Athens Reimagined [Part 3]

Most people would have made sure to visit the Acropolis on their travels to Athens. I was interested in something a little more off-beat, even though it would mean passing through the equally overtouristed heart of Plaka (the Old Town) to get there.

The Museum of Greek Folk Musical Instruments turned out to be a dark, cosy, cavernous space. Evoking not just the sounds but the ornamental patterns and textiles of wartime Greece, it was fun to explore its three storeys. My gaze sometimes rested on a traditional grey stone arch that was integrated into the wall as I listened to stirring musical tracks. Elsewhere on the walls were large photos, mostly of elderly men playing the eponymous instruments. I searched for and found the odd image of a woman, but the ratio was disproportionate enough to make me think that the Greek patriarchy was one of Europe's most persistent.   

Migrating to the uppermost floor, there was something cheery and comforting about the variety of wooden designs among the collection of instruments. They were decorated in ways both intricate and stark, mostly using white markings. Knowing they were made for emotional resonance and cultural enrichment made me more appreciative of their beauty. The quirkiest made my day.  

After much lingering it was time to plunge back into the maze of Plaka, and indulge my love for the islands by ascending to Anafiotika. This singular neighbourhood was a tiny collection of whitewashed buildings in the style of the residents' former lodgings on Anafi. While the architecture looked like it had seen fresher years, it had an ageing charm which sweeping views of Athens did nothing to diminish. I enjoyed the white and grey staircases, blue doors and generous distribution of potted plants gracing the micro-suburb. A small church and abundant greenery added atmosphere, as did a burst of graffiti, antifa and otherwise. (1312 in Athens, also.)

I noticed that the locals of Anafiotika had put up signs encouraging visitors to be mindful of their noise levels, and respectful of the fact that they were walking through real homes. A poster showcasing stunning views of Anafi suggested a yearning for the land long left behind. Those views had me making a mental note to return to the Greek islands. They could keep me busy for quite a while, when the time was right...     

Descending to Plaka, I gravitated towards a yoghurt dessert shop, treating myself to a cup of their creamy produce with figs on top. My mind wandered to the day before, when I had first set foot in the narrow streets of the Old Town and been enveloped by a dreamy, yellow glow emanating from the buildings. Being here in late September was not sufficiently off-season to escape the crowds, but I had enjoyed people watching over gyros, bargaining for shiny gifts, and marveling over various art galleries.   

After an assortment of pleasurable experiences in Athens, I would be leaving for Sofia, Bulgaria tomorrow.

Athens Reimagined [Part 2]

At the outset of my second full day in Athens I identified the Basil and Elise Goulandris Foundation as the place to be. They gave me free admission on account of my special status in Australia - unexpected, but welcome. A collection of modern art characterised by bold lines and dramatic colour combinations unfolded. I noticed some familiar styles, and indeed the labels read Kandinsky, Picasso and Braque. Video dedicated to Van Gogh refreshed my memory on the extent of his imagination, and the depths of his despair. At the topmost level, a number of the local Greeks showed off the red in their palette. I chatted with a security guard about women's solo travel, happy to share my enthusiasm for taking off (and not waiting for a travel partner to do so).

It was a shiny space housing dynamic works, but the Foundation was not as big as I imagined it to be. I was thankful for the Orthodox church next door which gave me something pretty to look at while I pondered the day ahead. Its edifice was the colour of lemon meringue cake, complete with white arches and pillars. Unfortunately there were renovations inside, but the exterior showed three large images of saintly men in red, pink, green and white robes, so I lingered with my camera. 

Still no idea what to do next, I fell back on Rolf Potts' time-tested advice: "Walk, until the day becomes interesting." Most of the traffic on the street was heading towards the main road, so I decided this was the direction for me. Once there I noticed signs for Syntagma Square and Plaka, and walked in that general direction until I came across an park-like area. A stylish grey building beckoned up some flights of stairs, so I ascended awhile and was rewarded with pleasant views of Athens. I couldn’t figure out what the building was for, but followed a sandy path around it, and eventually emerged into a courtyard. The single-storey Museum of Byzantine and Christian Art was now surrounding me on three sides. I considered going in, but speculated I could find something more interesting. (This was Athens, after all: history is around every corner.)

The courtyard was home to several species of charming flowers, and while I was photographing a creeping vine with an offshoot of magenta blooms, a ginger-and-white cat wandered by. I gave it my attention and it seemed to like that, jumping up on an upturned map of the complex near me and meowing expectantly. My new muse twirled for the camera daintily before bouncing off. 

Crossing a busy road, my gaze fell on a pale, majestic-looking building which looked accessible to the public - a pedestrian had just walked through its gates. Drawn to the architecture, I discovered that this was the Museum of Cycladic Art, and felt a rush of gratitude and excitement. I felt like I had hit the jackpot because one of the most beautiful environments I had ever been in, Santorini, was located within the Cycladic islands. Not only was there a large collection of well-preserved artefacts (including vases) which would remind me of my time there, but they were curated in cutting-edge displays. 

I learned a lot about the Cycladic way of life over many dynasties, and marveled over pearlescent drinking vessels, charismatic sculptures and mysterious figurines. Rites of passage such as marriage and death were explored in some detail, including through video installation. Settlements, some thriving through trade, some not so prosperous, rose and fell. The museum had a steady flow of customers, but I often had displays to myself. 

I was lagging by the fourth floor, though, still sleep deprived and a little disoriented. As enjoyable as the experience was, I tumbled into the taxi ‘home’ with some relief, happy to call it a day.

[More Athenian adventures in the next post]

Athens Reimagined [Part 1]

When I first stepped into Athens in 2003 I was already on my way somewhere else - the islands. My first impression of the capital was an uncomfortable level of air pollution, and the suburb in which my hotel was located struck me as gritty and unloved. By the time I saw homophobic graffiti scrawled on a nearby wall, I was happy to leave.

Fast forward to 2022, and a few things saw me give the Greek city a second chance. Firstly, I knew that I would find an abundance of historic sights, good food, and a certain amount of familiarity in the locals (Australia has plenty of Greek immigrants, and Bulgaria is just to the north). Secondly, Scoot Airlines made it one of its two European entry-points from their Singaporean hub, along with Berlin. I'd already experienced two weeks of slow travel in the German capital, and while it was a fine place, I was ready for something new. Furthermore, Athens being tucked into the corner of Europe closest to Australia would make my flight shorter, thereby decreasing my carbon footprint (and increasing my travel comfort). 

The first thing that really struck me about Athens this time around was the friendliness of the staff in the Ibis hotel I was staying. One of them noticed my exhaustion and jetlag and decided to treat me to the Earl Grey tea I was interested in. I learned quickly that Greek hospitality was in a category of its own, perhaps comparable with Thai. 

Awaking to my second day of Athens, I found out from the reception that all public transport workers were striking for the day, and decided to walk to my destination, the National Archeological Museum. This turned out to be a fascinating journey, taking me from a commonplace suburban road to a hip neighbourhood of shops and cafes perched upon on a hill, upwards further through an oval park which housed a historic ruin, and onto a glitzy thoroughfare with tall buildings and an urban buzz. The sleek, shiny surroundings (think shops with floor-to-ceiling glass edifices) eventually culminated in a vivacious place called Syntagma Square, where many high-profile businesses, government agencies, shops, cafes and restaurants lived, and my museum made an appearance shortly after that. 

I stopped every so often to ask for directions, and most of the locals took their time in making sure I understood their advice. Observing images of the Greek gods incorporated into ads for everything from healthcare to coffee had me reaching for my camera. It was while pausing to hydrate in a chic emerald-and-black cafe that I was waited on by a fluorescent-haired woman who pointed out that there were in fact two archeological museums in the area. I asked her to direct me to the biggest of the two, but she seemed unsure as to how I could proceed. 

Back on my feet, a food vendor who looked in his fifties beamed at my inquisitive gaze, and a convenience store owner smiled as he helped me navigate Google Maps. Stylishly dressed women with dye jobs floated around on the pock-marked pavement. They carried their lips in a way that suggested resignation to sexual objectification. There were signs of other kinds of trouble too: every few hundred metres sat a human in some state of distress, extending a sign or container, waiting for infrequently given donations. My heart went out to a particular woman with a hijab - she and her toddler looked like they had been stuck on the streets for some time. I found a patisserie nearby where I tried a hazelnut torte and broke up my large notes, then gave her 5 euro. 

Thinking about race relations in Greece takes me back to the taxi driver I encountered at the airport. He explained that going to a restaurant or cafe was a social affair - the idea was to make a new friend with the person at the table next to you. That was all very well, but he went on to express prejudice against Chinese people, whom he claimed were too materialistic. I offered an alternate viewpoint which he wasn't sympathetic to, got disappointed, then lost interest in the conversation. But I had already given him the details of my background, so he spent the next ten minutes describing his incredulity over the prices in Bulgaria being a fraction of those in Greece. This racist and ethnocentric welcome to Greece is, sadly, an attitude I consider predictable in Europe. 

Anyway, by the time I made it to the National Archeological Museum I was thanking the striking workers for the chance to watch the neighbourhoods morph into each other. And the attraction itself was an eye-opening experience, with artefacts in all forms, shapes and sizes. My favourite section was the stunningly well-preserved ancient vases. I loved the ones depicting women, animals, fruit and musical instruments in particular. I took photos, then spent a bit of time with each vase that stood out to me, trying to appreciate them from different perspectives and get caught up in their narratives.

Many hours later I started to walk back to the Ibis, but here a problem presented itself: a cool September rain. By the time I decided that I was too soaked not to catch a taxi the remainder of the way, I had met with a throat infection. Still, I was happy at how the day was going, and, as my new taxi driver spoke in soulful, melodic tones to a friend, I learned that the Greek language could be quite beautiful. 

[More on Athens in the next post...]