Everyone Has Gone to Greece in October

On FB I see many friends and acquaintances were also in Greece this month. It’s crazy! It’s not flattering to tourism—so maybe this was only good therapy for me. LOL

Everyone Has Gone to Greece in October

 

Humanity crushed together enters the stairs,

we are thousands-deep, move as one

watching our feet on uneven rock, then slippery marble.

We stand in wide lines to ascend the hill that hosts

the sacred seat of civilization, symbol of democracy.

 

No building in Athens can be taller than this hill — The Acropolis.

Doric columns dominate the Parthenon, the temple

that honors the goddess of wisdom, Athena,

from a time, centuries before Christ,

when religion was Greek gods and goddesses. 

 

A guide is talking through one blue ear bud

tucked in my right ear but I don’t hear what is said,

my concentration goes to one foot in front of the other,

staying upright, breathing into a tight, white mask.

Something about columns, Golden Ratio of 49, architects.

 

My forehead sweats, the autumn sun is warm enough to make us hot.

The mass inches upward toward the Parthenon,

guide talks in my ear, about Homer, The Odyssey and Iliad,

then takeovers by Catalans, Venetians, Turks, Romans, not sure in which order.

Everyone pushing, pushing for photos. Just photos.

 

Goddess statues hold up another building nearby.

Strong women in stone. We are rushed along. I am not sure what we saw.

The mass keeps moving, phones click, click.

(No one has real cameras anymore.)

Selfie sticks joust for position.

 

I waited decades to visit the birth of civilization,

only to be swept along in a crowd too big to care about history.

I will read about it later on Google.

Today is dozens of land tours and eight cruise ships in port

on this Monday in October.

 

Each group trails behind their respective guide

who holds a sign to follow, like preschoolers on a field trip.

The cruisers wear stickers with their ship name and group number.

One stray joins our group by mistake. 

 

I am but a small dot in this universe of over-tourism.

Dark side of marketing. Hollywood laughs in the shadows.

Mama Mia, here we go again.   

Rework: Took your coomments into consideration. Then, trying a Haibun in three parts since it’s a long poem (the haiku parts are not strict arithmatic but still work I think.)

Everyone Has Gone to Greece in October

 I

Our Athens tour guide is talking through one blue ear bud tucked in my right ear but I don’t hear what is said. My concentration goes to one foot in front of the other, staying upright, breathing into a tight, white mask. Strangers together, we move as one, watch our feet on uneven rock, then slippery marble, ascend the hill known as The Acropolis. We are thousands-deep, humanity crushing together, eager to travel again after Covid.

Tour groups arrive by sea, and land,
from America mostly
exchange rate favors the dollar.

II

My forehead sweats, the autumn sun is warm enough to make us hot. The mass of tourists inches toward the Parthenon, the guide talks in my ear, about Homer, The Odyssey and The Iliad, something about columns, Golden Ratio of 49, architects; takeovers by Catalans, Venetians, Turks, Romans, not sure in which order.

 Goddess statues hold up another building nearby. Strong women in stone. We are rushed along. I am not sure what we saw. The crowds seek photos. Just photos.  The mass keeps moving, phones click, selfie sticks joust for position.

Wind blows souvenir gowns
long-haired women pose
pretend to be models

 III

We waited decades to visit the sacred seat of civilization, symbol of democracy, only to be swept  along in a crowd too big to hear about history.

I will read about it later on Google.

Today, dozens of land tours and eight cruise ships flood the ancient sites on this Monday in October. Each group trails behind their respective guide who holds a sign to follow, like preschoolers on a field trip. The cruisers wear stickers with their ship name and group number.  One stray joins our group by mistake. 

Over tourism
Hollywood projects our desire
Mama Mia, here we go again.   

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