We only had a few hours in Athens. I’ve visited there enough to be sentimental. Ron was tired enough not to care. I intended to drag him through the streets after catching the metro from Piraeus. We hadn’t counted on Stefanos.
Crossing the causeway toward the metro station we were met by a taxi driver who jumped from his car as if we had called him and had been waiting. In the rushing traffic he negotiated his price down so far (without us saying a word) that we would have been crazy not to accept. “All day, all the sights.” In English, too.
He waited at the foot of the Acropolis. He made sure that we visited each of the ruins that were included in the price of our ticket (ushering us to the gate of each to get the backs of our tickets stamped). He never gave us a time limit but suggested how long it might take and was right on each time.
He drove us to the steps of Lycabettus Hill above the Kolonaki District when we suggested a coffee break. We invited him along but he guarded the car as we climbed up the top and had our frappe with a 360 degree view. We also ate the best and biggest Baklava that I have ever had anywhere in the world!
Ron was so shocked that I (the non-sweets eater) ordered it that he was still shaking his head when we left to examine the lovely little church on top of that hill? It was the beginning of our Easter spirit when we watched an old man and woman working hard to get everything in order for the midnight Pascha service.