A Day in Athens...

Ah, Athens, the birthplace of democracy. Since our flights in and out of Crete included stops in Athens, and since we’d never been there, scheduling a couple of days in the city felt like a no-brainer.

As luck would have it, we arrived on the first day of a 48-hour taxi strike. No problema, we scheduled an Uber. The app said our ride was 10 minutes away, 20 minutes away, 30 minutes… You get the idea. Uber was on strike too, or so was the assertion of a madman who claimed to be an Uber driver (liar, liar…). So, after a harrowing (and exceedingly expensive) ride, we, along with a lovely Canadian couple, arrived at our destinations in downtown Athens, thankfully alive. Phew!

After a summer of reading Greek mythology, I was excited about a tour I’d booked ahead for the next morning—a 4-hour mythology-themed walking tour of Athens and the Acropolis.

We got settled and headed to a taverna for dinner, where I had a delicious lamb souvlaki that, for reasons I didn’t yet understand, I could only manage a couple of bites of. Ignoring that little clue, we headed to the Acropolis, just for a nighttime view.

Greg: Where do you want to go next?
Me: Our apartment. Fast.
Greg: Is something wrong?
Me: groan

And that was my second harrowing journey of the day. Fortunately, I managed to forego the trash cans and bushes I had scouted along the way. All that night, I told myself I’d be better in the morning. I was going on that tour…

Spoiler alert: we did not go on the tour.

In the morning, Greg ventured out to find me a bottle of Coke. Then, not feeling so great himself, he spent the rest of the day in bed. And that is how two days in Athens became one.

Thankfully, the next morning, we were ready to make a day of it, which included entry tickets to the Acropolis for that evening (without the much-anticipated mythology tour).

With no plans for the day, we walked back toward the Acropolis to get our bearings.

Then, letting Google guide us to our next destination, the Plaka, I couldn’t help questioning my judgment for blindly following the app.

But, I have to admit, I’ve got a thing for graffiti, and it turned out to be a pretty cool route.

The Plaka… One of Athens’ oldest and most “picturesque” neighborhoods, I had those pages dog-eared in my guidebook. I couldn’t wait to see it for myself. I expected to love it. I really wanted to love it.

Yeah, no…not so much. Like just about every once-charming tourist destination, it is now truly touristy. Shop after shop was filled with cheap trinkets (most likely from China), along with all the olive oil and phallic bottle openers a person could possibly need.

To be fair, there were also a few really nice shops, not to mention a plethora of tavernas. And if you know me, you know that I can totally taverna with the best of them. (Yeah… not a verb, but it should be.)

The highlight of our Athens meandering came when we happened upon the changing of the guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier in Syntagma Square.

I mistakenly thought the changing of the guard only happened on Sundays, so when we headed over, I only expected to see the guards guarding as guards tend to do.

Fortunately for me (and for them), guards are relieved much more frequently than once a week—like every hour. I wasn’t entirely wrong, though. Sunday features a more elaborate ceremony, but this one was cool to watch, too!

After a late lunch at a sidewalk taverna and a quick rest in our apartment (still not feeling 100%), it was time to head to the Acropolis. For this outing, I took my big girl camera.

(All photos to this point taken on my iPhone 16)

Six in the evening, and still as hot as Hades, we joined a few hundred like-minded tourists and climbed up to the Acropolis.

Was I walking in the footsteps of Aristotle, Socrates, and Plato from thousands of years ago? I felt like I should have been thinking deeply intelligent thoughts.

Instead, I was picturing these highly esteemed philosophers in their togas—did they wear togas?—on this hot, dusty hill, high above the city, and wondering, why?

Why did they climb all the way up this hill where the sun is relentless, when the Plaka, which was undoubtedly not touristy back then (and had all those awesome tavernas), was in the city below? Now granted, the Parthenon and various temples weren’t in ruins back then, so there’s that.

And since inquiring minds needed to understand, when I got home, I did a little more research (I Googled it) and found an artist rendering of the area in ancient times. And…ahhh. It looked so much different. If the artist’s drawings are accurate, there might have even been a tree or two growing out of those rocks—not that they offered any shade.

I still think the Plaka would have been a more enjoyable place to hang out and wax poetic, but that’s just my philosophy.

Sorry… (not really)

Next up—I’m not sure. It’s always a crapshoot.

Until then, be well.

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