Dear sirs: Saw a reflection of myself and was appalled. What with Friday's gut-busting eat-a-thon, the Λοστρέ κουζίνα's beetroot spread with yogurt and walnuts, and its kontosouvli chunks of grilled pork (Pitheou 32), chased by a Greek salad and plate of fried shrimp at Margara (126 Chatzikiriakou in Piraeus), I am feeling attacked. Not to mention the free desserts. I will not be placated by these furry dining companions you keep sending me. You will be hearing from my lawyers.
In one of his letters, Freud describes a trip to Athens with his brother. Upon seeing the Holy Rock he said he remembered thinking, "So this all really does exist, just as we learned in school!" He went on to explain that he never disbelieved the existence of the Acropolis, but that he did doubt he would ever see it in person. "There was something dubious and unreal about the situation." Sing it, my man. At least twice on this trip I have turned to a stranger and said, "I can't believe I'm here." There is a shared exuberance on the hilltop. People skip with joy, handing their phones to strangers, hoping for a perfectly framed photo. Often, the picture-taker will return the request: "Now do me!" I noticed a similar giddiness among visitors at the Baalbek ruins. Maybe it has to do with the colossal nature of these monuments. They are not relatable on a human scale, leaving us a bit dizzy. There are many ways to attack Acropolis Hill, bu...
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