Lions in the Street

"Lions in the street and roaming ..."



"... dogs in heat rabid foaming ... "



" ... a beast caged in the heart of the city."

How better than a little Jim Morrison to get the old story off and on its way? What we're looking at here are some pictures of Athens by the light of the full moon taken last night. Apparently, it is a long-standing custom here that, on such evening, the lights that normally illuminate the Parthenon are turned off and all comers are let up on the Acropolis for free.

Although the images don't really register the fact here, we were told that in the moonlight the marble of the Parthenon "glows." What I like about this photo are the silhouettes of the visitors in the foreground; indeed, in the moonlight, the mingling of shadows cast by people and fragments of the temple itself made the whole expanse look like a kind of gorgon's garden filled with the petrified handiwork of some sinister Medusa.

Such a poetic mood was clearly not taking in all of the visitors. One snatch of overheard conversation went as follows, between a Dutch tourist (speaking in English) and a local guard:

"Why are all the lights turned off?"

"This is done every full moon so that people can visit the temple."

"But I can't shoot my video!"

"Well, why don't you just enjoy being here and seeing the site for yourself?"

"But I can't shoot my VIDEO!"

The mind boggles! To recover from that nonsense and to reclaim the poetic mood, let's get back to Jim Morrison:



" ... one morning he awoke in a strange hotel, with the strange creature groaning beside him."



Okay, this was a strange hotel where I found myself waking up and sitting on the toilet. More disturbingly, I was trying to read this "sanskrit" on the back of the door. (Obviously, the worms who did this lovely eating didn't really know sanskrit, but that cut little ice in my dream-state).



I'm not sure what the problem was: maybe the room was too hot in this B & B in Dorset and I should have turned down the temperature on my Dimplex!



Or maybe it was the excessively loud ticking of this carriage clock on the mantle. A family heirloom, you say? Perhaps a retirement gift? Surely, too nice to just leave a fine clock like this in a guestroom in a B & B?



Or then again, maybe not! I picked up this P.O.S. expecting it to weigh five pounds or something and my hand nearly shot through the ceiling. What a piece of crap!



But, good times were had and dear friend Catherine was very kind to put us all up. Fun!