Act I: I went out for coffee with 4 women colleagues last night--the first "girls' night out" of our stay. They were all connected to the field of education in one way or another, though one was an art student. The amusing start to the evening was that everyone got lost or misdirected. Tatiana, an administrator in the Fulbright office, had suggested the cafe in the Byzantine museum as our meeting place, since it was near her office and very near a metro stop, therefore an easy commute for others.
Being somewhat nervous about directions (Ken and I get lost about half the time, even when we are carrying a map), I googled "Byzantine museum, Athens"--but the address was wrong in terms of the general coordinates, i.e., it was not near the Fulbright office and it was a different metro station. I tried Tatiana at the office, but she had already gone. Ken googled and got the same result. Eeek! What to do?
Just when I was starting to hyperventilate, Tatiana called. She was waiting outside the museum because it was closed! She gave me the exact address--it was where she had originally put it (a route Ken and I have walked enough times for me to feel empowered to head out into the wilderness, so to speak).
When the elevator got to the first floor I realized I didn't have the map. I wasn't THAT empowered, so went back for it. Turns out that was a good decision. Athens streets go every which way; not every street has signage, what they do have is often indecipherable due to weathering (though most are in both English and Greek, thank goodness, the transliterated spelling often varies from what is on the map), and I find the abbreviations confusing.
But I did manage to find the familiar route, walked through the police rerouting of auto traffic (turns out President Hollande was visiting, leading to massive traffic jams) and made the final turn onto the correct street. So far, so good! When I got to the corner where the numbers suggested the building had to be--no Tatiana! I phoned--fortunately I had saved her cell number in my phone. "Where are you," she asked. I explained I was about a block from the Fulbright office. "Keep coming," she said, "you will see me."
I did--but no Tatiana even after I had walked an extra block past Fulbright. "Hi Tatiana," I called her again,"did you mean you would see me AT the Fulbright office? Should I come up?"
"How did you get there" she asked, "without passing me?" (If I knew that, we wouldn't be having this conversation--I didn't say that.) "Turn around," she said, "walk back--I am on the corner." (But that's the corner I called you from the first time!--I didn't say that, either.)
Yes, there she was! Still alone! The others had called to explain the various reasons they were not there. The art student had googled the museum address and had gone to the other metro station. One of the other women, when the Byzantine museum turned out to be in the wrong place, figured it must be the museum close to the Fulbright that began with a B, so she first went to the Benacke. I forget what happened to the fourth woman: maybe she was just on Greek Standard Time.
So about 45 minutes behind schedule, we settled into a cafe in the area. Turns out there are TWO Byzantine museums. (Don't ask.)
Being somewhat nervous about directions (Ken and I get lost about half the time, even when we are carrying a map), I googled "Byzantine museum, Athens"--but the address was wrong in terms of the general coordinates, i.e., it was not near the Fulbright office and it was a different metro station. I tried Tatiana at the office, but she had already gone. Ken googled and got the same result. Eeek! What to do?
Just when I was starting to hyperventilate, Tatiana called. She was waiting outside the museum because it was closed! She gave me the exact address--it was where she had originally put it (a route Ken and I have walked enough times for me to feel empowered to head out into the wilderness, so to speak).
When the elevator got to the first floor I realized I didn't have the map. I wasn't THAT empowered, so went back for it. Turns out that was a good decision. Athens streets go every which way; not every street has signage, what they do have is often indecipherable due to weathering (though most are in both English and Greek, thank goodness, the transliterated spelling often varies from what is on the map), and I find the abbreviations confusing.
But I did manage to find the familiar route, walked through the police rerouting of auto traffic (turns out President Hollande was visiting, leading to massive traffic jams) and made the final turn onto the correct street. So far, so good! When I got to the corner where the numbers suggested the building had to be--no Tatiana! I phoned--fortunately I had saved her cell number in my phone. "Where are you," she asked. I explained I was about a block from the Fulbright office. "Keep coming," she said, "you will see me."
I did--but no Tatiana even after I had walked an extra block past Fulbright. "Hi Tatiana," I called her again,"did you mean you would see me AT the Fulbright office? Should I come up?"
"How did you get there" she asked, "without passing me?" (If I knew that, we wouldn't be having this conversation--I didn't say that.) "Turn around," she said, "walk back--I am on the corner." (But that's the corner I called you from the first time!--I didn't say that, either.)
Yes, there she was! Still alone! The others had called to explain the various reasons they were not there. The art student had googled the museum address and had gone to the other metro station. One of the other women, when the Byzantine museum turned out to be in the wrong place, figured it must be the museum close to the Fulbright that began with a B, so she first went to the Benacke. I forget what happened to the fourth woman: maybe she was just on Greek Standard Time.
So about 45 minutes behind schedule, we settled into a cafe in the area. Turns out there are TWO Byzantine museums. (Don't ask.)
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