Last Tango in Athens

So there we were tonight, sitting outside a cute little taverna in Athens, Greece, listening to an incredible quintet, led by a Hungarian violinist, play dance music most usually associated with dance halls in Buenos Aires. And I didn't even mention that we had only just arrived from Paris, where last tangos are supposed to be heard. Small world.

I guess I should back up a bit. I'm posting tonight from Athens, my first international blog entry, and I was originally planning on just throwing up some cute pictures of Alexandra playing at the Parthenon this morning. But that was before we fell into this magical night of tango music, which became more and more irresistable as we ate our lamb at a favorite outdoor restaurant in Plaka, Platanos.

Every time we come to Greece, which is now becoming every other year, we make a beeline to Platanos, a classic Greek taverna. There's no shortage of cute tavernas in Plaka, but Platanos has always been special. It sits by itself on a secluded Plaka street, with tables covered by a natural canopy of vines and flowers. It's quite picturesque and the food is simple and good, and that's probably why we always keep coming back.

Tonight, we were there at 7:30, which is pretty much breaksfast time for most Greeks. Greeks, you see, don't believe in eating dinner until at least 10:30, something that tends to drive most American tourists a bit nuts. You show up at a restaurant at 7:30 and you watch the band set up.

Which is precisely what happened tonight. As we sat there eating we began to hear the most gorgeous strains form a violin I've even heard in person. Now I've had many a subscription to the NSO in Washington but this was something other-worldly. As more of the musicians began to go through their sound checks--the accordian, the piano, the bass--we realized that they were preparing for a concert in the adjacent property, a courtyard belonging to the Greek Ministry of Culture. The Athens Festival is going on and slowly it all started to make sense: there would be a recital this evening, but a recital of what? We checked the doorway and sure enough--and bizarrely enough--it would be a concert of tango music. In Greece. Go figure.

So we stalled and stalled through our diner, trying to drag things out so that we could still be there by the 9:30 concert time. We had Alexandra with us and she was already dozing off in her stroller. Could we take a sleeping child in a stroller to a concert? Would she wake up?

The more we heard the musicians rehearse the more we realized we had no choice. We had to go. So, with Alexandra fast asleep, we slid into the last two chairs and were treated to a group of world-class musicians playing these elctrifying tangos, one after the other. I have not the slightest reference point for tango music, so I was really surprised at how avaante-garde and modern it was. It sounded like something Stavinsky would have felt comfortable writing. Just incredible.

Anyway, Greece is beautiful. It's hot as Hades, though not as bad as we were expecting. I took Alexandra up to the Acropolis this morning--she pretty much didn't notice the large temple with columns behind her and was content to pick wildflowers growing out of the rocks. But that was fine, she's only four. At this point it was just a photo op for dad.

Last night Maya's family took us out for a great dinner, right at the base of the Acropolis. As you can see from the first image, there aren't a lot of restaurant settings in the world more spectacular than this one. All through the meal we could hear the strains of music (do you detect a common refrain forming?) wafting out of the nearby Odeion of Herodes Atticus, the Roman theater that sits at the base of the Acropolis.

And as long as we're on this whole music thing tonight, I can't avoid my favorite musician in all of Athens. Well, he's not really a musician. He's an organ grinder, actually, a particular type of street performer that disappeared from American streets decades upon decades ago. There aren't too many in Athens either. This particular man is well into his eighties and his voice makes a sound not unlike a rusty door being pried open with a crowbar. He pushes a very heavy cart up Ermou Street, Athens' big commercial avenue, all the while cranking this ancient organ. It's a sight one just doesn't see in a modern world. Every time we come to Athens we look for him, if only to give him some change and feel luck to have seen him.

Well, I probably should quit while I'm ahead here. It's quite late in Athens and we have to drive to Vouliagmeni tomorrow for the wedding. Though I'm quite at home in this digital world we live in, I still find it remarkable that I can do things like blog from my hotel room in Plaka. Way cool.

Yiasas!





Matt