I love Athens because it contains many cities within one city.
Rush to its little Paris, especially in rain. That’s Kolonaki. With its queer, little cafés, and its expensive boutiques. Walk a little, and you find yourself at the little Vienna, with the neoclassical university buildings, designed by an Austrian. Not far away, you find yourself again in France: Monmatre; that is, Exarchia. Hot chocolate in mismatched cups. A suspended bicycle, indoors. Friends from university. An ex you haven't met for ages. He looks a bit aged. Policemen eyeing you suspiciously. A street musician with a hat that has seen better days.
I love Athens.
Because you walk a few steps, and you find yourself in a completely different city. Cheap bookstores packed with books. Student eateries, where everyone can become your friend. Souvenir shops. Tourists that ask directions in French and are not surprised when you reply to them in their language. Free maps that you never pick up; if the pickpockets think you are not a local, they will never leave you alone.
Every other city combined: that was Athens for me.
And now that I live in a foreign city, I mind-map it according to Athens. My native city is pre-installed in me; every other city is translated according to Athens. A city is never just clean; it is more clean or less clean than Athens. A city is never quiet, lively, beautiful, or mesmerizing of its own accord, but only in comparison to mama Athens.
A purple, hypnotic city. Ancient wisdom and contemporary blues. A ticket to the underworld. No water. Dead rivers. Puppeteers. Restauranteurs ashamed to serve their grandmothers’ recipes. Passes that take you exactly where the city wants. A city that hugs you like a woolen blanket. A city where everyone connects with everyone or is about to connect. Noise, dust, dirt. A sunset so beautiful it can kill. A little sea on the side.
Mountains, curvy and feminine, around the city, protecting you in their wombs, creating cradles. And the sea glittering, silver and gold, from afar. A mermaid. A promise.
Or is it an enormous, cement monster that sometimes, from the airplane above, just before landing, you see and shiver from fear?
It might devour you in a single bite.
A silver, enormous monster that gave birth to me, devours me each time like a god and finally hands me off herself to another city, but without letting me go completely. Yes; wherever I go, Athens is present.
You can never leave Athens; that is the catch.
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