LEAVING OUR BAGS in the lobby, we went for breakfast in a nearby side street, to a small Greek-style deli offering dairy products, pita bread, and an ever-turning spit of roasting lamb for souvlaki. It was so early that the Greeks were still asleep, but in case any came walking by we chose a small table by the window, and ordered bread and coffee. The owner didn’t mind that we laid out some of our own food: Joy had summer sausage (acquired somewhere along the way) and I had a jar of Vegemite (I’d spent my childhood in Australia and never travel without a jar of Vegemite as a standby for spreading on bread in case the local food is inedible!) 

Joy wrote in a postcard to her friend Chazz, a musician friend who was housesitting for her: Dear Chazz, We’re in Athens and will fly on some little airplane to Egypt tonight, since we are having all sorts of problems trying to get to Israel. Today we are going to take in some ruins—some of them a thousand years before Christ. It’s awesome to think about it. I’m having a hard time finding you any Greek musical souvenir so you might have to settle for a regular souvenir …We’ve been having pretty nice weather—in the 60s during the day. I’m sure I’ve gained 10 lbs or more eating this wonderful Greek food. It’s difficult to take a shower here in Greece. More later. Love, Joy.

Next on the agenda was a long hike uphill to the Acropolis, first passing through some winding streets where I had lived for some time in 1979 in a three-story hippie haven called The Link. It was managed by a friend of Stefanos, who gave us our own room which I'd decorated with Greek posters and refurbished junk furniture as part of my “Greek adventure.” Peeking through a peephole in the gate, I could see that it had been remodeled into a splendid private residence, something I had always envisioned doing myself if I’d had a lot of money!

Just a few hundred feet from The Link we entered a gate admitting us to the confines of the Acropolis, a large hill with the Parthenon, amphitheaters and other remains of ancient Greece where excavations are always in progress. We clambered over the ruins, many of which had been dug up since I was there last. (I didn’t recall seeing many of these new digs before, but it could also be that I was now twenty years older and more observant!) 

After examining the ruins for a few hours, taking pictures and videotaping the panoramic views, we descended and exited through a different gate in search of the "Areopagus" where Paul preached “...under the shadow of the Acropolis."

The Hellenization of Christianity started in earnest on that eventful day when the Apostle Paul stood before the council of the Areopagus in Athens and told the Athenians about "the Unknown God." There, under the shadow of the Acropolis, this Roman citizen proclaimed to these Greeks his version of the new religion which had taken origin in the Jewish land of Galilee. [2071]

Finally we found it -- a tall hill with many people clamboring over it, and with steps built into it. (As I was videotaping it I slid and fell, and have footage of some topsy-turvy rocks!)

At the time Paul stood up in Athens preaching "Christ and Him Crucified," the Greeks were spiritually hungry; they were inquiring, interested, and actually looking for spiritual truth. Never forget that at first the Romans fought Christianity, while the Greeks embraced it, and that it was the Greeks who literally forced the Romans subsequently to accept this new religion, as then modified, as a part of Greek culture. [2071]

* * *

After stopping for lunch down below in an outdoor café, we walked through the Sunday flea market. Joy, ever on the lookout for unusual musical instruments for Chazz back home, bought a bouzouki. The market was packed with Greeks and tourists, every seat in every outdoor taverna taken. I was constantly amazed at how much more of Athens had been unearthed since I left. Was it always like this or was I just not paying attention before?

At four we picked up our luggage at the Adams Hotel, leaving our largest bag, full of superfluous items, behind in one of the storage rooms. This assured the owner that we would be back. Now we were each down to one backpack and were more mobile. It is remarkable how little one needs when traveling and how quickly an unneeded item becomes a dead weight!

At the airport we headed directly for the offices of Egyptair to buy our tickets for Cairo. The staff treated us like royalty and two uniformed men personally escorted us to the check-in counter where all went smoothly.

While waiting at the gate to board our plane, a middle-aged couple from India who had been sitting across from us approached us and asked if we knew about hotels in Cairo. We pointed to the one we’d picked out in our Lonely Planet book—Hotel Cosmopolitan, close to the Cairo Museum and in the center of everything—and as it sounded good to them also we agreed to share a limousine.  

Immediately upon landing in Cairo and collecting our bags, a swarm of Egyptian “tour guides/taxi drivers” approached us, offering to give us tours of the pyramids and the Sphinx, etc. The Indian man, Ramses, was willing to hear them all out and give them a chance, but I bulldozed through them all, emphatically shouting, “No! No!”

The limo ride was legitimate, costing us each around $3. The hotel was grand, a refurbished 80-year-old Victorian affair with TV and minibar, but at $50 per night it was over our budget.

On the way there, in the car, I had begun telling Ramses about the Urantia Book’s version of the story of India—the Sethite priests, the Andite and Indo-European migrations—and he seemed open to reading more. Within five minutes after checking into their room, they were knocking on our door. Ramses told us he was a higher caste Brahmin, an engineer working in Saudi Arabia but here on vacation.

Before he left I gave him my Urantia Book, pointing only to the passages dealing with the Indian racial mix and history.

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