And of course, now I know how the Post found my last, err, post.
Well, I’m going through an “I should be involved in more things” breakthrough, so I’m trying to actually leave Dupont Circle. It doesn’t happen often, but today, I ventured out. Um. To the Greek Embassy.
They were having a lecture and unveiling of the new Acropolis museum. Since I was just in Athens and the museum was closed – even though I breathed really hard on the glass doors and whined, “But I paid and it says on my ticket that the museum is included,” I decided to check it out. Truth be told, I’d much rather walk the 7 or so blocks to the Embassy than fly 10 hours back to Athens.
I mistakenly and naively thought I would be one of three people there. I was wrong. Holy Baklava Batman, it was standing room only, seriously. I told my parents earlier in the day that I was going over there and they were like, “DRESS NICE!” which translates into, “MAYBE YOU’LL FIND A GREEK HUSBAND.” I, of course, was late, and ended up taking a seat close to the back. From where I was sitting, it was less an exhibit on the Acropolis (which I couldn’t see quite well) and more an exhibit on really bad fashion (which I could see…all too well.) I also wanted to pose a question to the group: Am I the only one here who has washed my hair today? Just curious! I later discovered that it was because I was sitting near the archeological student contingent from the nearby universities. Whoo. Thank goodness they weren’t Greeks or I would have been running my own exhibit next week at the Embassy on personal grooming.
Anyway, the undercurrent of the evening was not that that this beautiful museum is now open in Athens, but that they are holding spaces open in the exhibit areas for the marbles that the Brits stole. In the very early 1800’s, Lord Elgin made it his business to dismantle parts of the Parthenon and take them back to London, where they now sit in the British Museum. (Someone even drew an interpretation of a guy climbing the Parthenon and chipping away at the stone.)
The Brits refuse to return them, stating stupid reasons like, “They belong here where all the world can enjoy them.” Part of the exhibit showed how they have half of the frescoes, and need the other halves which are, again, in FUCKING LONDON! God damned Brits! Give us back our MARBLES!!! (That was the cry of the evening and I quickly jumped on that bandwagon.) How would the Brits like it if we stole some of their non-rotten teeth and took them off to Athens? Huh? Oh, wait, maybe teeth was a bad example. Brits don’t have those.
Anyway, I joined their bandwagon. There’s nothing I love more than Greeks who hold a grudge.