An information board said there was a disabled lift, and I had set my mind on that

I don’t notice much of the tumors in my kidney and lung, but because of the chemotherapy and the medicines I can no longer cycle, climb stairs and climb mountains. Then I get short of breath and dizzy. So at the bottom of the Acropolis we faced a challenge.

We were on vacation in Athens and ignoring the Acropolis wasn’t an option – if only because our hotel was pretty much on top of the famous hill. It advertised with the phrase: ‘Overlooking the Acropolis’, which was a shame because almost all of Athens offers a view of the Acropolis. No escape.

So early in the morning, to beat the heat and crowds, we joined the checkout line. An information board said there was a lift for the disabled, and I had set my mind on that. I asked the cashier if I could get a ticket for that elevator.

‘You have disability passport?’
‘No.’
‘What do you have?’
“Lung cancer.”
‘WHAT?’
“LUNG CANCER.”

There followed an anything but understanding look and the announcement that I had to go upstairs and talk to the manager of the elevator.

That ‘upper’ alarmed me a bit, but a host reassured me: it was only a ten minute walk and the real stair climbing would only start after that.

Twenty sweaty and rather shortness of breath minutes later we arrived at a barrier with a booth, in which a burly lady was staring straight ahead.

‘What do you want’, the lady inquired.
‘I would like to use the elevator for the disabled people.’
‘Do you have disability passport?’
‘No.’
‘What do you have?’
“Lung cancer.”
‘WHAT?’
“LUNG CANCER.”
‘You have certificate from doctor?’

I did. At least, I had a form signed by my GP with an explanation for the opiates in my hand luggage – completely in Dutch, so she would have to get that, I hoped.

She glanced at the form, said slightly mockingly: ‘Hmm, Amsterdam…’ and opened the barrier.
“You can walk?”
It was still a steep climb to the elevator, which I completed slowly.
At the elevator she said, “You have to wear mouth caps.”
“Oh sorry, we didn’t bring them.”
‘You didn’t bring mouth caps? How is that possible? You have to wear mouth caps!’

Shaking her head, she nevertheless opened the elevator door, let us and herself in and pushed the button to the top floor: the one on which the Parthenon is displayed. It was the steepest elevator ever, with a spectacular view of Athens.

My traveling companion has a fear of heights, so he was singing loudly and staring at the mountain, while the lady went on about the mouth caps: completely incomprehensible that we didn’t have them with us, didn’t we know that they were also mandatory on public transport?

We were very happy to be upstairs. The Acropolis was beautiful.