Twist and Shout...because you hurt your ankle...Monday, July 6th.

I was sad to see almost everyone else take off this morning.  Well, I guess I didn't really "see" them take off.  After all, a lot of them had to be on the bus at 3:45am.  So, I mean "see" in the not-so-literal sense of the word...but I bet you figured that out already.  You clever person, you!

There were a few of us at the hotel so it was great being able to have one last breakfast with people from the writing program.  Around noon, I left the Emmantina in Glyfada (suburb of Athens where we stayed with the group) and headed back to my plush hotel in Athens.

Originally, all their rooms had been sold out.  However, thanks to the Greek financial crisis taking place right outside the hotel, some rooms opened up.  Woohoo!  I was able to get an inner courtyard room in the hotel.  When I arrived, the reception lady told me that my room was ready but that I needed to go to the Reception Room on the Butler level to check in.  I was asked to have a seat at an elegant desk and a couple of tall, dark and handsome twenty-something men were asking if I needed anything.  Somehow I managed to get out "water" and I drank it all as I tried to figure out what I was doing on a floor with butlers.    What do I do with a butler?  Should I put on my best outfit to stay on this floor?  Should I fake a British accent (which I am horrible at) to at least pretend that I am more sophisticated than I really am?  Are the butlers judging me?  So much pressure.  Butler George helped me to my room and gave me his business card in case I needed to contact him.



After my bags arrived in the room (much faster than my first non-butler floor visit a couple of weeks ago), I set off to the Starbucks that I knew was nearby.  Along the way, I found where the Princess Cruise lines drop off all their tours and decided to check out the shops that they felt were worthy of their customers.  The main one was a larger tourist shop and I found a few things I had wanted.  When my arms started getting full, I noticed some shopping baskets and leaned over to place my items in them.

Did I trip on the steep stairs of the Acropolis?  No.
Did I tumble down the hill at the Temple of Poseidon?  No.
Did I fall during the many days on a hillside resort in Crete?  No.
Did I twist my ankle on a 4-inch step inside a tourist shop in Athens?  Yep.

A couple of people stopped to make sure I was alright.  One older guy complimented me on making sure the olive oil and other stuff in my hands made it into the basket as I was falling.  (I actually had tried to do that too so I was glad someone gave me credit for being successful.)

After the employees gave me somewhere to sit and some water (Why does a twisted ankle make you feel so icky???), I purchased what was in my bag and then hobbled the rest of the way to Starbucks (priorities, you know.)  I figured I'd better get my Frappuccino before my ankled got too stiff to want to move at all.  I rested for a bit then somehow made it back to my hotel room.  I didn't see any ankle braces inside the pharmacy stores but I didn't ask.

I treated myself to room service then wondered if I would need to have Butler George do all the things I was hoping to do myself.  Could George get the gifts for others I had wanted to purchase?  Could George hunt down an ankle bandage for me?  Could George find me ice?  I did some internet searches on what hotel butlers could do and it sounded like those might all be possibilities.  However I was relieved to wake up the next morning and, although still puffy and sore, I was able to walk and shop without needing George.  ;)