Don't Let the Goats Eat Your Shoes

We’re in Athens now, at the Ionis Hotel. It’s a nice place in a commercial neighborhood right off the metro. Not to expensive, but cheap enough to make it much more attractive than the hostels.
Our Easyjet puddle-jumper wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Sure, we had to walk out across the blacktop to board it, and maybe most of the crew looked like they were camp councilors, but we got a good price. Even if we did have to sit on the back of the air-bus.
It was hard leaving Regensburg behind again. That city’s gotten to be really cozy for us both, and it’s nice having friends to be around again.
It sounds like we’re going all over tomorrow in an attempt to get adjusted to this city. Kyser, one of my suitemates’ friends who also happens to be half Greek, gave us a little strange advice before setting out. (1) “Get a guide.” We’re ignoring that one. We have the guidebook, and we don’t have the money for a guide. (2) “Go see Mt. Olympus. Go up it if you can.” We can’t, but we are going to climb a little of it. (3) “Don’t let the goats eat your shoes.”
Really, how can you respond to that one?