Athens

Five years. Five years since I've worn a dress. Five years since I've had my feet in a shiny new pair of girl shoes, standing next to a crazy French man in a funky pinstriped suit with a pink ribbon in his hair. Five years since we stood there next to one another, in la mairie du 18éme arrondissement in Paris, listening to some very official-looking guy who rattled on in French. I barely spoke any French at all then, but it seems that very official-looking guy was jabbering on about wedding vows. I didn't really understand any of it, but apparently, we got married that day.I've read that the typical gift for a five-year anniversary is wood. Fucking wood? Sure, wooden things are nice, but, um... no thank you. Usually, on our anniversary, we'll go away for the weekend, or pick a really nice place for dinner because Olivier and I really dig a nice quiet atmosphere where we can be alone....

It was almost midnight when we jumped on the bus at the airport in Athens. The ride from the airport to the city was long, but the bus moved fast, whooshing us past hundreds of signs written in Greek that we couldn't understand. A little while later, we reached the terminus and stepped out on to the street. Standing there to greet us: a man in a suit with a soul patch. The silvery-metallic sheen of his hair, the same as his suit. His purple shirt was unbuttoned way too low - like, Bee Gees low."Taxi?" He leads us across the street to his car, throws our suitcase in the trunk. I crawl in the seat behind him. Olivier gets in next to me. Soul Patch gets in and his seat is reclined so far that he's almost laying down. Thanks a lot, Soul Patch. We tell him we're going to the Apollo Hotel on Achilleos street. He lights up a cigarette...

Tag: Athens

Anniversary in Athens

Philosophy, Foul Fruit & Facial Hair in Athens