the one in Barrel Number 12 to be the best, hence the name.
Ouzo has the distinct fresh flavour of fennel, liquorice on the nose and subtle spices underneath. On tasting, the strength of liquorice is released, and the fresh fennel notes come through strongly with a welcome hint of sugar at the end. It fails to go on to say that drinking too much of it leads to slurred speech, memory lapses, aggressive outbursts and impulsive behaviour, and loss of motor coordination!
We checked out the YWCA but it was for women only. The World Young Women's Christian Association (World YWCA) is a movement working for the empowerment, leadership and rights of women, young women and girls in more than 100 countries. The members and supporters include women from many different faiths, ages, backgrounds, beliefs and cultures. Their common goal is that by 2035, 100 million young women and girls will transform power structures to create justice, gender equality and a world without violence and war; leading a sustainable YWCA movement, inclusive of all women.
The YWCA is independent of the YMCA, but many local YMCA and YWCA associations have merged into YM/YWCAs or YMCA-YWCAs and belong to both organizations, while providing the programs of each. The World office is currently based in Geneva, Switzerland.
Our International Youth Hostel Association membership expired on 31st December 1983 so we renewed it for 1984 at the Greek YHA Office for the equivalent of $12 U.S. The secretary typed out our new membership cards even though it was after the official closing time of the office at 14:00 hrs. An old Greek businessman ranted and raved excitedly to his colleagues seated around an oblong table.
We had a nasty small black coffee at a pavement café before walking to the Youth Hostel at 75 Damareos Street in Area Pagrati. Our IYHA Handbook said “Pagration Youth hostel is located in Pagrati, a nice neighbourhood of Athens, one of the best residential areas in the city”.
There appeared to be ancient monuments on every hill. We walked across the National Garden, which was commissioned by Amalia, the first Queen of modern Greece. The National Garden, formerly the Royal Garden, (Greek: Εθνικός Κήπος) is a public park of 15.5 hectares (38 acres) in the centre of the Greek capital, Athens.
We passed the Arditos (Athens) Stadium. The Panathenaic Stadium (Greek: Παναθηναϊκό Στάδιο, romanized: Panathinaïkó Stádio, [panaθinaiˈko sˈtaðio]) or Kallimarmaro (Καλλιμάρμαρο, [kaliˈmarmaro], lit. "beautiful marble") is a multi-purpose stadium in Athens, Greece. One of the main historic attractions of Athens, it is the only stadium in the world built entirely of marble.
A stadium was built on the site of a simple racecourse by the Athenian statesman Lykourgos (Lycurgus) c. 330 BC, primarily for the Panathenaic Games. It was rebuilt in marble by Herodes Atticus, an Athenian Roman senator, by 144 AD and had a capacity of 50,000 seats. After the rise of Christianity in the 4th century it was largely abandoned.
The stadium was excavated in 1869 and hosted the Zappas Olympics in 1870 and 1875. After being refurbished, it hosted the opening and closing ceremonies of the first modern Olympics in 1896 and was the venue for 4 of the 9 contested sports.
It was used for various purposes in the 20th century and was once again used as an Olympic venue in 2004. It is the finishing point for the annual Athens Classic Marathon. It is also the last venue in Greece from where the Olympic flame handover ceremony to the host nation takes place.
We paused to look at the myriad motorbikes parked on the streets and finally found the Youth Hostel. It was not an official YHA place, but it was clean, quiet and cheap enough at 200 Greek drachma for a dormitory bed for the night.
A new English bloke was on reception and he booked us in. There was only one other occupant, a funny Greek bloke. We dumped our gear and dined on crisps and chocolate washed down with milk before going to the flicks (cinema) at 17:15 hrs.
We enjoyed the new James Bond film starring Sean Connery which was called “Never Say Never Again”. The title was (allegedly) based on a conversation between Sir Sean Connery and his wife. After Diamonds Are Forever (1971), he told her he'd never play James Bond again, there he was, playing James Bond again. Her response was for him to "never say never again".
"Never Say Never Again" is a 1983 spy film starring Sean Connery and directed by Irvin Kershner. The film is based on the James Bond novel Thunderball, which had been previously adapted in a 1965 film under that name. It was intended to redress the comedic turn that James Bond films had taken since 1973 with Roger Moore in the starring role.
Our verdict was that it was almost credible, humorous (although cringe-makingly sexist by today’s standards) and violent. In these pre-Daniel Craig days we felt that Sean Connery was the ultimate portrayal of James Bond 007. This was reminiscent of the early James Bond films which I had always thought were the best and remained my opinion until 2006’s “Casino Royale” when Daniel Craig reinvented the genre.
Back on the streets most of the shops were open and gangs of youths roamed the streets looking hip and trendy. We had a poor McDonalds Big Mac clone in a fast-food place before returning to the Youth Hostel for a much-needed early night. Hopefully one blanket will be enough as it is very cold.
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