Worlds Away

After 30 mins of serious contemplation, I decide not to throw a thong at my snoring bed bunk neighbour. I decide it would be a possible risk to perfectly good footwear. Nevertheless, in a cramped, oxygen depleted dorm in Athens, I can’t help but desire to suffocate the noises coming from the backpacker beside me.

By morning though, my simmering frustration evaporates amongst enthused thoughts of adventure. The summer air is already promisingly sweltering and sticky. On my way, a sweet and heady smell of leather mingles with the dust as I pass the old family owned shoe store, where many a celebrity has apparently stopped by. Gawking at the newspaper clippings and the kaleidoscope of coloured sandals I eventually move on towards famous Monastiraki Square.

Standing at the exit of my dented and cobbled street I am able to glimpse the Acropolis, its temples still impossibly white and grand. I’m in my own little world, strolling up through the streets lined with gypsies, pottery and Greek Island loofas. Unlike when I’m plugged into my iPod and a complete danger to myself however, this is different. This is a world of enjoying the cool but sporadic salted breeze off the Mediterranean Sea, pausing to gaze into various archaeology sites and lethargically wandering up the winding, dilapidated paths to the Acropolis. I take photos of everything and stop to admire the view from everywhere.

Travelling solo for the first time, there is no rush and I can fully appreciate the way the skyline seems perfectly divided into three: the light, watery blue of the sky, the drought tinged khaki of the mountain shrubbery and the creaminess of the flat roofed houses, white but smeared with dirt and grime. The suburban masses stretch impossibly far, an uneven sea of television aerials and washing lines. Yet, reaching the summit of the mountain, ‘Modern Athens’ is no more. One can only focus on the intimidating beauty of the hulking marble structures before you. Even amongst the babbling hordes of multilingual tourist groups I am utterly immersed within the ancient realm.

My fascination for ancient civilisations may indeed compound the site’s impact on me but every tourist here, no matter how tacky or decked out in long socks they may be, could mistake the feeling that this place is magical. I can’t help but get emotional when admiring the Temple of Dionysus, my favourite construction and only fitting seeing as he was the god of wine and drama.

At one point in history, this exact spot teemed with live Grecians, making tributes to the gods and oracles, debating the political qualms of democracy and contemplating philosophy. I feel almost transported whilst walking around the columns and rubble. Visiting locations such as this, a world within a world, reminds me of the amazing feat of humankind and the history usually just trodden over with footsteps. It’s a beautiful adventure when we finally appreciate it, even if it’s just a glimmering moment of true realisation.