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Published: March 2nd 2023
Reality is created by the mind, we can change our reality by changing our mind… ~ Plato, Greek Philosopher
HE SAID... Today we were travelling southeast from Delphi to
Athens.
After returning from a brisk walk and visit to the Sanctuary of Athena Pronaia in the early morning, we grabbed a quick cup of tea from the downstairs breakfast room at Hotel Varonos, then prepared our packs for the three-hour road trip to Athens on a public bus.
As we waited at Delphi’s bus interchange, I breathed in the extraordinary view from this diminutive hillside town for the last time – the Pleistos River valley stretching to the shimmering Gulf of Itea. It was a spectacular setting, and one I’d never tire of. When our bus arrived, we climbed on board with little room to spare and left Delphi around 11:15am. The bus was absolutely packed.
As we zig-zagged up the steep rocky slopes of Mount Parnassus, I watched the Sanctuary of Apollo slowly disappear below us. If only we’d had a little more time here. To hike the Pleistos River valley and follow the path it cuts through the rugged terrain. To wander the hillside tracks. To explore the Parnassos National Park. To visit the coastal town of Itea. Time will always be the
enemy of travel.
Our journey to Athens on a public bus offered a fascinating perspective of the Greek mainland. We squeezed through narrow streets of small towns, only barely passing buses full of tourists travelling in the opposite direction – most probably towards Delphi. Giant wind towers graced mountain tops, while solar panels, cotton fields, fir trees and pencil pines dotted the landscape. The countryside was parched and arid.
We sped down windy mountainous roads, and I couldn’t help but wonder if the driver had an urgent need to get to Athens as quickly as possible. We briefly stopped at a roadside cafe around midday, reached the outskirts of Athens at 2pm and arrived at our bus terminal at 2:20pm. We clambered off the bus, grabbed our packs from the undercarriage, transferred to a minibus and made the short trip to Hotel Attalos – our favourite place of lodging to-date on this trip. We loved returning to this hotel. The staff were friendly, the location was ideal, the breakfast offerings were brilliant and the rooftop bar… well, it’s hard to find words to describe the rooftop bar. Suffice to say, the view of the nearby Acropolis from the
rooftop bar never grew dull.
We checked in, organised our packs in our room and then headed out to buy a few last-minute gifts. This was to be our last few days in Athens before heading (by ferry) to the Cyclades islands. We wouldn’t be returning to the city – only to the airport – so it was now or never. We had planned to purchase our gifts from a shop we’d discovered in the picturesque suburb of Plaka during our first stay in Athens, but the owner was so rude, we decided to shop elsewhere. Luckily, we chanced upon a shop a little further down Adrianou Street, and the woman who served us was so incredibly friendly. We purchased a bust of Plato, a set of Greek mythology playing cards and evil eye bracelets for ourselves, along with a few gifts for family members back in Australia.
Satisfied with our purchases, we slowly made our way back to Hotel Attalos, picking up some snacks and drinks from our favourite (and ever-busy) supermarket along the way. We headed out to dinner in the mid-evening. Our destination was Pame Tsipouro; Pame Kafeneio, a traditional Greek taverna in nearby Monastiraki.
However, we made a slight detour through Anafiotika, a labyrinth of narrow lanes and picturesque dwellings on the slopes of the Acropolis. It was such a beautiful evening walk. We stumbled upon a baptism celebration that was being documented by a film crew, and the family was so welcoming and friendly to us. It is such an inclusive feeling to be accepted by strangers.
We made our way back to Monastiraki and settled at a long table in Pame Tsipouro; Pame Kafeneio. We shared a plate of zucchini balls (as an appetiser) and a bowl of Greek pasta with olives, feta cheese, capers, peppers, tomatoes, onions and red wine. The two dishes were okay, but they didn’t really warrant a superlative review. We finished the meal with a complimentary plate of watermelon and a glass of
tsipouro (a grape-distilled brandy).
In the late evening warmth of this incredible city, we walked back to Hotel Attalos (picking up a small tub of gelato on the way) and headed straight to the rooftop bar. We farewelled our fellow travellers with a glass of
mastika (liqueur seasoned with resin from the mastic tree), then retired to our room. It was well
past midnight when we finally crashed.
We woke early the next morning and headed down to the intimate breakfast room at Hotel Attalos. I enjoyed Greek yoghurt with muesli and cranberries, and we hydrated with countless cups of tea and juice. We were about to embark on a day of walking and exploring in central Athens, and we needed sustenance to keep us going until lunch.
We headed out into the morning sun, and it was intense. We found solace under awnings and in the shade of buildings, but the Athenian sun is relentless, and its scorching rays always seem to find you. We walked the back streets of Monastiraki until we emerged onto Theorias, the picturesque walking path that channels tourists from Plaka, Aerides and Monastiraki to the main Acropolis entrance. We strolled the length of Theorias, navigated the madness of the Acropolis bus station (on the southern side of the ancient site), then relaxed in the calm surrounds of the park leading up to Filopappou Hill.
By this stage we were seriously hot, so the leafy park offered a welcome solace from the sun. Having cooled and gathered our senses, we made our way up
Filopappou Hill, passing the purported ‘Prison of Socrates’ along the way. I say purported, because it is unlikely Socrates was actually imprisoned in this rock-cut cave. Its proximity to the Ancient Agora has led some archaeologists to believe Socrates was held here prior to his execution (by hemlock) in 399 BC, and tour guides have run with the story. Regardless of its authenticity, the Prison of Socrates is a convenient detour as you climb Filopappou Hill.
The execution of Socrates has always troubled me. In a number of his dialogues, Plato describes the trial and condemnation of Socrates on the ludicrous charges of ‘heresy’ and ‘corrupting the minds of the young’. The jury at Socrates’ trial was upset by his non-belief in the Athenian gods (heresy). They also objected to his preference for philosophers as politicians – as opposed to politicians who lacked philosophical knowledge – and that he corrupted the minds of his students with this notion. So they condemned him to death. How history repeats itself!
Anyway, I’m off point. We captured a few photos of the prison, then made our way back to the main path leading up Filopappou Hill. A little further on we
encountered a baptism at the Church of Ayios Demetrios Loubardiaris – our second baptism in 15 hours. However, the main focus of our climb was the Monument of Filopappos, which had caught our attention when we were exploring the Acropolis a week earlier. The monument sat at the very top of the hill, which was very dusty and exposed with no tree cover and very little shade.
It was so incredibly hot. The late morning sun was beating down upon us. However, the view across to the Acropolis was spectacular, as were the panoramic views of the sprawling cityscape. We stood in awe of distant boats on the Saronic Gulf. Of straight-line streets and endless whitewashed houses. Of hazy grey mountains on distant horizons. We gritted our teeth and took in the arresting vista as best we could, until the heat drove us back down the gravel path in a desperate search for shade. It may have been uncomfortable on the summit of Filopappou Hill, but it was well worth the climb!
We retraced our steps down the hill, wandered the bustling Apostolou Pavlou and then beelined for Plateia Avyssinias in the Monastiraki flea market to seek solace
from the searing heat. Fortuitously, we chanced upon a small internal courtyard of
palaiopoleia (old stuff sellers). It was a Saturday, and the tourist hordes were only twenty or so metres away on the ever-manic Ermou. Yet in our tiny haven, we were fossicking for knicks-knacks with a handful of locals. This tiny courtyard had the feel of a village market, yet it was located in the beating heart of Athens. We were in heaven!
It was time for lunch. We settled at a table outside Kyklamino, a traditional family-run restaurant on the eastern side of the quiet sheltered courtyard. With second-hand and antique shops surrounding us, we ordered
keftedes (meatballs) and
horiatiki (Greek salad). The food was exceptional! I cooled with an Alfa beer, while Ren had a freshly squeezed juice. At the end of the meal, the affable restaurant owner placed a complimentary dessert (semolina halva) on our table. I could have stayed all day.
Since arriving in Greece three weeks earlier, I’d been thinking about buying a set of worry beads. I’d almost given up hope, but luck would have it that an antique shop opposite the restaurant had a set of stone worry beads
in a bowl near the entrance. I asked how much they were, and the owner said five euros. I asked if he’d take three euros, and he nodded his head. They felt very comfortable, and I couldn’t help but wonder who had used them in the past, and whether they had been effective.
We walked back to our hotel through the grungy urban streets of Psyrri. After a brief repose, we headed out in the mid-afternoon to Plateia Omonias, passing the Town Hall and Ethnikis Andistassis Square on the way. We were familiar with this part of the city, as we’d met our guide here for the Urban Adventures ‘Private Taste of Athens Experience’ on our first day in Athens. After buying a pair of sunglasses for Ren from a hole-in-the-wall shop, we navigated the busy city streets on our way to Plateia Ag Konstantinou. As we stood in front of the imposing Church of Saint Constantine, a young guy sat on a bench and injected in broad daylight, only metres from two policeman who seemed disinterested in his condition.
We walked a short distance from the church to the Praying Hands Mural on Tsaldari Panagi Street, an
emotive piece of street art painted on the side of a multi-storey apartment building. This inverted image of Albrecht Dürer’s ‘Praying Hands’ drawing is meant to represent God praying for the people (rather than the other way around). The impact of this caring image, juxtaposed with the young drug addict we had just seen sitting near the church entrance, was as poignant as it was distressing. Every city has a dark side, but there will always be empathy somewhere.
Life in this part of the city is arduous and challenging, despite being only streets away from the affluence of Monastiraki and Syntagma. We didn’t feel threatened in any way, but the general struggle of day-to-day living was very evident. We made our way back to our hotel through the backstreets of Psyrri, picking up some gelato on the way.
In the mid-evening we walked to a buzzing restaurant (Enastron) in Psyrri for dinner, sampling
koulouri (a bagel-like Greek bread) on the way. After settling at a table, we ordered:
> Traditional sausage with mustard sauce
> Moussaka (a traditional recipe with fresh beef mince).
The traditional sausage was sensational (especially when matched with a local Mamos beer),
but the moussaka wasn’t great. I felt it was a bit too sweet, but my analysis of moussaka will never be wholly objective because I’m not a fan of bechamel sauce. We walked back to Hotel Attalos under the night sky, picking up one last gelato (for Ren) along the way. This was to be our final night in Athens, as we would not be returning after our journey through the Cyclades islands. We had a four-hour ferry trip to Syros the next day, and it was an early (6am) start.
We felt a slight tinge of sadness to be leaving this fantastic city, but we were excited to be spending the next week exploring another part of Greece.
SHE SAID... After a frenzied early morning spent visiting the ruins of the Sanctuary of Athena Pronaia, we checked out of Hotel Varonos and walked down to the bus station. We were catching a public bus from Delphi to
Athens.
Considering Delphi is a popular destination for many tourists, I was surprised the bus station was no bigger or fancier than a suburban bus stop, and was operated with a very casual air. Then I remembered
the massive buses parked outside the Delphi Archaeological Site earlier that morning, and realised most people must visit Delphi as an organised day trip from Athens. It certainly explained why there were so many souvenir shops, but only a handful of hotels. It also explained how the town had managed to maintain its very laid-back feel.
Our bus was slightly delayed, and we eventually left Delphi at 11:15am. It was a comfortable enough intercity bus, but it was completely full and we were very lucky that Romy from our group was happy to swap seats so that Andrew and I could sit together. The drive was along scenic winding mountain roads that took us through beautiful little hamlets and a handful of larger towns. The three-hour bus journey included a coffee and toilet stop at the hour mark. I can’t really tell you anything more about the trip, because I promptly fell asleep after that, and only woke up when the bus bumped its way into its parking spot at the hot and dusty Athens Bus Station.
Georgia (our group leader) had organised a minibus transfer to Hotel Attalos, and we were checked in and relaxing in our
room by 3pm. We’d been at this hotel twice before – at the start of our trip, and again between our first trip to the Peloponnese and this one (to the Northern and Central mainland). As a result, we’d had dealings with most of the hotel’s reception staff and when we walked in, one of them greeted us with a smile and a ‘Ah, you’re back again’. Even though this was going to be our 7th and 8th nights at the hotel, given the volume of people who move through a hotel in three weeks, I was genuinely surprised he recognised us. If I was being flippant, I’d say it was because they don’t see many brown people or mixed-race couples. But Andrew is choosing to go with the guy’s response to my surprise: ‘We remember the nice ones’. 😊
We sorted our backpacks, had a few cups of tea and headed out to do some shopping. This was only a quick stopover in Athens before beginning the Cyclades islands leg of our travels… and sadly, it was also our last time in Athens. We wanted to buy a few souvenirs from shops on Adrianou Street that we’d spied
on our previous walks around the Plaka neighbourhood.
We were delighted to find everything we wanted in one shop – small presents for our family, a petite bust of Plato for our CD rack that also displays our souvenirs, a couple of ‘evil-eye’ bracelets for each of us, and a pack of playing cards with mythological artwork. It also made us happy that we gave our custom to a shop owner who was extremely lovely. She went above and beyond in carefully wrapping everything for us.
Declaring our shopping mission a total success, we wandered back to the hotel via the supermarket across the road to stock up on beers for Andrew and snacks of paprika chips (crisps) for me. We also stopped by my favourite ice cream shop Kokkion, and this time I tried the coconut, cocoa and biscuit flavour.
Early that evening we gathered for the last night of our trip, and Georgia took us on a lovely evening stroll through the Plaka neighbourhood. We’d first started walking these street and lanes three weeks ago and, in that time, I’d been eyeing off a particular corner with jasmine vines all along the fences. We’d passed
by a week earlier on our way to the Acropolis, and the jasmine had just started to open. However, the vines were now in glorious full bloom, and their exquisite scent perfumed the whole street.
We kept climbing uphill and eventually ended up at Anafiotika, the tiny old neighbourhood under the Acropolis. When Andrew and I had last explored this area, it had been a ferociously hot day and we had been a bit heat-struck. It was nice to also see the neighbourhood on a peaceful and quiet night. However, there weren’t any street lights, and navigating the uneven paths and irregular steps in the dark was a bit slow going. Georgia led us to a secret little viewpoint that gave us a beautiful night time view across to Lykavittos Hill, with the city lights laid out at its feet.
We walked back through Plaka and Monastiraki to Agia Irini Square to dine at Pame Tsipouro Pame Kafeneio. Agia Irini Square is a very popular square full of restaurants and bars, and all the restaurants was absolutely packed that night. The restaurant we were dining in trades on the fact that it is the oldest something or other.
However, despite all the rave reviews, our experience wasn’t great.
Andrew and I ordered
kolokithokeftedes (zucchini fritters) and Greek pasta (penne with olives, feta, capers, peppers, tomatoes, onions and red wine). Despite being big fans of pasta, for some reason we’d resisted ordering it in Greece so far… I suppose we felt it would be like ordering an Italian dish in Greece. How wrong we were – the Greek flavours in the pasta were undeniable, and I’m definitely going to recreate this at home (with a few tweaks to make it a bit more flavourful). The zucchini fritters, on the other hand, needed far more than just a flavour tweak to make it worthy of recreation.
This was our last group dinner, and it was a shame that it didn’t go smoothly. They forgot our third dish, and a couple of others were still waiting for their meal after most of us had finished. As a result, it made for a very long night. The complimentary watermelon platter and round of
tsipouro (a grape-distilled brandy) helped somewhat to get us back into a suitable mood.
On the way back to the hotel, Andrew and I detoured via
Kokkion again. We were leaving Athens soon and I wanted to try as many of their flavours as I could. The bitter chocolate and passionfruit flavour was delicious, but my running favourite still remained the tonka bean and raw almond one.
Given it was our last night with the group, instead of going out to a bar, we decided to meet at our hotel’s rooftop bar (with its fabulous view of the Parthenon). After a round of
mastika (liqueur seasoned with resin from the mastic tree) shots that weirdly came in a choice of blue or red (!), we sat around and chatted until the bar just about kicked us out at midnight. It had been a very mixed group and it had taken a bit longer the normal for the group to bond; nonetheless we had got there in the end. As we said goodbye to everyone, I sincerely hoped that our future travel paths would cross with a few of the group like Tom and Alex, who we had spent most time with.
At breakfast the next day we ran into a few of the group who were rushing to catch planes. It felt weird to
think that our own trip back home was just over a week away. However, I didn’t have time to dwell on that, as we had to drop off our laundry at reception before the cut off time – and also plan our day in Athens.
Andrew loves climbing to the highest hills in any city we visit, and I’d tentatively earmarked a climb to either Lykavittos Hill or Filopappou Hill. I wasn’t feeling super energetic, so we decided on the smaller of the two – Filopappou.
We walked towards the Acropolis, and we heard the mayhem before we saw it. It was a Saturday and it was just before 11am, so there was total madness outside the entrance to the Acropolis. We crossed the chaotic bus drop-off area at the front entrance, and then very gratefully entered the pine-shaded hillside.
Very pretty sandy paths started winding their way towards the summit, which first took us past the rock-cut cave Prison of Socrates on the eastern slope. Socrates was imprisoned on the charge of moral corruption and impiety (read: encouraging his students to think for themselves). He didn’t deny the charges and willingly drank a cup of hemlock
poison as his execution. There is some debate whether these cave rooms and passages were his actual prison, but I don’t think it really matters. What matters to me is that we remember the questioning of religions and governments will always come at a price.
We also wanted to visit the cute church of Agios Dimitrios Loumbardiaris, as suggested in the Lonely Planet guide. However, a baptism was about to start, and we didn’t wish to intrude on the congregation just so we could have a look at the frescoes inside.
Despite the shade of the pine trees, it was a very hot walk to the summit of the hill. This became even hotter and bordered on unbearable when we walked past the treeline and into the direct blistering sunlight. I think the heat was made worse by the reflection of light off the white marble path and the white limestone rocks all around us! Thankfully, we reached our destination – the Monument of Filopappos – soon after this. Filopappos was a Roman Consul around 115 AD and built this very prominent and elaborate marble statue of himself facing the Acropolis on the next hill. Some say the
statue showed respect to the old gods, others say it was a defiant act; but either way, the statue has lost its head over it. 😊
As hot and uncomfortable as the climb had been, the amazing panoramic views from the top made it very worthwhile. We had the Acropolis directly in front of us, and on the other side, suburbs stretched as far as the Saronic Gulf. The light was so clear that looking past the tiny sail boats and gigantic cargo ships on the water, I’m pretty sure we could see the island of Aegina in the far distance. And directly below us was the sprawl of Athens… like an off-white urban carpet, with the occasional curved dome of a church breaking its squat blockish uniformity.
We walked back down to the city and made our way to the Monastiraki flea market. We had attempted to explore this area before, but had always given up when we’d had enough of the ultra-touristy shops off the pedestrian lanes that lead to it.
Andrew had been looking for a set of worry beads since we’d arrived in Greece, and it was so wonderful that we finally found
a set with lovely green stones. I saw a lot of antiquey things I would have loved to bring back home, but I kept reminding myself that our cupboards were full to capacity. This time I’m very glad we persevered. There are times when Athens can feel a bit modern, but its ancient self is never very far beneath the surface. The small Avyssinias Square we’d ended up at was so cool and down to earth that we abandoned our lunch plans back in Psyrri and sat down at a little family taverna in the square.
When we sat down at Kyklamino, we were only one of about three tables… but by the time we ordered, every single table outside and half the tables inside were full! The guy running the place was extremely friendly, and despite the crush of customers he maintained his composure and smile. Fresh cold orange juice and cold beer hit the spot while we waited for our meals. And when they finally arrived, our shared dishes of Greek salad and
keftedes (meatballs in tomato sauce with potatoes and rice) were seriously delicious. It more than made up for the average meal we’d had the
night before. The complimentary dessert of luscious
semolina halva was the perfect end to such a lovely meal. It’s the first semolina one we’d had on this trip… all the other
halvas have been of the cooked sugar variety (airy honeycomb or fudge-like).
Happily full, we walked back to the hotel for a cup of tea and to cool down. After a brief discussion of what we’d like to do that afternoon, we decided to walk to Omonia Square to begin exploring the Omonia neighbourhood in downtown Athens. My method when trying to get to know any big city, is to dissect it into the small neighbourhoods we’d like to explore… and of the 10 or so neighbourhoods I’d identified in Athens, this was going to be our ninth.
Omonia sits at the northern end of Athinas Street (with Monastiraki on the other end, and our hotel somewhere in the middle). We walked north, past the Central Market, Kotzia Square and the Town Hall. We walked past spices, dried herbs, cheeses, kitchen equipment and plants on Evripidou Street, while other streets like Sofokleous were dedicated to hardware stores and bric-a-brac, or doorknobs of all shapes and sizes on
Vissis Street. Yes, there is a street that’s fully committed to selling doorknobs! I started looking in a few of the second-hand bric-a-brac shops, but the guys in the shops were a bit too brash for my liking, so we kept walking. On our past visits up this end of town, we’d noticed that Athinas Street progressively got grittier the further north it went. After a brief stop to buy some sunglasses for myself, we arrived at Omonia Square.
Not many people have nice things to say about Omonia Square. The first thing to note is that it’s not really a square in the traditional European sense of the word. It’s more a giant roundabout with some fountains in the middle. It was so uninspiring that we both failed to take a photo of it. While it’s not going to win any beauty contests, I can kind of see what the urban planners were trying to do with their rejuvenation efforts. Although sometimes it’s not just enough to build a large public space, you have to also give people incentives to start using it – like putting in shops, cafes or playground equipment.
We turned left on Agiou
Konstantinou Streetto to look at the beautiful National Theatre of Greece (designed by Ernst Ziller) and the 19th century Agiou Konstantinou Cathedral. We didn’t last long in this area because as we turned into the small square the cathedral sits on, we noticed two things straight away – a police presence around a police car unusually parked in the cathedral’s forecourt, and a guy shooting up just a few metres away at the foot of one of the statues. It didn’t necessarily feel unsafe; just a bit uncomfortable.
We continued walking to the other object we’d wanted to see in Omonia – the Praying Hands mural. The huge mural is on the side of a 10-storey apartment building. The traditional image of people praying to god had been flipped to represent god’s hands praying for people. The piece is very eye-catching and strong; and the message is even more powerful given the neighbourhood it’s in.
By now we’d started noticing that the area was very multicultural with lots of Arabic and Indian businesses in the neighbourhood. It also had a bit of a ‘bro’ hangout feel, with groups of young blokes just standing around. I didn’t see a
single female in this area. After we got a few photos of the mural, we made our way back to Psyrri.
As tourists, we sometimes bemoan the fact that we don’t easily get to see the ‘real’ and ‘everyday’ faces of places we visit. However, every now and again when we do come face to face with the very grittiest parts of places, it can be confronting. I had researched and read a lot about the underbelly of Omonia. And while we kept well away from the places with unsavoury reputations (that even the locals avoid), we also wanted to see the place for ourselves. Georgia had warned us that the back streets of Omonia are definitely not places to wander at night but were reasonably safe in the day.
I want to reiterate that it didn’t feel unsafe at any point, but had I not been with Andrew, I may have felt very differently. I suppose we need to balance our need to stray away from the well-worn tourist tracks with being sensible about where we wander (as we would at home).
We slowly made our way back south, eventually reaching the by-now very familiar back
streets of Psyrri. Yet again, we swung by Kokkion. The chocolate and cocoa sorbet was the perfect mix – it had the comforting flavour of chocolate with the smack of a very refreshing icy sorbet.
We picked up our laundry and spent some time packing our bags for our last departure from Athens the next day. We also had our third Intrepid Travel group meeting to prepare for.
On arriving at the rooftop at 6:30pm, we met Nasos (our group leader) who would lead us on the second half of the
Best of Greece trip. He seemed extremely energetic and friendly, but equally importantly, he was an experienced group leader. We met our new group members – Sharon and Jesse (USA), Bobbi (USA), Vu (USA) and Shaun (Aus); with Cilla and Romy who were continuing on from our last group.
As soon as all the formalities and paperwork were completed, we headed out to dinner at Enastron in Psyrri. On the way, Nasos stopped at a 24-bakery dedicated to
koulouri (a bready sesame encrusted ring). They work around the clock to supply this much-loved breakfast item to the bakeries in Athens for breakfast.
By now we’d
walked quite a bit around the streets and lanes of Psyrri, but we had totally missed the little street our restaurant was on. I ordered the
moussaka (a layered dish of eggplant and minced meat, topped with a white sauce), and while it was rather nice, it wasn’t as delicious as the one we’d had in a taverna in Kalamata. It was the first time I’d had
moussaka cooked as an individual serve, and I’m not sure I’m a fan. It was such a large serve that I managed less than half before passing it over to Andrew. Andrew and I weren’t sitting together, but I think he loved his traditional Greek sausage meal, because I’d barely touched mine and Andrew had already finished his! 😄
We had a very early start the next morning, so we decided to head directly back to the hotel… but not before one last ice cream! I had to end with my favourite of all the ice cream and sorbet flavours I’d tried from Kokkion – raw almond and tonka bean. I really wasn’t all that tired, but I forced myself to go to bed after the alarm was set for 4am!
Well Athens… what can I say? We ate well, we drank well, and we walked a lot. Then we ate some more, and we walked some more… it had been the perfect end to our time in Athens. I would have loved it if our stay could have been much longer, but we say that about all the places we love… and it’s sadly not a possibility with our time-restricted travel schedule. All we can hope for is that we are lucky enough to return very soon to this place that we’d both fallen so much in love with.
Next we travel southeast to Syros, the Capital of the Cycaldes islands.
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Chris L.
non-member comment
The other side
Tourism agents don’t like the other side of a city to be viewed by tourists. Sometimes for image reasons, or sometimes for safety reasons. It’s unfortunate but understandable.