And so we settle down to an Athenian routine.
Exploration and photography in the morning; gift shopping and lunch in the afternoon; dinner and extended evening at Arcadia with our hilarious waiter buds, who fatten us with free desserts and drown us in complimentary alcohol. The guys are so much fun, and the food is bomb. Life could be worse.
It's interesting that the entire time we're there, which adds up to a good quantity of hours, no other Americans talk to us. We're effusive, gregarious, laughing and talking loudly with the staff, especially once they get us lubricated. There are Americans at many nearby tables: retired couples, young couples, families with children. But they keep to themselves, and although we smile and nod, not one chooses to engage with us.
They look unhappy. They bicker, or they stare silently at their food. The children look cowed, everyone seems confused.
What's their deal?
Maybe we're so obviously buzzed that they feel the need to protect their children from us. Maybe the news of my angry encounter with the evangelicals at the Areopagus has gotten 'round. Maybe they're just intimidated by a foreign country. Maybe they hate being there and can't wait to get home.
Note that neither of us actually cares. I only mention it 'cos it seems so odd.