Falling in love with Athens – Exploring Plaka & Anafiotika 

I got off the metro station of Monastiraki to find a city pulsing with energy. People walking at different paces, in and out of shops and cafes, chatting and laughing; roads that aren’t large enough for the traffic; cars standing still, whilst skilled pedestrians go around them, looking sideways in case the light turns green. Hard to see the zebra crossings, and the traffic lights aren’t pedestrian friendly, which was immediately evident to me. I followed the locals, whilst navigating the astonishing sea of people I was finding on the streets. Athens was busy, more than I expected.

I slowly walked to my accommodation, navigating the passing crowds, somehow in a daze. I had slept so badly the previous night, and my body felt heavy, rigid, a lingering headache threatening to split my vision in two. The passersby were faceless, and the streets were bright but confusing. Everything was somehow muted, but there was the pulse of the energetic capital, I could feel it, and I wanted my heart to beat in the same rhythm, but it couldn’t; the only music my heart had been dancing to was composed by anxiety. 

Some rest was due, and I was going to finally let my body give in in a bedroom located in the slopes of the Acropolis, in the neighborhood of Plaka. There was a reassurance of being so near an ancient sacred place, hoping that the goddess Athena herself could deliver some solace to someone who, in times so long passed, could have been a disciple. 

Once I stepped into the narrow, uphill streets of Plaka, it was like I had been bewitched. Enchantment fuelled me, and I felt I was somewhere else from just a few seconds ago. Was I on a Greek island and not in Athens, on the continent? Had I passed through some sort of magical portal, transporting me to this mesmerising village? The pots with plants blooming, the greenery of ivy, the colourful walls; the cobblestone narrow streets, never meant to have cars in them…the smell of grilled meat and vegetables, of bread and comfort. There was a cool breeze, brought by the end of the day. I was glad to have brought a scarf. A cat chasing a pigeon, others sleeping comfortably on restaurants’ outdoor chairs.  

And when I allowed my eyes to look up the one and only Acropolis, that mighty complex that has survived for 2,500 years. My favourite places to travel to are in the past. 

That day, I did little. I was enchanted, but the batteries were running low. My stomach growled, starving. I hadn’t had a decent meal yet… and Plaka has restaurants in abundance, particularly those taverns which have been in the family for generations, where a Greek meal experience could hardly be more authentic – and never a disappointment. 

For my first meal, dinner, I decided to take up the recommendation of the host of the accommodation where I was staying – Acron Athens, which I highly recommend. Restaurant Scholarhio. I was pleased to see I was the only tourist, until another couple, older, arrived. Around me, I was hearing Greek. I decided to go against my dislike for red meat. Moussaka looked too good, the kind of comfort food my body was craving. Later, on my last day in Athens, I found some places doing the vegetarian option…but that day, I was ready to try it anyway, even the lamb version, a meat I never liked. With a thin layer of potato and eggplant, it’s filled with ground meat, and tomato sauce. It was so good… but I had to leave a lot of the meat aside, as I do not really enjoy the taste of it. This was a shame, but I was still happy to have tried it. The red wine had warmed me up a little, and for dessert I got orange pie – absolutely delish. 

That night I slept 12 hours, something of a rarity with me. Especially in a bed that is not familiar. I could tell I was indeed exhausted, wanting to close my eyes at 8:30pm, which means 6:30pm back home. I didn’t hold it for much longer though, and fell into a trance. 

Part of this relaxation, I believe, came from the fact that there wasn’t much I could do on Friday. There was a general strike – everything was closed, including archaeological sites and museums, even most restaurants and cafes. Usually, when I’m home, even on the weekend, I can never fully relax – the next day I would usually wake up early for a class at the gym, there is the cleaning to do, likely grocery shopping and other errands. But on that Friday, there were no responsibilities awaiting my care. The center of the city was to be avoided due to demonstrations, so I walked in the morning around Plaka. I was now rested, the haze from the previous evening lifted, and I could again see clearly. 

Plaka is the oldest neighborhood of Athens, and so also the most charming. I felt so privileged I could stay here. Prices are usually higher, but I’d say it is worth it, especially for a first time visit to the city. I didn’t find Acron Athens too expensive, and I’m aware I was also visiting during the last weekend of what’s considered low season.

 Since it’s the oldest neighborhood, in one of the oldest human settlements that laid the foundation for what is today recognised as the modern civilization, these streets have witnessed a lot. They have been there since ancient times, once part of the residential area of the city in the Classical era. It was known for its proximity to the marketplace – the Agora – and it was here that philosophers, artists and politicians gathered. 

The multiple Byzantine churches we find in this neighborhood take us to the Roman and Byzantine times, and when the Ottomans conquered and occupied Greece from the 15th to the 19th century, Plaka’s architecture was influenced by them as well. 

In the 19th to 20th century, neoclassical architecture flourished and from the mid-20th century, there has been a continuous effort to preserve Plaka’s historical character. It’s now mostly a popular tourist destination full of shops, cafes, restaurants… but perhaps what I found most charming about it is how it’s not that manicured. In fact, there is an inherent grittiness to it. You are reminded of the modern struggles of the country, with abandoned buildings, others falling apart, and graffiti covering so many walls. To me this added to the authenticity in the place. This is a place that is lived in, and not just for show… and yet I’m not sure for how much longer. A lot of the housing is being converted into Airbnbs, and rent prices have doubled in the past few years. Greece isn’t of course immune to this sad and eventual destructive trend – a pandemic of inflation – that affects so many cities attracting the eyes and the pockets of tourists. 

As you walk in Plaka – or anywhere in Athens – you just keep stumbling upon ancient history. Seemingly empty spaces between buildings, where you can then distinguish some remnants of columns, of walls… where only cats are allowed entrance, sleeping and purring on top of these sun-heated marble, once sculpted and erected by the humans of over two thousand years ago. The cats, likely tired of being photographed and petted by tourists, seem to know where to go to be untouchable… the archaeological sites where we’re banned from, are the resting place of these spoiled felines. You won’t see a skinny cat in Athens. There are bowls of food and water everywhere, and I myself saw locals opening cans of wet cat food, feeding those who became the true gods of Athens. 

Within Plaka there is an even more picturesque area called Anafiotika. The streets are even narrower, windy, and I almost felt I was entering someone’s backyard. It’s lined with whitewashed houses which reminded me immediately of a Greek island, even though I had never been on one. I then learned the name of this area comes from the Greek island of Anafi – workers from the island settled here in the 19th century, after coming to Athens to help build King Otto’s royal palace. They remained true to their heritage, bringing the same architecture from the island they inhabited. 

It is quaint, quiet and peaceful. Cats play around, unafraid. There are plants everywhere, still shy at this time of the year, but I’m sure they are in full blossom in Spring. The orange and lemon trees spray their unique citric scent, and you would never have imagined, if you closed your eyes, that you are in the capital of a country. But if you keep going up the streets of Anafiotika, and eventually look around you will see the true expanse, the true size of Athens. Much bigger, much ampler than I imagined. 

I got closer to the Acropolis, even though it was closed that day, but my focus was more the city, the modern city, in front of me. There are no high risers, as nothing can block the view of the Acropolis, which remains so sacred after centuries of existence. Mostly, it’s all so white, assuming a pattern that I could not stop photographing. Blending in this amalgamation of housing, hotels, shops, churches, restaurants, plazas and squares. All white, but far from monotonous, especially that day, when I could hear the chants of those who spoke against corruption, demanding justice.

In the evening, I walked to the top of the Philopappos Hill. To the right you have the magnificent view of the Acropolis, to the left the view to the Aegean Sea. I sat there reading for a while, waiting for the Golden hour, when the Acropolis became golden, and the sea silver.

I watched the sunset once again bewildered with the beauty this world serves us with, reminding myself of the privilege to be alive, of my smallness, and that of my struggles. I am alive in this beautiful world we live in. Despite everything, it is indeed magnificent. As the sun slowly waved goodbyes, a cooler breeze made me shiver. I slowly made my way down the hill, ready to succumb to the comforts of my room, with my book, for the rest of the day.

Love, Nic