A journal entry on my trip to athens

Its here I make my mid-afternoon hiatus, in a sunny square situated right outside the national library in Athens. The wistful sound of Greek folk music hangs low in the air as people croise to make their midday errands. Perched underneath a Starbucks umbrella, I think that there could have been a million other places I should have stopped to enjoy the area, even other, more Greek, coffee houses. Being that starbucks had the most customers chatting outside (in Greek, mind you), I would have thought that it had the best coffee in Athens.

I am very American. I am OK with that. Plus, any company that gives my friends their big break in the music industry is a company worth paying 3 euros for a Gold Coast blend (or god coast blend, as i so like to put it :) ).

My train ticket to Istanbul sits neatly tucked between two pages of this very book (my journal of which this is written); half in turkish, half in Greek, who would have thought that such a thing would bring an adventure only conceived about in an 8am Differential Equations lecture. Standing in line at the train ticket guichet, an over-whelming sense of fear loomed over me due to the new found chaos that Turkey, namely Istanbul, is dealing with at this moment. Words like coup d'etat, revolution, and change have always been a sense of excitement to me. Romantic stories of french revolution heroes saving orphans from certain doom, or George Washington crossing the Delaware to soon slaughter my great-great x3 grandfather Rahl enter into my head...

But they were always viewed from the safe distance of my history book.

Yesterday, in Turkey, a rigged election caused a march on the street which questions the very basis of modern government in Turkey: separation of mosque and state. Islamists want their country to come back to Muhammed much like an 8 year old wants a candy bar in a gas station window. Turkey's seemingly only connection to the west is that separation.

The turkish army vows to defend this ideal using all force necessary.

For some odd reason, this revolution seems less valiant than that which I would envision. Is it because it hits so close to me?

My dad told me he would strongly reconsider this trip. I told him I will keep a watchful eye, and head to the American embassy if there are any problems.

This will be a very exciting time to go.

Now, the revolution seems very far away. Here under the commercialized shade of the Starbucks umbrella, memories of great conversations passed in similar settings flash themselves before my eyes. I can only drift to the security and comfort that home provides.

I feel as if this is my last chance to see the world like I am doing. This is why I must stare my fears directly in the eye because if I do not now, when? I am getting older, and I will soon have commitments that will inhibit my progress in travelling. Americans are scared of Turkey--They seem to be afraid of everything. Should I be the one to start an off set? How much different is it, really?

On another note:

American coffee is delicious, and starbucks does have the best coffee in Athens.

until later

j