Traffic jams, pollution, tourists mar Athens

ATHENS, Greece--Athens, alas, is not Paris or London.
The glory of the Golden Age of Pericles fades quickly in the horn-honking, monumental traffic jams here. Rush-hour traffic crawls at 5 mph. Loud gear-shifting motorscooters add to the terrible din. Neighorhoods are often dirty, the streets and sidewalks potholed. Pollution reigns.
The English edition of Kathimerini (daily) of Athens reported recently that the Greek Health and Environment ministries urged the elderly and children to stay indoors because air pollution levels “climbed toward dangerous highs.”
Athens lacks parks. So much so Kathimerini editorialized: “We’ve long become accustomed to the tragic lack of green space in our capital…we have to visit other European cities to understand what is meant by a ‘humane natural environment’ within urban areas…Most of these cities have countless parks and tree-lined streets.”
Bicycle paths are nonexistent in Athens. But Paris has 20 miles of bike paths. Amsterdam, the bike capital of the world, has 1,100 bicycles for every 1,000 residents. The Netherlands has 10,000 miles of bicycle paths.
Nevertheless, tourists swarm in Athens even in the quasi-off-season of May. Tourism is the No. 1 “industry” of Greece. Tour groups clog the Acropolis with its symbol of Greece, the Parthenon, robbing much of the pleasure of seeing this ancient shrine.

Torture Paintings Sicken
The National Gallery of Athens is showing a special exhibition of the works of Fernando Botero, Colombian painter. His artistic signature is plump people--and even blocky pets. His wit is wry.
Both facets are evident in a 2004 portrait, the “Family.” The father and mother are staring starkly ahead like the figures in “American Gothic.” The couple’s boy is riding a hobbyhorse. From the roof of their house two vultures peer at them.
But the mood soon darkens. Botero has painted a harrowing series of pictures of Abu Ghraib, the Baghdad prison made infamous by U.S. torturers.
In one, a snarling dog is atop a blindfolded prisoner, his arms bound with ropes and his shirt blood-soaked. In another, a hooded male prisoner has a jackboot pressed on his back and is being humiliated by wearing a bra. In another, one of three piled-up prisoners vomits.
In yet another, a stream of urine is directed at a prisoner. And still another: a prisoner is clubbed. Another: a prisoner is forced to kneel over another prisoner’s genitals. And yet another: a prisoner with a bloody anus. Ad nauseam.

Boy Jockey
The Athens National Archaeological Museum has a wearying sameness: rooms full of statues, busts, cups, vases and amphoras. But the museum comes to life with a marvelous bronze of a race horse and its jockey (140 B.C.). The jockey’s face is contorted from the fury of a race. A huge vein bulges on the head of the horse, the nostrils flaring.
One historical-sociological note: a 4th century B.C. marble bust of Aphrodite was disfigured by early Christians. The face of the beautiful woman is desecrated by chiseled crosses on the forehead and chin. (Pagan Greeks, you see. Art be damned.)

The Plague
A plague infects Greece: smoking. The dining room and lounge of the Athens hotel my wife and I stayed at reeked of smoke. Greek breakfasts, lunches and dinners are eaten with cigarettes in hand.
I have accused America of being uncivilized about so many things. But surely the Greeks are uncivilized to spoil the taste of food with cancer sticks.
Kathimerini noted that Greeks smoke their first cigarette on average when they are 11.5 years old. Then it warned: “One in two teenager smokers would eventually die from the habit.”

Glimpses of Greece
Aegina, one of the Greek islands off Athens, proclaims itself the pistachio capital of the world. But it is just another tourist trap. I have bought ten times better pistachios at Trader Joe’s ... Greek women are most polite to their elders. Three times on the Metro they gave up their seats to my wife, Mary, who is a bit beyond “a certain age.” A woman even offered her seat to me. But this Old Codger refused, deeming it improper…
The Greek aperitif, ouzo, is powerful. Anise-based. The bartender in the hotel wisely advised drinking it with ice and eating food…Our rooftop hotel had a moving view of the Acropolis about five miles away. But the sight was marred by two huge billboards glaring over the avenue. If I were the Greek cultural minister, I would order the eyesores removed.