Upward moves are Greek to me

When you hit a milestone like a 40th wedding anniversary, you tend to turn everything you do for weeks before and after the actual date into a commemorative event.

So the overseas trip we took in May and the three-day getaway this week to a lake we've never heard of in south-central Kentucky near Mammoth Cave National Park both come under the heading "40th Anniversary Big Deals."

The May trip, a month before the actual anniversary, was to Greece. My wife, for as long as she can remember, has wanted to see the ancient wonders of Greece. So, by gum, we went.

One morning this week, my wife said, "Why haven't you written a column about our trip to Greece?" So, by gum, I have. See how we've stayed married so long?

For those of you who have been paying attention, you know that I have signed up for a tour of duty with one of the local fitness centers, which is a cross between boot camp and hell week -- minus the parties. And, if you are a stickler for detail, you know that I have made a lifelong enemy of the Death Machine, otherwise known as a step mill, which forces you to go up a three-step escalator perpetually attempting to take the unsuspecting down to the netherworld.

Why anyone thought it was a good idea to invent such a malicious machine is beyond me, since perfectly good stairs (and escalators) exist in abundance all around us.

And then there's Greece. I can sum up the cradle of democracy in two words: Step. Mill.

Every single ancient wonder of Greece is up. Literally. And to see all the good bits, you have to climb in three stages: Up. Higher. You're still not there.

A young guide who accompanied us on several of our forays into remote parts of the Greek mainland turned 24 while we were there, and he confessed that he wasn't as fit as he thought. The smoking breaks he took every time I stopped to suck air into my aching lungs probably didn't help him on that score. Everyone in Greece smokes. I think it's a law, just like every male born in Greece has to serve in the military.

Here are some other quick observations:

Greece is an arid country that irrigates heavily to grow olives and other crops. Fresh vegetables served in restaurants are to die for. The tomatoes in May were vine-ripened and delicious. I can't begin to count how many Greek salads (no lettuce in sight) my wife and I enjoyed while we were there.

Athens is no Paris. The Greek capital has been transformed by a major population influx in recent decades. The population of Greece (mainland and hundreds of islands) is about 10 million. Half of them live in Athens. To provide housing, most of the ancient city has been leveled to make way for four- and five-story apartment buildings, all of which appear to have been designed by a Soviet architect bent on punishing the Greeks forever.

Amidst the apartment buildings that spread as far as the eye can see in any direction are rock islands of antiquity that jut up toward the clouds. It was on these prominent high spots that the ancient Greeks built their remarkable temples. Which is why you have to go up. Always.

Lunch on a boat trip to three of the islands found us seated with an ambassador from the Philippines to the Asian Development Bank and her daughter along with a finance minister who oversees the stock market in Brazil. They could survive on their command of English. We would perish if our lives depended on Tagalog, Spanish or Portuguese. It's that way around the world.

Finally, there's something goose-pimply about standing where St. Paul preached. Go see for yourself. It's worth it.

R. Joe Sullivan is the editor of the Southeast Missourian.