I’m a planner. Whenever I travel, there’s an itinerary involved. I like to have an idea of where I’ll be going, what I’ll be doing, and how long it might take. I might do a bit of research to see what other travelers have said about the location, the best time to visit, where to purchase tickets, etc. One thing I do very little of, however, is look at many pictures of these locales. Despite all of my planning, I enjoy a bit of mystery. After all, discovering a place while you’re actually physically there is such a beautiful feast for the senses.
Athens is a city I remember reading about as a child. We all probably looked at that same photo of the Parthenon atop the Acropolis in our junior high school history books. But I quickly realized how very little I really knew about Athens. A bit of an architecture buff, I imagined it would resemble Rome–a vibrant city with amazing edifices surrounding ancient ruins. But thirty minutes after leaving Athens International Airport and arriving at the edge of the city center, instead of being wowed, I felt somewhat disappointed. “It’s kind of dingy!” is all I could think. It was like driving into a muted beige tapestry. And at the end of our trip when we returned from being among the pristine white houses dotting the island of Mykonos and the breathtakingly colorful beauty of Oia in Santorini, that dinginess appeared even more pronounced.
We stayed at very centrally located Hotel Ermou in the Plaka area, which is sandwiched between the Acropolis on one side and the National Garden and Panathenic (Olympic) Stadium on the other side. This area, which caters a bit more to tourism, is filled with a lot of the shopping and restaurants, and is more vibrant and colorful. But outside of this, the design of the city’s buildings seemed more utilitarian than artistic–as if they needed a way to fit as many people as possible into an expanding city, and gave little thought to aesthetics.
Aside from the National Garden and the greenery surrounding the seven hills of the city, there are not a lot of trees in Athens, which is especially noticeable when the temperature climbs into the nineties and you’d be willing to trade one of your children for even an ounce of shade. And here’s a word I haven’t had to use in a long time: graffiti! It’s all over the place, as if Athenians decided to revive the trend, or completely missed the boat on it in the eighties, and figured this was their time to catch up. Turn a corner and suddenly there’s a pile up of garbage bags, as if sanitation were on strike. This all prompted me to look into the more modern-day history of Athens, which quickly put things into perspective.
In the first fifty years of the twentieth century, Greece really went through it! There were two Balkan Wars, a Greek genocide–which sent Greek refugees fleeing to Athens from (what is now) Turkey, a Greco-Turkish war, German army occupation of Athens in War II, a Greek Civil War from 1946 to 1949, and a great rural migration into Athens starting in the 50’s. The treasury was pretty much depleted, so urban planning with a nod to beauty be damned. Houses were demolished and buildings quickly erected that could house the great influx of people.
Athens doesn’t seem to quite make sense. And I’m not just talking about the language, which needs its own separate blog. Streets are willy-nilly and seem to suddenly form out of nowhere, there’s congestion, there’s traffic, and there’s no seemingly orderly way of doing anything. Despite all of this, there’s something compelling about the city and its people. They’re both genuine, as if they’re communicating, “This is our reality. Deal with it or don’t. We’re not about to put a layer of lipstick on it for it to be more palatable to you.”
The Athenians don’t necessarily cater to tourism, but there is a warmth and openness to them. They know their city doesn’t have the romantic feel or aesthetic beauty of the aforementioned Rome, or Paris, or Prague, and they’re fine with that. They’re hard workers—many of whom toil in the service industry seven days a week. They’re self-deprecating, but at the same time proud. While on a tour of the city center (athens-free-tour.com), our amazing guide Persephone (We also came across a Zeus and a Hercules), who infected us with her love of Greek history, pointed out a statue of Lord Byron, and talked about his love for her country, writings on Greece, and his involvement in the Greek independence movement. “Unfortunately, he also seemed to have a love for his landlord’s twelve-year-old daughter,” she added. “And still we made a statue of him. But don’t judge us. We’re not saying it’s right, but we’re poor, so some things we just ignore.” The “poor” sentiment came up a few times while we were in Greece, but never in a “woe is me” way. They were just owning it, as if they knew they were the red-headed stepchildren of Europe, but were completely fine with in. “Hey, we’re poor, but we do whatever it takes to push on.” And fortunately, their economy is starting to rebound after some catastrophic years.
Our cheat sheet…A t-shirt we stumbled across in the Plaka area, in which the Greek equivalent of English words had been translated from the Greek Alphabet. Had they not been, the phrase “thank you” — which is “efcharisto” using the Roman alphabet, would have looked more like this…”ευχαριστώ.” Nope!
The Athenians seem to find pleasure in sharing stories of their history and their families and their daily lives. A simple “kalimera” or “kalispera” (good morning and good evening, respectively) would cause their faces to immediately light up. Attempting their difficult to speak and difficult to understand language seemed to communicate to them that their culture was being embraced. That small gesture meant they were being seen.
Like many great cities, Athens is a complete contradiction. But if you allow yourself to get past initial appearances, you find yourself being drawn in by an amazing city filled with a wealth of history, by proud yet warm people, by exquisite food, and by experiences that I know will last a lifetime.
With friends Tonya and Joy.
