Before I’ll start however; Marleen is here. We’ve been roommates in Amsterdam and very good ones at that. She arrives the same day as I do, and we meet at the Airbnb right in the middle of the city. Spending time with somebody from home, a familiar face, is great. We chat about the situation in the house, my plans for the road, her plans for the future, and we obviously visit the Acropolis. We stroll around the weekend’s vintage markets, where we admire the piles of half broken junk and try to pick out the gems. We treat ourselves to a Hammam that fills almost half our day, and we see a drag-show. Athens seems like South East Asia at times; shops are spilling their wares into the streets, kiosks selling cigarettes, drinks and gum can be found on every corner, vendors are selling every part of every animal, fruit stalls colouring the sidewalks, and the relentless chaos and noise of an always clogged up stream of continuous traffic. Athens feels vibrant and alive during these last warm days of the year.

The architecture here I find fascinating for its homogeneity and apparent lack of a style. I guess white boxes of low rise flats with balconies is a style on its own. Somehow it works. The steep streets provide views trough narrow apertures between the buildings once you’ve reached their tops, seemingly always with either the mountains or the Acropolis in the background. Since there’s no space for gardens here, balconies are treated as such. Plans grow out of each and every one of them, taking over the balconies sometimes completely. It feels like nature is finding its way amongst the concrete. If you’ll ever find yourself wander around Athens, you’re sure to walk into a stream of water leaking from one of them, since most of these balconies have automatic irrigation systems. Now, in November, those balconies and their plans are fitted with Christmas lights, and sparkling festivity rains down from above just like the water from the irrigation systems.  

But it hasn’t always been like this. In his article “From elegant Neoclassical paradise to muddled concrete sprawl – how did the Greek capital come to look the way it does?”, Alex Sakalis, explains how trough three major waves of both internal and external immigration, Athens grew exponentially, sometimes more than doubling its amount of inhabitants in a matter of months. “The luxury of preserving Neoclassical architecture simply never entered into the equation.” Sakalis continues; “[…] a contractor would approach the owner of a house and offer him a deal. He would knock down his house, and build a block of flats in its place. In return, the homeowner would be given a certain number of flats (usually two or three), while the contractor would then make his money by selling the remaining flats to Greeks who were seeking accommodation.” Everybody was getting paid, and everybody was getting accommodation, all good. The government liked what it saw and imposed just minor regulations, but in general there was little oversight, nor did architects get involved. Generally, Athenians feel somewhat guilty, or at least sad about what happened to their once genuinely authentic and beautiful city. While I do understand that, I think what Athens is now makes for a pretty interesting architectural landscape as well. 

Read the full article here.

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When Marleen leaves, I check into a hostel and set out to find a job. That seems a logical first step in trying to build a life away from home. I’m an experienced barista and exploring the city with Marleen has gotten my hopes up. The Greeks love their coffee and Athens is riddled with a ridiculous amount of coffee places. I set my sight on the fancier ones, especially in the more touristy areas since I do not speak a single word of Greek. I stay at a hostel for five days, sending my resume around, and then follow them up with a visit. I hit about ten per day. The managers are often enthusiastic, and after those five days I have a pocket full of phone numbers and email addresses. I already imagine myself hanging out with my new colleagues, exploring parts of the city only locals know. Optimistically about the coming month(s), I book the same Airbnb I stayed in with Marleen, this time for a month. The landlord and I negotiate a respectable discount. From there I follow up with all the contact information, scribbled on post its and ripped off bill-paper, crumpled in my pockets. But their reaction is no reaction. Most of them simply do not reply, others all of a sudden say they can’t hire people who don’t speak Greek. Disenchanted, the amount of coffee bars I visit goes down significantly. Soon after I give up hope, and apply for a customer service job. It’s very easy to find one here, and within the same day I’m on the phone with one of the companies. We Zoom, I take some tests online, and then I have my final interview. It all happens within three days. But as I’m in that last call with the HR-rep, I think about my motivations. I wanted to meet some people here, create a new social circle – granted it would also be great way to wait out the winter – yet now I’m about to take a job that requires me sitting behind my computer for 40 hours a week, working from home. Whilst the man on the other side of the screen explains the company’s structure, I stop him; “I actually don’t think I want to do this.” Flabbergasted, our call is over about a minute later. I do get a break of luck. During this month the company I freelance for from time to time has a lot of work this month. In the end I break even.

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Without too much to do I just walk and cycle around the city. My sleep schedule changes rapidly. While cycling I enjoyed early mornings and even earlier nights, now, without much of a structure, I stay in bed longer at wake up late. Athens is a place that invites you to do so very much. Through a social ride organised by a local cycling legend, I’m actually able to meet some people. Yiannos for instance, a Belgian/Greek guy who just started a business handcrafting bicycle bags. He explains to me that what the coffee shop managers are doing is a quite Greek thing; they do want to help, and would’ve probably want to hire me, but even if they can’t they won’t say that to your face. It’s considered rude, and not very welcoming. What I also learn speaking to some of the Greek people I meet, is their dire economic situation. It seems like everybody I meet here has a plan to move to North Western Europe. Salaries are low enough here that with a pretty good job, working full time, people struggle to make ends meet, effectively rendering them immobile both physically and socially. When I explain to them that I was able to save up enough money to do a trip like this and simply quit my job to do so, both of those concepts seem alien. People here would not simply quit their jobs, nor are able to save. I’m humbled during those conversations and reminded of how privileged I am.

At the last moment, in the week before I get out of the apartment and have already booked a boat to Crete, I get offered a job at a bicycle & coffee place. It’s only for a day and a half a week, and therefore just not enough to stay. My plan hasn’t fully worked out, but I have enjoyed my time here. I have accepted the forthcoming cold of winter and decided to just deal with it. A little cold has never hurt nobody… right?

Even though my original plan for my time in Athens hasn’t worked out, I have enjoyed my time here. It’s a place that I’m happy to have stayed at for a little longer, but it’s also a city that draws out your energy. It’s hectic, incredibly loud, and the infrastructure is a joke at times, which makes moving around a hassle. At the same time it’s lively, and I have the idea that every waking (and sleeping) moment something is happening here. Still, I’m glad to be moving on. I’ve booked a ferry to Crete, where I plan to camp in the wilderness to counter my time in the big city.