If you want to follow in the steps of the ancient Greeks, head to Athens and the Peloponnese, where the past is everywhere.
Kelly-Anne Taylor - 27 August 2024
We arrived late in the afternoon, the Athens sun still pounding the steep path up the Acropolis hill to the skeletally pale Parthenon. We sheltered in odd pockets of shade as our tour guide recounted historical tales – among the most intriguing being that of a Greek nationalist who, during the Nazi occupation, was ordered to replace his flag with theirs. In an act of defiance, he wrapped himself in the Greek flag and jumped from the heights. Despite the fall, and favoured by the gods, he survived.
Greece is the storied gift that keeps on giving. If you haven’t been recently, you’ll be pleased to hear it’s visiting our TVs in the form of Netflix’s Kaos, an epic tale of ancient deities set in the present day. What could be more entertaining than time spent in the screen company of Zeus, King of the Gods, as played by Jeff Goldblum? Quick spoiler alert: after discovering a wrinkle on his forehead, Zeus is reminded of an ancient prophecy predicting his downfall.
I can’t wait to follow a drama steeped in such myths and decadence. But I know it will only leave me more desperate to be enjoying the real thing, which I discovered last summer on a journey to Athens and around the landscapes of the Peloponnese. First port of call: the fifth-century BC Parthenon, commanding the capital. As we continued the climb that hot afternoon, we sidestepped cats bathing in the sunlight, delightfully indifferent to the stony ages surrounding them.
Image: Plaka Old Town Neighbourhood in Athens
We paused at the Odeon of Herodes Atticus, a theatre that still holds open-air concerts by the likes of Elton John and Sting. As we passed, staff were preparing for another event, their conversations echoing off the stones. The stairs on the ascent were moon-like in texture, every marble surface brilliant white in the day’s fading rays. The Parthenon stood grand against blue skies. The porch of the Erechtheion temple nearby was supported by caryatids – columns carved in the shape of a woman, standing with one leg bent forward, elegant, calm, noble. But these “maidens” are replicas – the originals are in the Acropolis Museum, for preservation’s sake. Except, that is, for one: the “missing sister”, taken by Lord Elgin in 1801, is now on display in the British Museum in London.
The Acropolis Museum is essential viewing. We spent hours observing supple sculptures of goddesses, with their rounded tummies and soft thighs. I was mesmerised by these “maidens”, towering over me at more than seven and a half feet, their presence otherworldly. The next day, Lycabettus Hill – and a climb to a viewpoint over the city. Endless clusters of cubic white houses and apartments spread out in all directions, eventually meeting distant mountains, whose looming presence feels protective, as though they watch over Athens and its patchwork neighbourhoods.
On a wander through photo-perfect Plaka, a central clutter of squares, steps and neon-pink geraniums in terracotta windowsill pots, the streets carried aromas of grilled meats, lemon and garlic as chattery tourists dined alfresco. Every restaurant was festooned with fairy lights in the reverberatingly warm night. Long after darkness fell, bars spilt onto the streets, and the pavements smelt like urban summer. Could Athens be the ultimate Mediterranean city?
As I walked back to my Airbnb in the grungy, hip neighbourhood of Gazi, I stumbled across an orchestra practising on a quiet street. Passers-by swayed rhythmically, smiles curling their lips. No one was in a hurry. Much later I found myself in a trendy bar, where expats and young professionals drank €2 glasses of cold, crisp wine and the night air hung heavy with cigarette smoke. By 1am I was ready for bed, but the city was clearly up for much more.
In Athens I’d found the perfect long-weekend destination – but I still had another week’s holiday ahead. I rented a car and struck out for the Peloponnese, the fig-leaf landmass of finger-peninsulas a few hours south of the capital.
In the medieval castle-town of Monemvasia I discovered a lingering peace, among the few sounds the quiet slap of the Myrtoan Sea against sandy-coloured stone walls. The waters were a rainbow of blue, so clear you could see schools of fish playing in rocky crevices.
Image:The Main Square in Monemvasia
I stayed at the Kinsterna Hotel, where the view of olive groves from the pool was mesmeric. At night, I dined under a cascading tree surrounded by bright-pink roses. A braying donkey accompanied the insect ensemble as I ordered chicken with seasonal vegetables from the hotel’s gardens (kinsternahotel.gr).
Even now I remember it all as if in Technicolor – that’s the thing about Greece. And with autumn on the horizon, I can follow Kaos on Netflix: something to warm to as the nights draw in, and I plan my next Greek odyssey, through a land that’s genuinely heaven on earth.
Greece is the storied gift that keeps on giving. If you haven’t been recently, you’ll be pleased to hear it’s visiting our TVs in the form of Netflix’s Kaos, an epic tale of ancient deities set in the present day. What could be more entertaining than time spent in the screen company of Zeus, King of the Gods, as played by Jeff Goldblum? Quick spoiler alert: after discovering a wrinkle on his forehead, Zeus is reminded of an ancient prophecy predicting his downfall.
I can’t wait to follow a drama steeped in such myths and decadence. But I know it will only leave me more desperate to be enjoying the real thing, which I discovered last summer on a journey to Athens and around the landscapes of the Peloponnese. First port of call: the fifth-century BC Parthenon, commanding the capital. As we continued the climb that hot afternoon, we sidestepped cats bathing in the sunlight, delightfully indifferent to the stony ages surrounding them.
Image: Plaka Old Town Neighbourhood in Athens
We paused at the Odeon of Herodes Atticus, a theatre that still holds open-air concerts by the likes of Elton John and Sting. As we passed, staff were preparing for another event, their conversations echoing off the stones. The stairs on the ascent were moon-like in texture, every marble surface brilliant white in the day’s fading rays. The Parthenon stood grand against blue skies. The porch of the Erechtheion temple nearby was supported by caryatids – columns carved in the shape of a woman, standing with one leg bent forward, elegant, calm, noble. But these “maidens” are replicas – the originals are in the Acropolis Museum, for preservation’s sake. Except, that is, for one: the “missing sister”, taken by Lord Elgin in 1801, is now on display in the British Museum in London.
The Acropolis Museum is essential viewing. We spent hours observing supple sculptures of goddesses, with their rounded tummies and soft thighs. I was mesmerised by these “maidens”, towering over me at more than seven and a half feet, their presence otherworldly. The next day, Lycabettus Hill – and a climb to a viewpoint over the city. Endless clusters of cubic white houses and apartments spread out in all directions, eventually meeting distant mountains, whose looming presence feels protective, as though they watch over Athens and its patchwork neighbourhoods.
On a wander through photo-perfect Plaka, a central clutter of squares, steps and neon-pink geraniums in terracotta windowsill pots, the streets carried aromas of grilled meats, lemon and garlic as chattery tourists dined alfresco. Every restaurant was festooned with fairy lights in the reverberatingly warm night. Long after darkness fell, bars spilt onto the streets, and the pavements smelt like urban summer. Could Athens be the ultimate Mediterranean city?
As I walked back to my Airbnb in the grungy, hip neighbourhood of Gazi, I stumbled across an orchestra practising on a quiet street. Passers-by swayed rhythmically, smiles curling their lips. No one was in a hurry. Much later I found myself in a trendy bar, where expats and young professionals drank €2 glasses of cold, crisp wine and the night air hung heavy with cigarette smoke. By 1am I was ready for bed, but the city was clearly up for much more.
In Athens I’d found the perfect long-weekend destination – but I still had another week’s holiday ahead. I rented a car and struck out for the Peloponnese, the fig-leaf landmass of finger-peninsulas a few hours south of the capital.
In the medieval castle-town of Monemvasia I discovered a lingering peace, among the few sounds the quiet slap of the Myrtoan Sea against sandy-coloured stone walls. The waters were a rainbow of blue, so clear you could see schools of fish playing in rocky crevices.
Image: The Main Square in Monemvasia
I stayed at the Kinsterna Hotel, where the view of olive groves from the pool was mesmeric. At night, I dined under a cascading tree surrounded by bright-pink roses. A braying donkey accompanied the insect ensemble as I ordered chicken with seasonal vegetables from the hotel’s gardens (kinsternahotel.gr).
Even now I remember it all as if in Technicolor – that’s the thing about Greece. And with autumn on the horizon, I can follow Kaos on Netflix: something to warm to as the nights draw in, and I plan my next Greek odyssey, through a land that’s genuinely heaven on earth.