I sat on our terrace, watching the sun set and the lights begin to illuminate the Acropolis, and texted with my husband.  We spoke briefly on the phone, but his battery was about to die.  I tried to feel bad for him… stuck in a pod in Moscow…

 

I had arrived in Athens, and my luggage showed up without a hitch.  Found the taxi, right in a line where TripAdvisor told me to expect it.  I had read the warnings… there is a fixed price of 38 euros for a taxi ride into our hotel, 50 euro from midnight to 5am.  That’s it.  No additional charge for baggage, yes our hotel is inside the zone for this price.  I read the warnings that cabbies try to say it’s a higher price, or add a baggage handling fee.  But, my driver was completely honest, 38 euros.  So I gave him a few extra in tip.

Then the Athens Gate hotel had an extra surprise – in the form of a free upgrade to a suite.  We had sprung for the “executive” room, wanting a bigger terrace to relax on in the evenings, and a guarantee of a high enough room for a worthwhile view.  We knew that we had no guarantee that we would face the Acropolis but since the other choice of view was overlooking the Temple of Olympus Zeus, well, I guess I could make due.

Instead, I was shown around our suite with its separate living area and bedroom, both with doors that opened onto a wrap-around terrace.  The terrace that made me literally giggle when I went out.  I told the bellman he had made me very happy.  And I didn’t hug him.  I considered it, but I didn’t.  Didn’t want to scare him off.

We had a 225 degree view Terrace, and a bottle of wine waiting for us.

Now, if I only had a husband to share them with…

But alas, Scott was delayed in one leg of his journey, missing his connection in Moscow.  No flights out until morning.  Better?  He didn’t have a Russian visa, so he could not leave the airport.

He was thankful to be put up in the “pod” hotel by the airline.  A room with just enough space for two twin beds.

As I lounged on our terrace, with my grilled assorted mushrooms with cheese from Messinia and balsamic cream, he listened to the discussion of his neighbors through the paper thin walls until the wee hours of morning.

I sipped on a glass of wine, in the glow of the Acropolis, breathing in the warm stir of air in Athens.

I tried to feel bad for him.  But it was a little drowned out by my sigh of spoiled contentment.

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For a handy traveler’s map of our favorite stops in Plaka, see our post:  Map of Top Things to Do