The Acropolis

Is there a spot in this world where anyone with a beating heart surrenders to the idea that the Twelve Olympians still reign? Where Zeus throws lightning bolts and hunts for mortal beauty to sire a new legend? Secretly, to escape Hera’s wrath anew? Yes, there is! The Acropolis of Athens. Behold, mortals!

The January skies, like a scene from an antique tragedy, leave no doubt: It is Hera who pulls the strings today. What began as a lovely sunny morning quickly turns into a stormy afternoon. From the mountains, a gale sweeps toward one side of the Parthenon, though peace still holds over Poseidon’s realm. Perhaps the Lord of the Seas intends to raise a storm of his own a tad later.

But let me start at the beginning. January in Athens is superb indeed. Hotels cost a pittance, and the summer crowds are a mere phantom of the past. Even this legendary site is blissfully empty by its usual standards. Our walk from the apartment took forty minutes, and there was no losing our way. The ancient citadel reveals itself at every turn. How does such a sight imprint itself upon the spirits of those who grew up beneath its shadow? Or does it fade into mundane scenery eventually?

Twenty-five centuries of history, and marble worn down to the core. Water, sun, wind, snow. In the last hundred and fifty years, acid rain has become a far greater threat. But mostly, it is Man. Humanity's own worst enemy. The Acropolis would likely have survived the weather, but the sieges of Athens, and especially the blast from the Turkish powder magazine, nearly destroyed it for good.

What meets the eye today is, in fact, the world’s grandest jigsaw puzzle. Archaeologists hunt for shards of the original pillars to reassemble them. The old marble has changed color with time, making the patches of new marble shine a blinding white. The beaten earth of the past is covered now, even by concrete in places. Hundreds of statues of gods and deities have turned to dust. Yet, does any of this rob the Acropolis of its majesty?

The weather set the scene for a tragedy, and here stands the playhouse where it could unfold. The Odeon of Herodes Atticus still hosts performances from time to time. Not this year, though; the theater is under renovation.

Past the Propylaea, watched over by a feline honor guard, up a few dozen steps, and we find ourselves within the citadel. At last. Does the scent of roasting meat truly waft through the air? Is a lamb or a bull being sacrificed this very moment in some ruined temple? Is it but a breath of the distant past, an illusion, or merely the lunch menu from a tavern below the rock?

A view known the world over. The Parthenon. The Temple of the Virgin Athena. Speech is needless; one need only look with eyes wide open. Just try, if you can, to wish away the scaffolding.

The Erechtheion, humbler sibling to the world-famous temple, has its unique charm. In a sense, it enchanted my love and me more than the Parthenon. Is it because it stands apart? Singular, idiosyncratic? Maybe you will find your own connection there as well!

Even the views from the Acropolis captivated us, especially the sight of the weather under Hera’s command. Judge for yourselves!

However, closing time at the Athenian marketplace was fast approaching. Nothing remained but to leave the Acropolis and climb the Areopagus, the seat of the ancient court, and a perfect spot for dramatic yoga shots. And then? Hurrah, down into the city! But let’s save that story for another day.

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