I didn’t know what to expect. Maybe Tour buses. Diesel fumes. Crowds. Heat and chaos and noise. Stall merchants hawking cheap trinkets. I’d prepared myself for the worst, even while harboring the dreams of my youth. Athena, tall and stately and majestic. Olive trees and hills, Pan lurking playfully in the distance. Dryads and Naiads, the ghosts of Plato and Socrates wandering ancient streets mumbling just beyond my ability to hear, though I was, and am, a student longing to understand. Origins. My history as a daughter of Western civilization.
Nothing I experienced met any of my expectations.
Instead, Athens is a contemporary city. The architecture is dated. The people are warm. Orange trees line streets and there are cats everywhere. Towering above the city, stark and white, is the Acropolis. It’s ruins are magnificent standing as testament, reminder, and reassurance.
In the morning, sun bright in a deep blue sky, and at night lit above a city twinkling with lights, they whisper, “This, too, shall pass. Everything that rises will fall. Everything born shall die. And yet…”
They remind us that for all that falls, all the fails, all that hurts and frightens and worries, something beautiful, important, and worthwhile perseveres.
The people echoed this. They patted our shoulders. Smiled generously. Laughed at us a little. “Pay attention to your family,” they said. “Pay attention to your home.” They treated us like nervous teenagers entering the world as adults for the first time. And we laughed at ourselves with them while we reveled in their history, culture, food, and humor.
Our visit was enhanced by our stay at Apeiron Athena Residences. Located near the Acropolis and other nearby attractions, it was ideal and more than we expected. In the spacious apartment tiled in white marble, two balconies overlooked the city and allowed a cross breeze to cool the space day and night. The staff spent considerable time talking with us, sharing stories and lives, and giving excellent recommendations. We wouldn’t have discovered Plaka or Psiri without them. Both neighborhoods were worth visiting. Though close to each other, they’re surprisingly different.
Plaka is an old neighborhood and we wandered aimlessly. Up a cobblestone street. Yellow houses adorned with bougainvillea, orange trees, and more cats. Finally, famished, we discovered Ella. This restaurant (near Syntagma) served us the best gyro and dolmadakia we’ve ever eaten. Paired with a lovely local wine and conversation with a Greek family at the neighboring table, it was a meal to remember.
Psiri is also an old neighborhood with windy streets and the weight of history, but it’s a hub for nightlife and the graffiti is worth seeing. It’s everywhere, well done, and in striking contrast to the buildings it animates.
Two days in Athens was probably not enough for some. It was enough for me.
