Well, last month I found myself for the first time in Greece, often called the cradle of Western civilization. And, completely unintentionally, I also found myself trying to one-up Homer’s hero in terms of overcoming challenges. How do I always, always get myself into these situations?
When you are in Athens, it is pretty much a requirement to go to the Acropolis, the ancient citadel featuring the legendary Parthenon. And for 99.9% of the visitors, there is one way to the top of the 500-ft high rock outcropping: a steep, cobblestone path that is decidedly unfriendly to the disabled. But for those using a wheelchair or for those with official evidence of a disability (e.g., a handicap placard with your photo), there is another way to the top: An elevator, which was installed prior to the 2004 Olympic games.
“How good are you at climbing stairs?” our guide asked, apparently confusing me and my wheelchair for a Greek god and a chariot. Sure I have muscles, but I’m not that ripped. And I’m not Greek. Gulp, she was being serious. The elevator up the precipitous cliff face to the Acropolis was fully operational. But the wheelchair lift to get to that elevator had just broken. Ahead I guessed were 847 steps (I’m bad at estimating—it technically was about 30) that had to be ascended if I was going to view the Parthenon up close.
Complicating matters: Athens was suffering an unusual early-May heat wave. Atop the rock outcrop it was over 90 degrees, humid, and shade free. And the Acropolis, I knew, wasn’t fully accessible. To get to the best views I’d have to walk a short distance over slick marble worn smooth since the 7th century BC. And, uh, I’m somewhat afraid of heights, problematic when the sole operational elevator clings to a cliff face like an elevator clinging to a cliff face. Jesus.
Even then I wasn’t too worried. As I boarded the elevator to head down, I had my own personal Athena with me to ensure my safety and watch over my every step. That goddess/caretaker also goes by the name of Laura. And she was not about to let me fall and crack my skull on our first full day of our Mediterranean vacation.
I survived. Day one was officially in the books. Ah, but my odyssey was just beginning.