My Chair-y Amour

I owe the "Party in Pangrati" audience (of like 4 people) an apology. I thought I had long ago posted about the ugliest chairs in the world, but no, I was skimming through my archives and there's nothing. So, as my penultimate blog post from Athens, I present to you the chairs that used--used!--to grace our living room:

Real beauts, aren't they? Too bad they were mercilessly snatched from us in the dark of a Friday night.














I bet you're wondering how we acquired these Art Deco(?) masterpieces to begin with. Well, it all goes back to Mr. Phaidon, the guy who is not our landlord but who brokered the high-stakes deal between Eph and I and our loco landlady, Evgenia. She thought that, since the apartment was, in fact, listed as being "furnished," she would provide somplace for us to sit in the living room. So, after we had signed the lease and all that, Mr. Phaidon came over with these two treasures that Evgenia had apparently paid him for. I don't know how to describe the look on my face when he plunked them down in the middle of the living room, other than to use the words, "abject horror." Seriously, look at the things. They're terrible. Here's a detail shot of the mother-of-pearl inlay that, at this point, is hanging on by a very thin thread:

Awesome. Even better is the fact that, according to Phaidon, these babies cost 400 euros. Money well spent, guys, money well spent.














Scroll ahead nine months. One fine spring day, Eph answers a call from Evgenia. She tells him, "If Mr. Phaidon comes over, do not let him in the apartment. Don't even talk to him. Lock the balcony doors!" Now, was there an explanation of why Mr. Phaidon had suddenly turned evil? No. Just, "Lock the balcony doors," which is absurd in its own right because Phaidon is a little chubby and the mere thought of him hauling himself up and over our first floor balcony railing is a little coo-coo. But, we noted her warning duly and made a solemn vow not to let him in.

A few days later, however, everyone's worse nightmare came true, because as I was making breakfast one morning, I heard, "Hello! Helloooooooo!" coming from out in the street. Sure enough, there stood Mr. Phaidon, trying to look friendly. "Can I come and talk to you?" he asked. "No," I told him. "Evgenia said not to let you in." Immediately, he was pretty miffed, and said, "She is not right in the head! She is crazy! I do not even have a truck to take the chairs!!" I was about to respond, but he shushed me, said, "Wait a minute," and started dialing a number on his cellphone. Clearly, he was speaking to Evgenia, and they argued for a good five minutes while I waited for him. Without a word, he drove away.

Another week passed, and as we were on our Methana trip with Evil Phil, we received several urgent messages from both Phaidon and Evgenia. I called Evgenia, and she said only, "Give to Mr. Phaidon the chairs." Baffled, I then talked to Phaidon, who insisted on coming to get them the very next evening.

So, assisted by a totally random Asian guy, Phaidon came at the convenient hour of 10:00 on a Friday night to get the chairs. "Evgenia," said Phaidon, "She is crazy. I not have problem with her. I fight with her sister. But now we all have perfect relationship." He then leaned in and gave us a conspiritorial smile, saying, "They are both a little crazy." And with that, he left us. Laughing on the outside, crying on the inside, we settled on to the horrifically uncomfortable couch which would be the only place to sit for the next month.

We have subsequently learned two key things: Evgenia is, in fact, crazy, and she and her sister are totally broke. After a little time in the hospital with, her words, "psychological problems," Evgenia is now out and "feeling better." Which is obviously good, since she is a sweet woman. Nuts, but sweet. We went to visit her yesterday at the apartment she now lives in, and clearly she and her sister are living hand to mouth. Her sister finally decided to ask Phaidon for the 400 euros back from the chairs, and he then demanded that the chairs be returned.

In closing, let me remind you of the origin of the controversy:


















I am so ready to go back to the States.