WanderLost

Traveling to a country you’ve never visited before is a unique experience- a mixture of excitement, hope, and preconceived notions, the latter of which are usually instantly dissolved on arrival to make room for the real thing. I had been told less-than-savory things about Athens- mostly that it was an urban jungle and that its only positive attribute was the Acropolis- so I was wary and ready to hate it, but as I made my way through the city to my hostel, I found the feeling fading away, replaced with the usual awe and excitement of visiting a new city. My destination- the optimistically named Hostel Zeus- was near Monastiraki Square, near the Plaka district, and not far from the Acropolis itself. The streets were chaotic, filled with cars and people on bikes and signs in enigmatic Greek. A nearby open-air market gave the place a gritty, real-life feel that drew me in rather than repulsed me as expected. The air of the hostel’s street smelled strongly of spices, reminding me of a Moroccan spice shop I once visited, the pungence of saffron most notable.
Where I was pleasantly surprised by the city, however, I was amazed by the magnificent Acropolis. The manner of getting there- trekking uphill and through winding streets- felt like a pilgrimmage. Indeed, simply by looking at me one could easily guess my quest, and with the help of a friendly shopkeeper I arrived at the destination I sought. The climb up the hill offered small diversions- the Temple of Aesclypius, the Theater of Dionysus- appetizers to prepare one for the grand feast at the top, parts of which could already be glimpsed.
Though I arrived early, there was already a swarm of tourists- fellow pilgrims- making their way to the top. The line moved steadily, however, and soon I was in the shadow of the towering Propylaia, walking beneath its impressive columns and scaffolding, and at last emerging at the top of the Acropolis. There were no trees at the top- practically no vegetation at all- just dirt and ruins. But what ruins! True, the scaffolding kept my daydream-prone mind from wandering too quickly back to ancient times, but still- that was the Parthenon I was seeing, with my own eyes, its white columns impressive against the clear blue sky. I couldn’t help but feel a bit star-struck, especially when asking nearby tourists to take my picture in front of it. It felt like meeting a celebrity.
The nearby Erechtheion was just as interesting. Its most striking aspect is the Caryatid carvings. Everything on top of the Acropolis is tall smooth columns- except for the Caryatids, and for this they stand out even more. They are beautifully carved, the folds of their dresses falling at their feet, their faces, though time-scarred, expressive.
The top of the Acropolis also offers an amazing full-surround view of Athens, allowing one to appreciate the full immensity of the city- an ocean of white buildings from which a hill arises here and there, like the humps of sea serpent. Off to one side, something glints and sparkles- sunlight glancing off the Aegan Sea. Also visible from the top is the site of the Temple of Olympian Zeus- a patch of brown earth like a postage stamp among the modern buildings, the columns visible even from this distance.
It is difficult to descend from the Acropolis- not physically, but because it is so obvious and definite an end to your visit of the site. You have dallied in the place of the gods, among towering marble shrines, and now you must return to earth- to the dust and noise of the city below, to the reality of the tour bus and cruise ship, with only pictures to later remind you of the heights you momentarily attained, and even then could not appreciate fully.