My son and I took what could be considered a trip, rather than a vacation - sixteen days in Greece. He's fourteen, beginning to be a man, old enough to haul the very heavy suitcase with the very broken handle, old enough to read a (paper) map and old enough for my uncensored rants while circling the traffic-choked mazes of ancient city streets. So narrow were they I thought of greasing the fenders. We ate. Me as adventurously as possible, him not so much, but admirably for a somewhat cautious archetypical teenage American boy. I plied him with creamy gelato, dense and sour frozen Greek yogurt and icy drinks in lurid colors, sometimes three times a day. It was hot there day and night.