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As one of the world’s oldest cities, Athens is beautiful, dirty and vibrantly alive. The streets team with people: Tourists, locals and immigrants alike. In this city known as the birthplace of democracy and the cradle of Western civilization, ancient marble structures converse with the sleekly modern, as well as the cheap and tawdry. Families beg on the doorsteps of four-star hotels, and stray dogs roam in parts of the Parthenon closed to the general public. Continuously inhabited for at least 7,000 years, Athens has character, and the grit to prove it.
The grit is the first thing I notice as we trudge up the cement steps leading out of the metro to Omonoia Square. Buildings are grey and grimy and adorned with occasional graffiti. A small boy crouches on a stoop with an extended hand. While I’m debating whether or not money given the child will actually go towards feeding him, I wonder, where’s Athena, Athens’ patroness and protector when her people need her?
My husband, Jesus, taps me on the shoulder and raises his eyebrows. I’m staring too hard, besides the light has changed and it’s our turn to cross. Omonoia square is not square at all, but is actually a large circle with side streets radiating out. Our hotel lies at the end of one of those streets. Finding it is the trick.
After a few tries we make a go of it and get to the hotel in one piece with all our gear. While our room has views of the Acropolis only partially obstructed by modern construction, I’m eager to get out and get a better view and perhaps something to eat while we’re at it.
We set out to pay our respects to Athena, the Greek goddess of wisdom. Her temple, the Parthenon, is perched upon the high hill of the Acropolis, where it’s held court over Greece’s capital city since 438 BC, surviving reincarnations as a Christian church, a mosque, and a fortress. Despite the scaffolding and construction materials surrounding the temple, it still impresses, although I must confess I prefer the nearby Erectheum with its “Porch of the Maidens.”
Graceful figures, swathed in marble robes balance the weight of the temple on their heads. Mere copies of the originals, they pose without complaint for endless cameras with no memory of the temple’s original purpose. For my part, I can’t help but shudder when I imagine the sacred snake once housed in the temple’s foundations, thought essential for the safety of the city, fed honey-cakes by the priestesses.
Even in the fleeting sunlight, Athens is a curious mixture of the modern and ancient. My stomach grumbles at the mental mention of honey-cakes, and briefly distracts me from breathtaking views of modern Athens, speckled with the Athens that was. Open theatres carved into the hillside, sculptures and cemeteries speak of a golden age, long past.
Glimpses of that Athens are everywhere I turn on the walk back. Across a busy street in a small park, stand the Columns of Olympian Zeus, only 15 of the original 104. Seventeen meters tall, they tower over tiny humans, palm trees, and fields of clover. A 16th column reclines in the grass, knocked over during a storm in 1852. Along the way, a statue of Dionysus, god of wine and revelry, winks at me as cars zoom by, stereos blasting the latest top 40 hits. He obviously knows and appreciates my affection for food and drink.
We wander away from the more touristy areas and settle on a small but busy restaurant where we order a small metal jug of retsina, a typical Greek wine with a strong resin flavor, with Tirokafteri, a spicy cheese dip to start. Feta-cheese and olive oil based, it comes heaped on a plate and flecked with hot pepper. Mopped up with thick slices of crusty bread and washed down with retsina, I would call it dinner, but we already ordered main courses. Before we can even polish off our cheese, Jesus is presented with a fragrant hunk of lamb on a mountain of very yellow potato wedges. While I’m explaining to Jesus that the potatoes are so yellow because of the olive oil, spices and lemon used to season them, the waiter reappears with my slab of Mousaka, topped with a thick layer of béchamel sauce. It’s far too much food, but I’ll manage somehow….maybe Dionysus will step in and lend me some appetite.
If you can’t get to Greece or one of the Greek restaurants in the area to eat and are having spicy cheese cravings, make your own spicy cheese dip. Mix 1 cup crumbled feta cheese with 1/2 cup ricotta; 1 small hot pepper, chopped; three tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil; 1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice; a pinch of salt; and a sprinkle of red pepper flakes and oregano to taste. Et voila, you have an easy, authentic Greek recipe that’s great with bread, crackers and grilled or raw veggies.
