Athens’s toxic pall had been cleared by a persistent wind from the Aegean Sea. From the plane the city spread broadly to the sea and to the mountains behind. Like most tourists, we wanted to see the Acropolis and Parthenon, and at different times, we each thought we had seen it first. There was no mistaking the real thing when it came into view. It seemed that everything modern beneath could never equal it.
We were stiff from the flight and flustered from being constantly jostled as we waited for our luggage. Finally, we boarded a crowded bus for the port of Piraeus. On the wharves, assaulted by the blast of ships’ whistles and the constant smell of diesel, we bought our tickets to Kos at a derelict box where an elderly man in a once-white singlet sat slumped on a stool. As he spoke, I wa
