The Amazing Acropolis Museum

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Gino and I have been to Athens twice before and have visited the Acropolis that many times, as well, so we decided since Kris and Nichole were off on their own, we’d skip it and instead spend our time at the new Acropolis Museum. It was a good decision.

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This enormous, modern building is a work of art in itself. Boasting 226,000 square feet of concrete and glass, this museum was constructed to house over 4,000 artifacts found on and around the Acropolis.

The adjacent building reflected in the enormous glass walls of the museum.

The adjacent building reflected in the enormous glass walls of the museum.

Hovering over the archaeological site of Makrygianni, this impressive structure sits on the ruins of ancient Athens from Roman and Byzantine times. Rather ironically, these ruins themselves were only discovered during the preparatory digging for the construction of the museum.

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As you walk along the wide, sweeping entrance, views of the newly discovered ruins below are visible through the clear glass floor. Excavations below ground level are on-going and you can see bits and pieces slowly emerging. Once excavation has been completed, this lower site will be open to the public to view close-up.

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Athens Acropolis Museum 3874

The edges of the entrance are lined by a railing and you can lean over and toss coins into an ancient well just below. Wanting to be sure to stay in the good graces of the ancient Gods and Goddesses, we tossed in a few coins ourselves.

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The Acropolis Museum cost $200 million to build, replacing a hundred year old museum that was stuffed into the base of the Parthenon. With five floors, it holds ten times the number of artifacts that the old one was able to display.  But probably the most important thing about the construction of this shiny, new museum is that it proves to the British that the Greeks now have an adequate and safe home for the so-called Elgin Marbles and to hopefully secure their return to their homeland.

In case you don’t know the story, two centuries ago, Lord Elgin, British ambassador to the Ottoman Empire at the time, ripped off (literally and figuratively) over half of the Parthenon’s friezes, along with numerous sculptures, precious metopes and pediments. For almost 200 hundred years, these cultural treasures have been held hostage in the British Museum. I was sickened to read that the body of a particular Goddess is in London, while her head remains in Athens. Similarly, the front part of a torso of Poseidon is in London while the rear part is in Athens.

Despite emphatic pleas from the Greek government, as well as from people around the world, for the return of this cultural heritage to its rightful place, the Brits have refused, claiming the Greeks had no place to store the items safely away from the deteriorating effects of acid rain and other elements. But now there is no excuse. To date, however, the Brits have been unyielding. For this reason, I will not visit the British Museum in London until these Greek treasures have been returned to their rightful owners.

After you’ve paid your entrance fee and wander a bit inside the spacious receiving hall, a wide glass-floored ramp leads you up to the next level. As you walk upwards, be sure to look down. Beneath the glass you’re walking on you can see displays of ancient artifacts, such as pots and small household items, which were found during the museum’s construction.

These are actual artifacts displayed under the glass floor. It's weird to walk right on top of them.

These are actual artifacts displayed under the glass floor. It’s weird to walk right on top of them.

Other floors are filled with statues and artifacts from the Acropolis and its immediate environs. The enormous, floor to ceiling glass plate windows allow unobstructed views of the Acropolis and the Parthenon just yards away. This provides for a unique experience. The Parthenon’s remaining friezes are set into position as they had once appeared on the actual Parthenon and as you walk around the perimeter of the display, you have a clear view of their original site gleaming from the top of the hill.

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In this display, the missing pieces of the panels that make up the Parthenon’s frieze are filled in with white reproductions, cleverly contrasting with the mellowed bronze originals. By including these stark missing pieces, you get a sense of the complete work of art while at the same time being reminded of what had been brutally amputated by the great Lord Elgin and his British cronies. It’s very effective.

The museum also has a huge, open café where we indulged in an iced coffee, resting our feet and sensibilities before further explorations. Stepping outside onto the wide veranda, we stood in the fresh air for a literal breather and gazed across at the Parthenon,  nothing between it and us but air.

The glass veranda floor made it look like we were standing on water.

The glass veranda floor made it look like we were standing on water.

One part of the museum houses the original Caryatids, which date from the 5th century B.C.E.

At the Erechtheion temple on the Acropolis, replicas of these amazing pillars in the shape of women stand in place of the originals which are now inside, safe from the caustic acid rain that in recent times has been slowly eating them away. You can watch how the originals are meticulously being cleaned up with lasers. Brilliantly, the operation is being carried out right where the fabulous monuments stand in the museum, so that even though they are being worked on, they are still available for the public to view.

I took no photographs inside the museum since it was not allowed. You will just have to go see it for yourself.

After thoroughly exploring this most impressive place, we returned outside, back into the warm Athens afternoon, pausing for a moment to collect ourselves.

Changing of the Guard

We were all waiting...

We were all waiting…

In the distance we could hear the horns and drums of a marching band, increasing in volume as they drew closer. Like magic, the main street became suddenly devoid of vehicles as the band came into view followed by rows of Evzones marching right down the middle in their flamboyant costumes, rifles resting smartly on their shoulders.

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Athens Guards 3812

Arriving at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, they all stood in place, but that is not to say they were motionless.

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As if in a solemn dance, dozens of Evzones moved in unison, lifting their legs high, holding them there in position a few seconds before lowering them, then brushing the ground with their pom-pommed shoes, forward and back. We could hear the swish-swish of their shoes.

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They lifted their rifles up high, then clacked the butts decisively on the ground. The band played while the guards executed their studied movements.

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Every so often, a soldier dressed in dark green fatigues walked up and down the lines of Evzones, inspecting their costumes and making small adjustments to wayward tassels or flipped up pleats, making sure every detail was perfectly presented.

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After the ceremony, the legion returned the way it had come — right down the middle of the street. We watched in awe until the last guard was out of sight and the last notes of the horns faded away.

The crowd dispersed and the road filled up again with cars as quickly as it had emptied.

We didn’t linger either. It was time for lunch. (Jeez, we eat a lot, don’t we?!)

Tomb of the Unknown Soldier

Syntagma Square, which I’ve already explained, is divided into two parts: one side is dotted with trees and benches, the other is a paved area at the foot of the parliament building and the Tomb of the Unknown soldier.

Tomb of the Unknown Soldier at Syntagma Square

Tomb of the Unknown Soldier at Syntagma Square

We were here this morning to see the changing of the guards. This simple ceremony occurs every hour, 24 hours a day. On Sundays at 11:00 a.m., however, the ceremony becomes a much more elaborate show.

A few tourists were already standing in front of the two guards that march back and forth in front of the tomb.

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The guards, called Evzones, are fascinating to watch, not only because of their perfectly synchronized movements, but also for their unique costumes.

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The outfit consists of a kilt-like pleated tunic and bulbous shoes with large black pom-poms, which remind me of clown shoes. (Remember those shoes I showed you from the flea market?)

Beneath the tunic the Evzone’s legs are clad in white woolen tights with a tasseled garter encircling them just below the knees. On his head perches a crimson, tight-fitting hat from which dangles a very large black tassel, looking more like a hank of thick black hair draping over a shoulder.

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Gino and a verious serious Evzone

Gino and a very serious Evzone

Tourists are allowed to take pictures standing next to the guards, but you may not touch them.

A peek through the window of the guard shack

A peek through the window of the guard shack

One of those ubiquitous Athenian dogs was lying lazily near one of them looking quite comfortable and maybe even a bit bored.

I told you these dogs are everywhere.

I told you these dogs are everywhere.

After the standard guard-changing ceremony was over, security guards started moving people back to make way for an even more elaborate spectacle. We could hear it coming this way.

Athens Flea Market

When I returned from my sunrise jaunt to Anafiotika, Gino, Kris, and Nichole were ready to start the day. There was a café just a block away and we stopped in for cappuccini and pastries.

Breakfast treats and coffees in hand, we straggled to a wooden bench near the Plaka and sat and ate right out of the bag. The city was still peaceful. It still hadn’t woken up much. We were easing into the day ourselves.

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After our open-air breakfast, we walked the short distance to Monasteraki Square. Off to one side of the plaza is the entrance to the Sunday flea market, indicated by a sign at the entrance to Ifhaistou Street. From here, this market sprawls over several blocks, with the nucleus at Plateia Avissynias.

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Athens Flea Market 3782

It is pretty much like any flea market we are used to at home, overflowing with antiques, junk, clothes, and oddball objects d’arte.

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I didn’t see anything I couldn’t live without. It was more fun to watch the people.

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Athens Flea Market 3793

Athens Flea Market 3787

Anywhere you go in Greece you’re likely to run across someone playing Backgammon.

Even at the flea market.

Even at the flea market.

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Meanwhile, Gino was rifling through stacks of shorts. He is always on the lookout for the perfect pair. Apparently, he was successful because he walked away with a bag containing two of them.

After we had scoured all the interesting nooks and crannies, we returned to Monasteraki Square where we descended into the Metro.

Look closely at these shoes. You will be seeing more of them shortly.

Look closely at these shoes. You will be seeing more of them shortly.

Syntagma Square was our next destination. Something special would be happening there this morning.

Anafiotika In The Morning

I set my alarm for 6:00 a.m. Being Sunday, the church bells started ringing at 6:45 a.m. Possibly they ring every morning at that time. No matter. I always like to hear them.

The Parthenon was radiant in the golden hour of sunrise.

The Parthenon was radiant in the golden hour of sunrise.

This morning I was on a mission. While the others slept, I crept out of the room and tiptoed down the steps and into the fresh, quiet morning. Turning towards the Plaka, I headed up towards the Acropolis where Anafiotika, a tiny enclave of whitewashed houses and narrow lanes, is tucked into the north slope.

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Built in the 19th century by immigrants from the Cycladic island of Anafi, it’s no wonder the cubic architecture of this singular neighborhood looks more Cycladic than Athenian. In fact, Anafiotika is still inhabited by descendants of those creative, and obviously homesick immigrants who constructed it.

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This quiescent “village” within the city offers a welcome respite from the hubbub of the Plaka just below it. I wanted to explore this little visited part of Athens before the greater city awoke, spoiling its tranquility.

Diligently following my not-very-detailed map, I was still unsure if I had arrived at Anafiotika or not. A woman was walking towards me.

“Anafiotika?” I asked her.

She pointed up.

“Epharisto,” I thanked her.

Responding with a quiet “Parakalo,” she put a hand to her heart. We smiled warmly at each other and went our separate ways.

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After following a curling pathway that led me further up the hill, I had no doubt I had arrived. It was as if I had been transported to a small Greek village.

I passed the sniff test.

I passed the sniff test.

No one was about. No one, that is, except two large dogs who growled menacingly as I walked down the lane towards them. But I wasn’t going to let two dogs keep me away from my explorations. I spoke to them soothingly as I approached and luckily they decided I was OK, sniffing my hands as I passed them.

Dogs, big dogs, are a common sight in Athens. They roam the streets around the foot of the acropolis, rambling through the Plaka sniffing for scraps at restaurants, and lounging beneath the trees after a scrounged meal.

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Snapping photos right and left, I clambered up and down the languid lanes and steep, whitewashed steps punctuated by brightly colored windows and doors.

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Some parts of this little neighborhood, however, are derelict and neglected. Once creamy walls now violated by jarring graffiti contrast against vibrant bougainvillea and potted plants. A dichotomy, this Anafiotika.

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At the top of the village, I rounded a corner and encountered a Russian family, clearly tourists. One of the adult sons — the only one who spoke some English — asked if this was the way to Anafiotika. I started to point to the stairs that would take them to the alleys below, but then motioned for them to follow me. I started off, but they stopped, indicating that we couldn’t go that way because there were two dogs.

“They won’t hurt you.” I told them. “They just bark loud. I just came by them and they were fine.”

We chatted a bit about what we had seen so far and where we were going next. They wanted to see the Temple of Zeus and peered at my map to get a lock on its location. Noticing one of the sons was wearing an Italia shirt, I told him we were going there after Greece. He nodded enthusiastically.

Remnants of some celebration still adorned the fence of this pretty house.

Remnants of some celebration still adorned the fence of this pretty house.

One of the pretty churches of Anafiotika.

One of the pretty churches of Anafiotika.

After an hour scurrying around this wonderful little place, I figured I’d better get back to the hotel. The others were probably ready to go.