Athens, Greece

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Note: nearly all pictures of my time in Greece were deleted due to a software glitch.

I believe if Athens were to run an ad campaign in the style of the typical market shop owner, it would go “you want old rock? We got old rocks!” There are so many fenced off ruins littering the place, at a glance it almost appears to be the sole attraction. I find it funny they charge foreigners to see some of these up close, as they look just as old and just as rocky from either side of the fence. Now don’t get me wrong, I like old bits of history as much as the next guy, but I feel more could have been done to capture one’s imagination. For example, they could have posted something explaining the significance of the ruins or re-erected the fallen pillars and assembled them back into something resembling what they once were rather than just leaving them scattered and broken as if a toddler had neglected to pick up his toy blocks all over the place. Having said that, I still went out and saw all the ruins; cause hey, old rocks.

Aside from the rocks, Athens is home to some of the best Souvlaki and Gyros one can lay their hands on. It is delicious and meaty and will almost consistently have you coming back for more. Luckily the best Souvlaki in town is just at the center of one of the more vibrant areas of the city, surrounded by flea markets, touristy shops, and long alleyways with street musicians and performers, so there is plenty of opportunity to come back to meat heaven between leisurely strolls.

Once you’ve had your fill of rocks and meat, you realize Athens is currently home to an active anti-establishment movement that organizes strikes and demonstrations through squats that have become a kind of ad-hoc headquarters. They play loud music, the lyrics of which plead the plights of the common man; and hand out leaflets that explain and justify their cause. After wondering around a bit, I find out they are to organize a demonstration (read: riot) the day my flight is set to leave from Athens to Tel-Aviv. At first I wonder if I’d be able to make my flight, but once I figure out a good escape route I think: hey, this could be fun. So I grab the nearest willing crazy tourist and we hit the streets. We see all stages of a good demonstration: preparation, organization, formation into ranks, marching, chanting, Molotov Cocktails, tear-gas, riot police, dispersion, regrouping, marching again, etc. Having watched the whole thing unfold from a rooftop café and from the streets, I feel my day complete. I leave my new riot partner in the capable hands of the riot and blitz to the hostel to get my bag and leave to the airport.