Let’s now return to Athens and give a word more on its architecture. It is obvious, and anyone who has set foot in the city knows it to be true, that Athens is a city of ruins. In addition to the Attic, Roman, Byzantine, and Ottoman ruins are those of Neoclassical buildings from the last two centuries, which are often abandoned and in pitiful decay, and even some of the more recent buildings that are mutilated, battered, and cracked all over, and seem close to collapse. To add to this physiognomy of what would seem like derelict disfigurement to less-sensitive souls, but is a vision of splendor to us poets, Athens is daubed with colorful graffiti, and, if the ancient marble has lost its variegation, the modern city remains adorned with them. The reliefs of the Parthenon are austere white so that the walls of the subway stations can be flamboyant. Athens’ colors have not disappeared, they have simply moved dwellings.
The result of this ancient and modern decrepitude is the precipitating of any pedestrian who is a bit of a dreamer into a profound philosophical meditation on “The Passage of Time and The Perpetuity of Peoples.” If that same dreamer takes the fancy to pick up some piece of debris from the ground, they would dream it a fragment of some archaic fresco of 2,000 years old, yet would hardly be disappointed to realize that it’s some common splinter of a taverna wall painted by who knows who some 10 years ago. This, too, is history.
What is furthermore truly delightful about Athens, beyond its structure, is its nature. The Greek Agora Park is by far the most beautiful. It is located at the foot of the Acropolis, and although the entrance fee is 10 Euros, which may seem expensive to anyone who, like myself, believes that spectacles of nature should be free, it’s worth its cost. Moreover, the entrance price includes access to the Agora Museum where one can observe the fruits of the park’s excavations. On my first visit (I went three times), I stayed transfixed for a long while by a perfume bottle in the shape of a young athlete bandaging his forehead with a ribbon, dated 540 BCE which is, surprisingly for such an old object, all in one piece. Only the ribbon is missing. I indulged in obscure conjectures about the type of cloth the missing ribbon should be made of, or what color it ought to be. The illumination of this mystery seemed to me at that moment my most imperative responsibility. Two American tourists behind me who wanted to photograph “my athlete” tried for some long minutes to pull me out of my reverie.
In addition to the museum, several other structures decorate the park. I am referring to decoration, which is unusual for nature; it is already so magnanimous with its beauty that there is no need for further artifice. Nevertheless, I must admit that some of the greatest beauties can always be enhanced by particular care of grooming. Among other coquetries, the temple of Hephaisteion, this miniature Acropolis, the little sister of the other, is notably well preserved and imposes itself on its environment in a way that could not be more bucolic. All eras frequent the park, the dizzying effect that this rubbing of shoulders of temporalities inspires was mentioned earlier. Finally, tall grasses, bushes, acanthus plants, mimosas, fennel, cypress, pine, oak, olive trees, laurels, palms, and carob trees, which, I am told, grow everywhere in Greece and are to trees what nettle is to plant, fragrant fig trees with their fruits swollen with sap, masses of strange and colorful flowers, a procession of singing birds, and myriads of white butterflies which are petals made living by some trick of the gods inhabit the space. Under the arabesque of a wild stem, sometimes, one can catch a glimpse of a fragment of an Ionic or Corinthian column. And always cats napping in the rockery in the shade of the ruins, the only constant in the marvelous strangeness of pagan spaces. One would ardently wish to have this decor for a scene of passionate romance, and I regretted, not without bitterness, the circumstances which meant that I was there alone.
Let’s pursue. This article is not only a report of my own experiences — I intend to make suggestions that will be of interest to travelers. It will therefore be relevant to now turn our attention to “What to do,” starting with the museums. In addition to that of the Agora, which was mentioned earlier, and that of the Acropolis, the National Archaeological Museum is a mandatory visit for the extent of their collections. The Benaki Museum of Greek Culture is also fascinating and regroups artifacts from all periods of the country’s history to provide a holistic perspective of Hellenic arts and culture. Their collections of decorative arts and traditional costumes are notorious. They happen to have a very visitable boutique for those who, I admit it with regret, like myself, have materialistic impulses and for whom the jouissance of an experience can be enhanced by the acquisition of a nice object. The Museum of Cycladic Art is just as esteemable and their curatorial decision to juxtapose the enigmatic Cycladic marble statuettes with the works of contemporary artists blows a progressive current on archaeological museology. Athens also has a flourishing contemporary art scene and has its own National Museum of Contemporary Art, in addition to several art galleries that grow wherever the soil is fertilized by innovative artistic thought, these white cubes are the shoots of the avant-garde bulb. The Breeder Gallery, the Rodeo Gallery, The Intermission, the Carwan Gallery, which exhibits architectural and interior design works, and the Gagosian are some notable examples.
Let us indulge in consumerism since we’ve brushed the subject. Every Sunday on Avissinias Square in the heart of the Monastiraki Market, the antiques market is held. Valuable objects of all kinds can be found among bowls filled with ex-votos, mountains of silverware and coral jewelry, religious icons stacked on top of each other, and many other picturesque fantasies. Some merchants will kindly let you haggle their prices, others are fiercely tenacious. I myself was caught in a relentless negotiation over a mother-of-pearl jewelry box that I believed I was being wildly overcharged for, while a Greek teenage boy served as our translator and mediator. (If you care to know, it was a battle that I did not win.) By walking a little further, one can rummage through piles of vintage postcards that itinerant sellers that line the streets leading to the Acropolis Hill lay on lace tablecloths on the ground. Pick one up and consider its pictural value as a personal omen.
As for boutiques, I recommend Naxos Apothecary and 10AM Apotheke for local Greek products, fragrances, and herbal remedies made with natural and local ingredients. Finally, Sacrificium Store offers an archival collection of selected vintage designer clothing pieces, chosen carefully with a minute interest in textiles in mind. Their collection can be shopped by appointment through their website.
On the topic of cultural activities and if the spectacles of people-watching start to bore you, I suggest seeing a play in Theatro Petras. I found this place somewhat by chance, by running a poster I saw on a wall through Google Translate, and it was the best experience of my trip. It is located in an ancient outdoor amphitheater, about a 20-minute drive (or taxi ride) from the center of Athens, surrounded by sandy red mountains. The play was about the mysteries of the Dionysian cults, all in Greek and therefore incomprehensible to me. I dutifully occupied myself by drinking boxed (terrible) red wine in a plastic cup, ensuring I was perfectly inhibited with the easy ecstasy of the first phase of drunkenness, and, therefore, wildly amused despite my lack of understanding. Two younger boys of around 20 years old, both redheads, noticed my perplexity and were kind enough to explain the plot to me; yet I found that there was a certain exhilaration to the commotion of nebulousness caused by language barriers.
For the less mystical, open-air cinemas are obviously the contemporary incarnation of amphitheaters. Greek culture has hardly changed since Aeschylus, and the Athenians continue to congregate at the movies every Friday evening. The Thision Open Air Cinema is quite good. If you ever get tired of the screen, it offers a beautiful view of the Acropolis and shows films in English or with subtitles.
Florence Quirion is a stylist, writer, perfumer, and traveler who lives in Montréal, Québec. Her interest in the porosity of temporal connectivity inspires her spiritual point of view on her frequent travels to Greece, which she considers a passage into Ancient times.