Action-Man, 24 June, Athens, Greece

Athens improved everything for the 2004 Olympics. Matthew Gutman, an Israeli correspondant for USA-Today, told me that Athen's metro is one of the best in Europe. Its signage is clear, escalators and stairs and platforms all tidy. Drew said that the stations in Paris are more beautiful. In the city, there are new hotels and clean squares. Many roads are freshly paved, and they built a new city tram and a scintillating international airport. I hope that it all lasts and keeps its luster.

Drew and I spent the afternoon on the sunny island of Egina between Athens and Peloponnesus. Our hydrofoil docked and as we began walking, much to our joy, we found a quiet beach with blue seats and white umbrellas. The water was salty, but open eyes under the clear, warm water revealed smooth rocks and sand. Sweetly situated and free! But no sooner had we sat down than they slapped down a six-euro charge. Immediately Drew resolved to escape and not pay.

So I took my shoes and Drew's books in my hands and started walking down a dirt path away from the beach. The guys at the counter were busy talking to a man on a moped, so Drew followed lightly, his shoeless feet pattering on the sand behind me. I saw a path up a hill to my right and broke for it. The way was steep and I felt small pricks on my feet from thorny things. "After them, or we'll have no man-pies!" the giants bellowed as Jill and Eustace and Puddleglum fled in The Silver Chair. I raced through trees bearing summer fruits and sparse plants that looked like tumbleweeds to the highway above.

It is the middle of the night in the Athens airport. We cut it close coming here tonight. We left our beloved hotel in Metaxourghio at 11:30 and caught the red line in Syntagma. The doors of the metro cars shut like a guillotine. We went east to Doukissis Plakentias, but the metro closed at midnight. We were still 30 kilometers from the airport, so we caught a taxi. He gave us a break on the price, and shook our hands at the curb.

Sam

Action-Man, 23 June, Egina Island, Greece

Sam and I are sunburnt. Not scorched, but ruddied up a bit. We spent much of the day by the Aegean shore. It was into this sea that (in myth) King Aegeus threw himself when ships returned to him with the sign that his son was killed by the minotaur.

Sam reminds me of Fritz in The Swiss Family Robinson. He plunges into the turqoise water with blonde hair and pants rolled to his knees. All he needs is a large belt buckle and a machete. We wrestle in the ocean.

We've escaped the summer crowds here on the island of Egina, south of Athens. A hydrofoil bore us here after a morning on the Acropolis. There, tour groups swarmed as we ate bread and cheese saved from the hostel breakfast.

It's been inspiring to walk in the steps of the great men of Greece. The marvelous light and food clear the mind. I see how it spawned such pure and rational thinkers; I wish I could emulate them. Plato was much more moral than many Christians. He had an unswerving concept of truth. Why can't the followers of Christ have such resolve more often? I know such Christians exist, but much of the world sees only hypocrites within the church. We need to be modern day martyrs for the truth.

Drew

Action-Man, 23 June, on a ferry in Greek water

Two days ago, we entered Athens on a train from Corinth. An Albanian man in the next seat said that Athens is a concrete jungle, and it is. He also strongly urged us to eat a Greek food, called suvlaki. So after we settled in Hotel Neos Olympos, we set out. Everywhere we asked, friendly Athenians (in general, Greeks speak better English than Italians) pointed us towards suvlaki. We searched Syntagma square and walked to Monastiraki, which is below the Acropolis. It was like pursuing the white stag of Narnia. Finally, at Thanassis grill, we found it. Suvlaki is sausage kebab, and is served with tomatoes, peppers and cucumbers with sprinkled red pepper in a grilled pita. For maximum taste, we dipped our three wraps into a zazigy, which is cool yogurt with onions and cucumber.

Tonight was our last meal in Europe. At a seaside tavern, on the island of Egina, Drew ate sea bass and tuna salad. I ate spaghetti and octopus. We smeared our bread in oil and vinegar and washed it down with wine. We will have an ice-cream cone at the soft-serve place when we get back. We have had days of fasting and hunger and lack. Today was a day of plenty. It is feast or famine on this trip.

Our ferry back to Pireaus is cool inside. The lounge has light green carpet and green and yellow sofas. A soccer match plays on the TVs. The guys next to us talk loudly in Greek and are eating a bowl of pistachio nuts. A bar is in the middle, and the whole ferry is nicer than any other ferry so far. Just now I felt dizzy, so I went on deck for a breath of fresh air. The bosun in the bridge said that we were going 16 kilometers per hour. On starboard side a flock of seagulls flew with the ferry. I saw dozens of them--their orange feet tucked closely to their soft, white bellies, their beaks twitching, bodies floating, upheld by healthy, outstretched wings.

"Three things are too wonderful for me; four I do not understand: the way of an eagle in the sky, the way of a serpent on a rock, the way of a ship on the high seas, and the way of a man with a virgin" (Proverbs 30: 18, 19).

Sam