ATHENS
SAVOY HOTEL
The Smart Guide: Athens
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August 15, 2004
The Sunday Times
The Smart Guide: Athens
Once the Olympian crowds have left, take advantage of a spruced-up city. Anthony Peregrine gets classical
The evening sun turns the Acropolis red
Map of route around Athens
No matter how many photos you’ve seen, the first glimpse of the Parthenon up on its rock is mesmerising. It oversees the sprawling scrum that is contemporary Athens with utter disdain. There is something of the eternal about it.
This is not simply another tourist-attraction ruin. Nor are the city’s other classical remains. They are our roots — the sites where history gave trial runs to democracy and a form of humanism. It happened right here: on the Acropolis, in the Agora or up on Pnika hill. It is breathtaking, and realised in breathtaking form.
Democracy didn’t evolve in a vacuum. In the 5th century BC, Athens was not only Greece’s leading city-state but also host to the greatest burst of creativity the world had seen, or would see, for a very long time.
Socrates was philosophising (and getting executed for his trouble); Sophocles, Aeschylus and Euripides were refining theatrical tragedy; Herodotus inventing history writing; and Phidias moving sculpture along. Meanwhile, Pericles, the greatest Athenian leader, was giving the vote to the landless.
Here, then, was a civilisation at the top of its form: the Parthenon and other temples on the Acropolis were its sublime physical expression. So forget the endless scruffiness of modern Athens. Forget the hectic scramble it took to get the Olympics ready in time. Forget, in fact, the Olympics. What you are really going to Athens to see is the ancient articulation of values we still reckon civilised.
FIRST EVENING
You won’t be able to resist it. The floodlit Parthenon will draw you to the base of the Acropolis, from where you will stare up, awestruck. It really does look to be placed between earth and heaven. Celebrate this first glimpse with a drink in the Plaka district, the oldest bit of non-classical Athens. In the lee of the Acropolis, it is your first indication that contemporary Athens is not charm-free.
DAY ONE: morning
Early breakfast and out, for the 8.30am opening of the Acropolis. Any later, and you’ll end up frying in the midday heat. Avoid the main entrance and head instead for the southern side entry which, though nearer the city centre, is less popular.
It also has the advantage of taking you up the southern slope of the Acropolis, which main-entrance visitors often bypass — a pity, because this slope, under the looming Parthenon, was a key Athenian quarter, alive with arty and intellectual types.
So pay up, then climb up through the wooded parkland, first to the Theatre of Dionysus. The oldest in Greece, it had stone seating for 17,000, backing right up the hill, and a three-storey stage backdrop with pillars and balconies. There is not a vast amount left, but you may roam over what there is. All the great tragedians played works here. Close your eyes to hear Sophocles or Euripides.
FURTHER UP, you join the Peripatos, the main street which encircled the Acropolis. It takes you by the Asklepeion, a temple-cum-clinic dedicated to the god of medicine, and along the top of the Stoa of Eumenes colonnade, created as a walkway for theatregoers.
And then you are at the Odeon of Herodes Atticus, evidence that, though the Romans weren’t welcome when they took over in 146BC, they did their bit to keep Athens looking good. Atticus was a Roman consul who, on his wife’s death, did two things: he painted his house black, then built this 5,000-seat concert hall in her memory.
Much survives, including half the four-storey stone back-drop and seating steeper than the sides of a salad bowl. The grand-scale intimacy was perfect for musical shows. Still is, apparently. Rostropovich performed here in recent times. So did Diana Ross and, in 1994, the Greek-born American superstar Yanni.
Now, you are at the top — the Acropolis proper. Folk had lived up here from neolithic times. By the 6th century BC, though, it was a solely religious site, covered with temples, which rampaging Persians smashed in 480BC. It didn’t do them much good. The Greeks saw them off later that year at the sea battle of Salamis. To celebrate their ascendancy, Pericles pushed through the fantastic building programme, the remains of which are next.
Though principally in honour of Athena, the Acropolis programme included nods to other gods, notably Poseidon. Ponder this as you tackle the last few steps, then turn for a stupendous view over Pnika hill to Piraeus. Turn back, and you are at the Propylaea, the monumental gate to the site. You have joined up with the main-entry crowds, but they all seem to gallop through here, so stand to one side and take it in.
Though presently covered in scaffolding, the gate’s grandeur is unmistakable. It had to be big, if only to let through the great, four-yearly Panathenaic festival procession that wound up from the city below, bringing cattle and sheep for sacrifice.
It still seems to herald something sacred, with its central block, flanking wings and forest of columns fore and aft. Just before going through, look right to the Temple of Athena Nike, standing out on its own platform. It is currently closed for rebuilding, but you can still see that, though small, the temple is perfectly formed.
NOW YOU are in the Acropolis and heading straight for the Parthenon. Battered, bruised and trimmed with cranes winching bits back into place, it still exerts an attraction equalled by no building I know.
You may not enter, or even get too close. No matter. Start at the west end and gaze at the eight Doric columns and entablature and pediment above. Walk down the 70-metre, 17-column side to the eastern entrance, and back up the other side.
What you are seeing is not even half a building: in 1687, besieging Venetians scored a direct hit, so demolishing the roof, 14 outer columns and the complex inner structure of rooms, where a 40-foot gold-and-ivory statue of Athena had presided.
More than a century later, Lord Elgin made off with magnificent statuary and chunks of the 160-metre frieze that ran all round the wall within the columns. Strangely, though, the building appears neither diminished nor pitiful.
So much for the broad sweep. For the detail, nip into the Acropolis Museum at the Parthenon’s eastern end: it houses a superb collection of sculpture. Note the gradual change from stylised and smiling to lifelike and frowning.
The next room has what’s left of the Parthenon frieze. Depicting the Panathenaic procession in lively fashion, it reads like a comic strip.
Finally, don’t miss the caryatids, or columns in female shape. The ones in the museum are the originals, and those presently holding up the southern porch of the Erechtheion temple, the last Acropolis monument, are reproductions. Perfect, though. The women’s hair is bunched about their necks, otherwise too slender to carry the weight of the roof. One leg is slightly forward, for similar weight-distribution purposes. The result is a construction device that is simultaneously efficient, graceful and even provocative. Nobody ever said that about breeze blocks.
The Erechtheion itself is a little wonder of an ornate temple, honouring a raft of gods, including Poseidon. It suffered shelling during the independence wars in 1827 and, like all the Acropolis buildings, had a chequered post-classical career. The Turks used it as a harem. However, with its perfect Ionic columns, it exudes a stillness as timeless as the Athenian sky. Ah, yes, the sky. Now, as you backtrack, take time to notice just how vital it is to the majesty of the Acropolis. You are 150 metres up. The mortal world is way down below. So the monuments stand out unqualified against the deep blue. They are indeed bridging the gap to heaven. You, too, will be believing in Athena. Now move down and out through the main entrance (the one you avoided earlier) and off right, through the trees, to the Arios Pagos, or Mars Hill. This is a rocky bump, a baby-son-of-Acropolis, and served at various times as the supreme court, a debating forum and stage for St Paul when he arrived around AD50 to try to convert the Athenians. Only climb to the top if you have nonslip shoes: the steps cut into the marble are treacherous.
And so to a late lunch. No need to worry: most Athenians eat late. If feeling flush, head for the Dionysus, a stone-and-glass spot right opposite the path up to the main Acropolis entrance. It’s good but flash — expect to pay at least £40pp. Tighter budgets might consider the tavernas on Makrigianni.
DAY ONE: afternoon
You should tackle the National Archeological Museum (44 Patission, £4.20). Reopened last month after extensive works, it’s one of the world’s greatest, full of treasures, from neolithic vases and Cycladic figurines through to Hellenistic and Roman-era works. You would need days to do it properly, so look out especially for the extraordinary Mycenaean gold collection, including the Mask of Agamemnon, which dates from the 16th century BC (and wasn’t really his mask at all).
Alternatively, you might feel overwhelmed enough for one day and want something more manageable. Make for the Sindagma central square, then Vassilissis Sofias and the Benaki museum (£2.85), at the corner of Koumbari. This has a decent collection of Cycladic marble abstract female figures, all with arms folded. Four and a half thousand years on, they’re utterly disarming. It also covers much of Greek history, from classical vases through Byzantine icons to the 19th-century war of independence. (Look out for Byron’s pistols.) It is briskly and superbly done. If you go on a Thursday, it’s free.
Now for R&R. Luckily enough, Kolonaki, Athens’s fashion shopping zone, is right next door. It’s not Bond Street, but it has the clobber — plus, in pedestrian streets such as Milioni, there are bars where chic folk gather. Take an aperitif, then dine at To Kafeneio, on Loukianou. From £25pp.
DAY TWO: morning
Yesterday was ancient Athens with its spiritual side out; today it’s civic life. First, head round the base of the Acropolis and into the Monastiraki district. Once the centre of Ottoman Athens, it’s now atmospheric or scruffy, according to taste.
From Andrianou, cross the railway track and voilà, the Agora. Before entering, pause to appreciate the cracking view to the Acropolis. Up there was the gods’ department. Down here, men ran their affairs. The Agora was effectively the hub of the city, at once the marketplace and centre of government, administration and entertainment.
At first sight, it is pretty unpromising — apparently 30 acres of unrelieved rubble. It had, after all, been bashed and built over for 2,000 years before, in 1931, American archeologists started excavations that still continue.
Inside the main gate, turn right and go up the hill to the Hephaisteion, which is the best-preserved building here. It is a lovely temple, set about with Doric columns, where classical Greeks worshipped the god of metalwork before Christians bagged it in the name of St George.
From the Hephaisteion hill, you get a good overview of the site. Take a little time and you can just about visualise colonnades and promenades, and the bustle of important men (few women: if they were seen too often in the Agora, their reputations were shot). This is the birthplace of democratic government. It’s worth a bit of effort.
Then simply wander — past the Bouleuterion council chamber, the round Tholos council HQ and the relics of shops, temples and public offices. Finally, you arrive at the Stoa of Attalos, a long building fronted by a majestic, two-storey arcade. Built in the 2nd century BC, it was demolished by Herulians in AD267 — and rebuilt with original materials (and Rockefeller cash) in the 1950s. It’s now a museum full of finds from the Agora site.
From the Stoa, take the Panathenaic Way back to the main gate. Exit and follow the wriggling streets to the Roman Agora and then lunch back in the Plaka district. To Paleo Tetradio, just up the hill on Mnisikleous, is a cut above the average. Order a range of mezedes (starters) and forget main courses. From £20pp.
DAY TWO: afternoon
One more key site to see. First, return to the Dionysus restaurant via the pedestrianised Dionysiou Areopagitou. The path up to the main Acropolis entrance is on the right. Ignore it. Instead, take the gently rising paved road through woodland to the left, signposted to the church of St Demetrius. At the church, take the path to the right. A couple more minutes and you are at Pnika Hill.
It was here, through the trees, on the broad swathe of grass looking across to the Parthenon, that Athens exercised its democracy. Admininistration and council meetings took place, as we’ve seen, in the Agora. But, when the citizens’ views were needed, they were convened up here — at least, from the 6th to 4th centuries BC. Thousands would gather to be addressed by Themistocles, Pericles or Demosthenes, speaking from the bema (platform) carved out of a rocky ridge. It is still there. You can climb up and stand where Pericles stood. It is immensely moving, even if your audience consists entirely of stray dogs.
Final dinner at Strofi, 25 Robertou Galli, a basic, traditional taverna with standards higher than most. If the evening is warm, try for a table on the roof terrace. The views across to the illuminated Parthenon would make dry bread taste good. As always with the world’s really great monuments, seen from a distance, it looks so inspiring, so complete unto itself that you will find yourself disbelieving you were ever allowed near.
Knowledge is power: five Athens facts
Despite its masculine appearance, the Parthenon has more curves than straight lines. The 10.5-metre pillars lean slightly inwards in order, as one expert wrote, “to counteract the impression given by very big buildings that their top is leaning outwards”. It has been estimated that, if the Parthenon were eight times higher, it would be a pyramid.
Both the pillar base and steps are slightly curved, and the platform, or floor, is convex. So long are the horizontal lines that, if these elements were flat or straight, the optical impression would be of a dip in the middle.
Athens’s classical heyday, in the 5th century BC, lasted only a short time — from the defeat of the Persians in 480BC to the start of the Peloponnesian War less than 50 years later, in 431BC.
Athens really lost its standing in the 6th century AD, when Aristotle’s and Plato’s schools of rhetoric and philosophy were shut down because they didn’t fit in with Christian thought. Athens declined to an unimportant outpost of the Byzantine empire. When, following Greek independence from the Turks in 1829, Athens was chosen as capital, it was barely a small country town.
A word of warning: a recent EU survey reported that, of all the union’s populations, the Greeks thought themselves the most stressed, unhappy, overworked and underpaid. Or, as a Greek journalist put it, “the most whiny, scowling and misery-mongering people in Europe”.
The hows, the whens, the wheres: everything you need to plan your trip
When to go: September, with the hordes gone and the heat tamed, is an excellent time to see it all.
Access to the sites: with one €12 (£8.40) ticket, you can visit virtually everything. The pass is available at any of the sites mentioned here, and covers all except the stand-alone museums.
Getting there: scheduled flights serve Athens from London and Manchester. British Airways (0870 850 9850, www.ba.com) flies from Heathrow with fares from £135; EasyJet (0871 750 0100, www.easyjet.com) flies from Luton and Gatwick from £109; and Olympic Airlines (0870 606 0460, www.olympicairlines.com) flies from Heathrow from £129, and Manchester from £149, as does Hellas Jet (0870 751 7222, www.hellas-jet.com), from £96 and £112 respectively.
Where to stay: the Hotel Attalos (29 Athinas, 00 30 210 321 2801) is one of the better budget options in the centre, with rooftop cafe views to the Parthenon; doubles from £56. If you're doing things in style, it has to be the Grande Bretagne (Constitution Square, 210 333 0000, www.grandebretagne.gr), the city's oldest, most elegant hotel; doubles from £160. Or try the recently refurbished Electra Palace (Nikodimou 18, 210 337 0000), with a rooftop pool and views of the Acropolis; doubles from £161.
Tour operators: the Greece specialist Sunvil (020 8758 4758. www.sunvil.co.uk) has three nights, B&B, at the four-star Herodion hotel from £541pp, including flights from Heathrow and transfers. The Herodion is spacious and cool; ask for a rear room and it's as if you have the Parthenon in your back yard. A three-star option is from £462pp. Or try Thomas Cook Signature (0870 442 3897, www.tcsignature.com), Kirker Holidays (0870 112 3333, www.kirkerholidays.com), or Bridge (0870 191 7270, www.bridgetravel.co.uk).
Getting around: most of the things you need to see are in the centre, or within walking distance. And Athens has a great metro - it's not very extensive, but the stations are easy to read and the one on Syntagma Square is beautiful. Tickets start at 50p.
Best guidebook: DK Eyewitness Travel Guide: Greece £17.99
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