From Syntagma Square to Monastiraki Square
1 Syntagma Square (Plateia Syntagmatos)
2 Tomb of the Unknown Soldier and the Evzone Guards
4 Hotel Grande Bretagne and Neoclassical Syntagma
PART 2: THE GREEK ORTHODOX CHURCH
7 Cathedral (Mitropolis) and Cathedral Square (Plateia Mitropoleos)
PART 3: ATHENS’ “OLD TOWN” (THE PLAKA AND ANAFIOTIKA)
12 Arch of Hadrian and Temple of Olympian Zeus
13 Lysicrates Monument and Square
15 Anafiotika
16 Roman Forum and Tower of the Winds
17 Agora Square (Plateia Agoras)
19 Monastiraki Square Spin-Tour
Athens is a bustling metropolis of nearly four million people, home to one out of every three Greeks. Much of the city is unappealing, cheaply built, poorly zoned 20th-century sprawl. But the heart and soul of Athens is engaging and refreshingly compact. This walk takes you through the striking contrasts of the city center—from chaotic, traffic-clogged urban zones, to sleepy streets packed with bearded priests shopping for a new robe or chalice, to peaceful, barely-wide-enough-for-a-donkey back lanes that twist their way up toward the Acropolis. Along the way, we’ll learn about Athens’ rich history, the intriguing tapestry of Orthodox churches that dot the city, and the way that locals live and shop.
The walk begins at Syntagma Square, meanders through the fascinating old Plaka district, and finishes at lively Monastiraki Square (near the Ancient Agora, markets, good restaurants, and a handy Metro stop). This sightseeing spine will help you get a once-over-lightly look at Athens, which you can use as a springboard for diving into the city’s various colorful sights and neighborhoods.
(See “Athens City Walk” map, here.)
Length of This Walk: Allow plenty of time. This three-part walk takes two hours without stops or detours. But if you explore and dip into sights here and there—pausing to ponder a dimly lit Orthodox church, or doing some window (or actual) shopping—it can enjoyably eat up a half-day or more. This walk is also easy to break up—stop after Part 2 and return for Part 3 later.
When to Go: Do this walk early in your visit, as it can help you get your bearings in this potentially confusing city. Morning is best, since many churches close for an afternoon break, and other sights—including the Acropolis—are too crowded to enjoy by midmorning.
Getting There: The walk begins at Syntagma Square, just northeast of the Plaka tourist zone. It’s a short walk from the recommended Plaka hotels; if you’re staying away from the city center, get here by Metro (stop: Syntagma).
Churches: Athens’ churches are free but keep irregular hours—generally open daily 8:30-13:30 and some evenings (17:00-19:30). If you want to buy candles at churches (as the locals do), be sure to have a few small coins.
Cathedral: Free, likely open daily 8:00-19:00 (closed 13:00-16:30 off-season).
Temple of Olympian Zeus: €6, covered by Acropolis combo-ticket (see here); daily 8:00-20:00, Oct until 18:00, Nov-March until 15:00.
Roman Forum: €6, covered by Acropolis combo-ticket, daily 8:00-17:00, shorter hours off-season.
Library of Hadrian: €4, covered by Acropolis combo-ticket, daily 8:00-15:00, possibly open later in summer.
Tours: 
Download my free Athens City Walk audio tour.
Dress Code: Wearing shorts inside churches is frowned upon, though usually tolerated.
Starring: Athens’ top squares, churches, and Roman ruins, connected by bustling urban streets that are alternately choked with cars and mopeds, or thronged by pedestrians, vendors...and fellow tourists.
(See “Athens City Walk” map, here.)
This lengthy walk is thematically divided into three parts: The first part focuses on modern Athens, centered on Syntagma Square and the Ermou shopping street. The second part focuses on Athens’ Greek Orthodox faith, with visits to three different but equally interesting churches. And the third part is a wander through the charming old core of Athens, including the touristy Plaka and the mellow Greek-village-on-a-hillside of Anafiotika.
This part of our walk lets you feel the pulse of a European capital.
• Start at Syntagma Square. From the leafy park at the center of the square, climb to the top of the stairs (in the middle of the square) and stand across the street from the big, Neoclassical Greek Parliament building.
Facing the Parliament building (east), get oriented to the square named for Greece’s constitution (syntagma; SEEN-dag-mah). From this point, sightseeing options spin off through the city like spokes on a wheel.
Fronting the square on the left (north) side are high-end hotels, including the opulent Hotel Grande Bretagne (with its swanky rooftop garden restaurant).
Directly to the left of the Parliament building is the head of Vasilissis Sofias avenue, lined with embassies and museums, including the Benaki Museum of Greek History and Culture, Museum of Cycladic Art, Byzantine and Christian Museum, and National War Museum. This boulevard leads to the ritzy Kolonaki quarter, with its funicular up to the top of Lykavittos Hill.
Extending to the right of the Parliament building is the National Garden, Athens’ “Central Park.” Here you’ll find the Zappeion mansion-turned-conference-hall (with a fine summer outdoor cinema nearby) and, beyond the greenery, the evocative, ancient Panathenaic Stadium.
On your right (south) is one of Athens’ prime transit hubs, with stops for bus #X95 to the airport, and the Athens Coastal Tram. Beneath your feet is the Syntagma Metro station, the city’s busiest.
Behind you, at the west end of the square, stretches the traffic-free shopping street called Ermou, which heads to the Plaka neighborhood and Monastiraki Square. (We’ll be heading that way soon.) Nearby is the terminus for one of Athens’ two tourist trains.
Take in the square and modern Athens: People buzz about on their way to work, handing out leaflets, feeding pigeons, or just enjoying a park bench shaded by a variety of trees. Plane trees, cypress, and laurel make Syntagma a breezy and restful spot. Breathe deeply and ponder the fact that until 1990, Athens was the most polluted city in Europe. People advertising facial creams would put a mannequin outside on the street for three hours and film it turning black. The message: You need our cream.
But over the last few decades, green policies have systematically cleaned up the air. Traffic, though still pretty extreme, is limited: Even- and odd-numbered license plates are prohibited in the center on alternate days (though downtown residents are exempt). Check the license plates of passing cars (not taxis or motorcycles): On any given day, the majority end with either an even or an odd number—depending on the day of the week. While car traffic is down, motorcycle usage is up (since bikes are exempt). Central-heating fuel is more expensive and much cleaner these days (as required by European Union regulations), more of the city center is pedestrianized, and the city’s public transport is top-notch.
• Using the crosswalk (one on either side of Syntagma Square), cross the busy street. Directly in front of the Parliament you’ll see the...
Standing amid pigeons and tourists in front of the imposing Parliament building overlooking Syntagma Square, you’re at the center of Athens’ modern history. Above the simple marble-slab tomb—marked only with a cross—is a carved image of the Unknown Soldier, a heavily armed dying Greek, inspired by the statue of a dying nude from the ancient Aphaia temple on the island of Aigina, very close to Athens. Etched into the stone on each side of the tomb are the names of great battles in Greek military history from 1821 forward (practice your Greek alphabet by trying to read them: Cyprus, Korea, Rimini, Crete, and so on).
The tomb is guarded by the much-photographed evzone, an elite infantry unit of the Greek army. The guard changes five minutes before the top of each hour, with a less elaborate crossing of the guard at :25 after. They march with a slow-motion, high-stepping march to their new positions, then stand ramrod straight, where you can pose alongside them. A full changing-of-the-guard ceremony, complete with marching band, takes place every Sunday at 11:00 (arrive a bit early).
These colorful characters are clad in traditional pleated kilts (fustanella), white britches, and pom-pom shoes. (The outfits may look a little goofy to a non-Greek, but their mothers are very proud.) The uniforms, worn everywhere in Greece, were made famous by the Klephts, ragtag bands of mountain guerrilla fighters. After nearly four centuries under the thumb of the Ottoman Empire (from today’s Turkey, starting in 1453), the Greeks rose up. The Greek War of Independence (1821-1829) pitted the powerful Ottoman army against the lowly but wily Klephts. The soldiers’ skirts have 400 pleats...one for each year of Ottoman occupation (and don’t you forget it). Although considered heroes today for their courage, outrageous guerrilla tactics, and contribution to the Liberation Army in the 19th century, the Klephts were once regarded as warlike bandits (their name shares a root with the English word “kleptomania”).
As the Klephts and other Greeks fought for their independence, a number of farsighted Europeans (including the English poet Lord Byron)—inspired by the French Revolution and their own love of ancient Greek culture—came to their aid. In 1829, the rebels finally succeeded in driving their Ottoman rulers out of central Greece, and there was a movement to establish a modern democracy. However, the Greeks were unprepared to rule themselves, and so, after the Ottomans came...Otto.
• For the rest of the story, take a step back for a view of the...
The origins of this “palace of democracy” couldn’t have been less democratic. The first independent Greek government, which had its capital in Nafplio, was too weak to be viable. As was standard operating procedure at that time, the great European powers forced Greece to accept a king from established European royalty.
In 1832, Prince Otto of Bavaria became King Otto of Greece. A decade later, after the capital shifted to Athens, this royal palace was built to house King Otto and his wife, Queen Amalia. The atmosphere was tense. After fighting so fiercely for its independence from the Ottomans, the Greeks now chafed under royal rule from a dictatorial Bavarian monarch. The palace’s over-the-top luxury only angered impoverished locals.
On September 3, 1843, angry rioters gathered in the square to protest, demanding a democratic constitution. King Otto stepped onto the balcony of this building, quieted the mob, and gave them what they wanted. The square was dubbed Syntagma (Constitution), and modern Athens was born. The former royal palace has been the home of the Greek parliament since 1935. Today this is where 300 Greek parliamentarians (elected to four-year terms) tend to the business of the state—or, as more cynical locals would say, become corrupt and busily get themselves set up for their cushy, post-political lives.
By the time of the Greek War of Independence (1821-1829), Athens had declined, becoming little more than a rural backwater on the fringes of the Ottoman Empire. Its population had shrunk to about 2,000 people occupying a cluster of red-tiled Turkish houses on the northern side of the Acropolis (the area now known as the Plaka).
When it came to choosing a capital for the new nation, Athens wasn’t even considered. The first choice was Nafplio on the Peloponnese, which the Ottomans had also favored as a seat of government. It would probably have stayed that way, if it weren’t for the assassination of Greece’s first president, Ioannis Kapodistrias, in 1831. His death led to international pressure to install an outsider, 17-year-old Prince Otto of Bavaria, as the first king of Greece.
Otto was as wet behind the ears as any teenager, and was heavily influenced by his forceful father, King Ludwig I of Bavaria (grandfather of “Mad” King Ludwig, of Neuschwanstein Castle fame). These Bavarians—great admirers of classical Athens—insisted that the city become the capital in 1834. They also were responsible for the shape of the new Athens, ferrying in teams of Bavarian architects to create a plan of broad avenues and grand Neoclassical buildings—much as they had done in Munich.
The character of Athens changed once more after 1922, when the defeat of the occupying Greek army in Turkey resulted in a forced population exchange between the two rivals. Athens’ population doubled almost overnight, and any thought of town planning went out the window as authorities scrambled to build cheap apartment blocks to house the newcomers.
Greece’s belated industrialization in the 1950s, coupled with the hard times of the Nazi occupation and civil war (when villagers, who could no longer afford to feed themselves, flocked to the city), sparked a wave of migration from rural areas. It’s amazing to think that the city with less than a million inhabitants in 1950 now has about four million. The trend continues to this day: More than a third of Greece’s population now lives in greater Athens.
When they hosted the Olympic Games in 2004, the Greeks turned over a new leaf and discovered a passion for city planning. Improvements in infrastructure, public transportation, and an overall beautification program quickly pulled the city up to snuff, making it an increasingly attractive tourist destination.
• Cross back to the heart of Syntagma Square, and focus on the grand building fronting its north side.
Imagine the original Syntagma Square (which was on the outskirts of town in the early 19th century): a big front yard for the new royal palace, with the country’s influential families building mansions around it. Surviving examples of 19th-century architecture—as well as more modern buildings renovated in a neo-Neoclassical style so they’d fit in—include Hotel Grande Bretagne, the adjacent Hotel King George Palace, the Zappeion in the National Garden (not visible from here), and the stately architecture lining Vasilissis Sofias avenue behind the palace (now embassies and museums).
Many of these grand buildings date from Athens’ Otto-driven Neoclassical makeover. Eager to create a worthy capital for Greece, Otto imported teams of Bavarian architects to draft a plan of broad avenues and grand buildings in what they imagined to be the classical style. This “Neoclassical” look is symmetrical and geometrical, with pastel-colored buildings highlighted in white trim. The windows are rectangular, flanked by white Greek half-columns (pilasters), fronted by balconies, and topped with cornices. Many of the buildings are also framed at the top with cornices. As you continue on this walk, notice not only the many Neoclassical buildings, but also the more modern buildings that try to match the same geometric lines.
Syntagma Square is also worth a footnote in American Cold War history. In December 1944, Greek communists demonstrated here, inducing the US to come to the aid of the Greek government. This became the basis (in 1947) for the Truman Doctrine, which pledged US aid to countries fighting communism and helped shape American foreign policy for the next 50 years.
• Head down to the bottom of Syntagma (directly across from the Parliament). Stroll down the traffic-free street near the McDonald’s.
The pedestrian mall called Ermou (air-MOO) leads from Syntagma down through the Plaka to Monastiraki, then continues westward to the ancient Keramikos Cemetery and the Gazi district. Not long ago, this street epitomized all that was terrible about Athens: lousy building codes, tacky neon signs, double-parked trucks, and noisy traffic. When Ermou was first pedestrianized in 2000, merchants were upset. Now they love the ambience created as countless locals stroll through what has become a people-friendly shopping zone.
This has traditionally been the street of women’s shops. However, these days Ermou is dominated by international chain stores, which appeal to young Athenians but turn off older natives, who lament the lack of local flavor. For authentic, hole-in-the-wall shopping, many Athenians prefer the streets just to the north, such as Perikleous, Lekka, and Kolokotroni.
Even so, this people-crammed boulevard is a pleasant place for a wander. Do just that, proceeding gradually downhill and straight ahead for eight short blocks. As you window-shop, notice that some of Ermou’s department stores are housed in impressive Neoclassical mansions. Talented street performers provide an entertaining soundtrack. All of Athens walks along here: businesspeople, teenagers texting on iPhones, Orthodox priests stroking their beards, activists gathering signatures, illegal vendors who sweep up their wares and scurry when they see police, and, of course, tourists. Keep an eye out for vendors selling various snacks—including pretzel-like sesame rings called koulouri and slices of fresh coconut.
After seven blocks, on the right (in front of Forever 21), look for the little book wagon selling cheap lit. You’ll likely see colorful, old-fashioned alphabet books (labeled aλφabhtapio, alphabetario), which have been reprinted for nostalgic older Greeks. The English word “alphabet” comes from the first two Greek letters (alpha, beta).
• Continue one more block down Ermou to begin...
This part of our walk introduces you to the Orthodox faith of Greece, including stops at three different churches. The Greek faith is one denomination of Eastern Orthodox Christianity; for more information on its history and rituals, see the sidebar later in this chapter.
• Stranded in the middle of both Ermou street and the commercial bustle of the 21st century is a little medieval church.
After the ancient Golden Age, but before Otto and the Ottomans, Athens was part of the Byzantine Empire (A.D. 323-1453). In the 11th and 12th centuries, Athens boomed, and several Eastern Orthodox churches like this one were constructed.
In the fourth century A.D., the Roman Empire split in half, dividing Eastern Europe and the Balkan Peninsula down the middle. Seven centuries later, with the Great Schism, the Christian faith diverged along similar lines, into two separate branches: Roman Catholicism in the west (based in Rome and including most of Western and Central Europe), and Eastern or Byzantine Orthodoxy in the east (based in Constantinople—today’s Istanbul—and prevalent in far-eastern Europe, Russia, the eastern half of the Balkan Peninsula, and Greece). The root orthos is Greek for “right,” and dogma is “faith,” making orthodoxy the “right belief.” And it seems logical that if you’ve already got it right, you’re more conservative and resistant to change.
Over the centuries the Catholic Church shed old traditions and developed new ones. Meanwhile, the Eastern Orthodox Church—which remained consolidated under the stable and wealthy Byzantine Empire—stayed true to the earliest traditions of the Christian faith. Today, rather than having one centralized headquarters (such as the Vatican for Catholicism), the Eastern Orthodox Church is divided into about a dozen regional branches that remain administratively independent but share the same rituals. Some branches include the Russian Orthodox Church, the Serbian Orthodox Church, the Bulgarian Orthodox Church, and the Greek Orthodox Church, which is based at Athens’ cathedral. The Greek constitution recognizes Orthodox Christianity as the “prevailing” religion of Greece. The Archbishop of Athens is Greece’s “pope.”
The doctrine of Catholic and Orthodox churches remains very similar, but many of the rituals are different. As you enter any Greek Orthodox church, you can join in the standard routine: Drop a coin in the wooden box, pick up a candle, say a prayer, light the candle, and place it in the candelabra. Make the sign of the cross and kiss the icon.
Where’s the altar? Orthodox churches come with an altar screen covered with curtains and icons (the “iconostasis”). The standard design of the iconostasis calls for four icons flanking the central door, with Jesus to the right, John the Baptist to Jesus’ right, Mary and the Baby Jesus on the left, and an icon featuring the saint or event that the church is dedicated to on the far left.
This iconostasis divides the lay community from the priests—the material world from the spiritual one. Following Old Testament Judeo-Christian tradition, the Bible is kept on the altar behind the iconostasis. The spiritual heavy lifting takes place behind the iconostasis, where the priests symbolically turn bread and wine into the body and blood of Jesus. Then they open the doors or curtains and serve the Eucharist to their faithful flock—spooning the wine from a chalice while holding a cloth under each chin so as not to drop any on the floor.
Notice that there are few (if any) pews. Worshippers stand through the service as a sign of respect (though some older parishioners sit on the seats along the walls). Traditionally, women stand on the left side, men on the right (equal distance from the altar, to represent that all are equal before God).
The Orthodox faith tends to use a Greek cross, with four equal arms (like a plus sign, sometimes inside a circle), which focuses on God’s perfection. The longer Latin cross, more typically used by Catholics, more literally evokes the Crucifixion, emphasizing Jesus’ death and sacrifice. This also extends to the floor plans of church buildings: Many Orthodox churches have Greek-cross floor plans rather than the elongated nave-and-transept designs that are common in Western Europe.
Unlike many Catholic church decorations, Orthodox icons (golden paintings of saints) are not intended to be lifelike. Packed with intricate symbolism and often cast against a shimmering golden background, they’re meant to remind viewers of the metaphysical nature of Jesus and the saints rather than their physical form, which is considered irrelevant. You’ll almost never see statues, which are thought to overemphasize the physical world—and, to Orthodox people, feel a little too close to the forbidden worship of graven images.
Most Eastern Orthodox churches have at least one mosaic or painting of Christ in a standard pose—as Pantocrator, a Greek word meaning “Ruler of All.” The image, so familiar to Orthodox Christians, shows Christ as King of the Universe, facing directly out, with penetrating eyes. Behind him is a halo divided by a cross, with the bottom arm of the cross hidden behind Christ—an Orthodox symbol for the Crucifixion, hinting of the Resurrection and salvation that follow.
Orthodox services generally involve chanting (a dialogue that goes back and forth between the priest and the congregation), and the church is filled with the evocative aroma of incense, combining to heighten the experience for the worshippers. While many Catholic and Protestant services tend to be more of a theoretical and rote covering of basic religious tenets (come on—don’t tell me you understand every phrase in the Nicene Creed), Orthodox services are about creating a religious experience. Each of these elements does its part to help the worshipper transcend the physical world and enter into communion with the spiritual one.
The Church of Kapnikarea is a classic 11th-century Byzantine church. Notice that it’s square and topped with a central dome. Telltale signs of a Byzantine church include tall arches over the windows, stones surrounded by a frame of brick and mortar, and a domed cupola with a cross on top. The large white blocks are scavenged from other, earlier monuments (also typical of Byzantine churches from this era). Over the door is a mosaic of glass and gold leaf, which, though modern, is made in the traditional Byzantine style.
Inside the Church: Notice the Greek-cross floor plan and the early 20th-century, modern-yet-still-medieval art. It’s decorated with standing candelabras, hanging lamps, tall arches, a wooden pulpit, and a few chairs. If you wish, you can do as the Greeks do and follow the standard candle-buying, icon-kissing ritual. The icon displayed closest to the door gets changed with the church calendar. You may notice lipstick smudges on the protective glass and a candle-recycling box behind the candelabra.
Look up into the central dome, lit with windows, which symbolizes heaven. Looking back down is the face of Jesus, the omnipotent Pantocrator God blessing us on Earth. He holds a Bible in one hand and blesses us with the other. On the walls are iconic murals of saints. Notice the focus on the eyes, which are considered a mirror of the soul and a symbol of its purity.
• From here, head toward the Acropolis, downhill on Kapnikareas street (straight ahead as you leave the church, or to the left as you come down Ermou street). Go two blocks to the traffic-free Pandrossou shopping street. Turn left and walk up the pedestrian street to the cathedral.
Built from 1842 to 1862, this “metropolitan church” (as the Greek Orthodox call their cathedrals) is the most important in Athens, which makes it the head church of the Greek Orthodox faith. The cathedral was under scaffolding for many years after sustaining damage in a 1999 earthquake, but now it’s all spiffed up and gleaming.
Inside the Cathedral: The cathedral is vast, dimly lit, and carries a mysterious majesty. You’ll notice many of the same features you saw in the little church up the street. Candles and lipstick-smudged icons. No pews. Ethereal depictions of saints. And a big, white-marble iconostasis, with elaborate golden doors, separating the spiritual world from our material world.
Stand back and observe the ritual: Locals enter and buy candles at the self-service kiosks just inside the door. They light them in nearby bronze candelabras, and kiss their choice of icons. The pieces of paper (by the wooden icon frame on the right side of the main aisle) are written prayers, left by the faithful.
Head up the right aisle as far as you can. Looking high up at the underside of the dome, you’ll see a depiction of Christ Pantocrator—a much bigger version of the theme we saw in the last church. As you pan back down, notice the balconies lining the nave. Traditionally, women worshipped apart from men in the balconies upstairs. But after women got the vote in Greece in 1952, they’ve been able to worship in the prime, ground-floor real estate alongside the men.
On the Square: Back outside, find the statue facing the cathedral. This was erected by Athens’ Jewish community as thanks to Archbishop Damaskinos (1891-1949), the rare Christian leader who stood up to the Nazis during the occupation of Greece. At great personal risk, Damaskinos formally spoke out against the Nazi occupiers on behalf of the Greek Jews he saw being deported to concentration camps. When a Nazi commander threatened to put Damaskinos before a firing squad, the archbishop defiantly countered that he should be hanged instead, in good Orthodox tradition. After the occupation, Damaskinos served as regent and then prime minister of Greece until the king returned from exile.
Here Damaskinos is depicted wearing the distinctive hat of an archbishop (a kind of fez with cloth hanging down the sides). He carries a staff and blesses with his right hand, making a traditional Orthodox sign of the cross, touching his thumb to his ring finger. This gesture forms the letters ICXC, the first and last letters of the Greek name for Jesus Christ (ΙΗΣΟΥΣ ΧΡΙΣΤΟΣ—traditionally C was substituted for Σ). Make the gesture yourself with your right hand. Touch the tip of your thumb to the tip of your ring finger and check it out: Your pinkie forms the I, your slightly crossed index and middle fingers are the X, and your thumb and ring finger make a double-C. Jesus Christ, that’s clever. If you were a priest, you’d make the sign of the cross three times, to symbolize the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.
The double-headed eagle that hangs around Damaskinos’ neck is an important symbol of the Orthodox faith. It evokes the Byzantine Empire, during which Orthodox Christianity was at its peak as the state religion. Appropriately, the eagle’s twin heads have a double meaning: The Byzantine Emperor was both the secular and spiritual leader of his realm, which exerted its influence over both East and West. (Historically, any power that wanted to be considered the successor of the ancient Roman Emperor—including the Holy Roman Empire and the Austro-Hungarian Empire—has appropriated this symbol.)
Hiding against the back wall, behind Damaskinos’ right shoulder, is another statue—one of a warrior holding a sword. This is Emperor Constantine XI Palaeologus (1404-1453), the final ruler of the Byzantine Empire. He was killed defending Constantinople from the invading Ottomans, led by Mehmet the Conqueror. Considered the “last Greek king” and an unofficial saint, Constantine XI’s death marked the ascension of the Ottomans as overlords of the Greeks for nearly four centuries. On his boots and above his head, you’ll see the double-headed eagle again.
• The small church tucked behind the right side of the cathedral is the...
A favorite of local church connoisseurs, the late-12th-century Church of Agios Eleftherios (St. Eleutherius) is also known as Panaghia Ghorghoepikoos (“Virgin Mary, quick to answer prayers”) and is sometimes referred to as “the old cathedral.” It was used by the archbishops of Athens after the Ottomans evicted them from the church within the Parthenon. It’s a jigsaw-puzzle hodgepodge of B.C. and A.D. adornments (and even tombstones) from earlier buildings. For example, the carved marble reliefs above the door were scavenged from the Ancient Agora in the 12th century. They are part of a calendar of ancient Athenian festivals, thought to have been carved in the second century A.D. The frieze running along the top of the building depicts a B.C. procession.
Later, Christians added their own symbols to the same panels, making the church a treasure trove of medieval symbolism. There are different kinds of crosses (Maltese, Latin, double) as well as carved rosettes, stars, flowers, and griffins feeding on plants and snakes. Walk around the entire exterior. Then step inside to sample unadorned 12th-century Orthodox simplicity.
• Exit the church, go up to the main sidewalk level, and walk around to the back side of the church where you’ll find a religious gear shop and the start of...
This neighborhood is a hive of activity for Orthodox clerics. The priests dress all in black, wear beards, and don those fez-like hats. Despite their hermetic look, most priests are husbands, fathers, and well-educated pillars of the community, serving as counselors and spiritual guides to Athens’ cosmopolitan populace.
Notice the stores. Just behind and facing the little church is the shop of the Theodoropoulos family—whose name manages to use nearly every Greek character available (ΘEOΔΩPOΠOYΛOΣ). They’ve been tailoring priestly robes since 1907.
This is the first of many religious objects stores that line the street. Facing this, turn right, cross Apollonos street, and continue exploring the shops of Agia Filotheis street. The Orthodox religion comes with ample paraphernalia: icons, gold candelabras, hanging lamps, incense burners, oil lamps, chalices, various crosses, and gold objects worked in elaborate repoussé design.
Pop into the stoa (arcades) at #17 (on the left) to see workshops of the artisans who make these objects—painters creating or restoring icons in the traditional style, tailors making bishops’ hats and robes, and carvers making little devotional statuettes.
A few more steps up on the left, the 10 Church of Agia Filotheis (named, like the street, for a patron of Athens—St. Philothei) is adjacent to an office building (at #19) that serves as the headquarters for the Greek Orthodox Church. Athenians come here to file the paperwork to make their marriages (and divorces) official.
• Just a few steps up the street from here begins...
This part of our walk explores the atmospheric twisty lanes of old Athens. Remember, back before Athens became Greece’s capital in the early 1800s, the city was a small town, consisting of little more than what we’ll see here.
• Continue up Agia Filotheis street until you reach a tight five-way intersection. The street that runs ahead and to your right (labeled AΔPIANOY)—choked with souvenir stands and tourists—is our next destination. Look uphill and downhill along...
This intersection may be the geographical (if not atmospheric) center of the neighborhood called the Plaka. Touristy Adrianou street is a main pedestrian drag that cuts through the Plaka, running roughly east–west from Monastiraki to here. Adrianou offers the full gauntlet of Greek souvenirs: worry beads, sea sponges, olive products, icons, carpets, jewelry, sandals, knock-off vases and Greek statues, profane and tacky T-shirts, and on and on. It also has plenty of cafés for tourists seeking a place to sit and rest their weary feet.
• Bear left onto Adrianou and window-shop your way gently uphill for several short blocks. Finally, the street dead-ends at a T-intersection with Lysikratous street. (There’s a small square ahead on the left, with palm trees, the Byzantine church of Agia Aikaterini, and an excavated area showing the street level 2,000 years ago.)
From here you can turn right and take a few steps uphill to the Lysicrates Monument and Square (and skip ahead to the section on the Lysicrates Monument). But if you’ve got more time and stamina, it’s worth a two-block walk to the left down Lysikratous street to reach the remains of the Arch of Hadrian (which you can already see from this intersection).
After the Romans conquered the Greeks, Roman emperor Hadrian (or Adrianos) became a major benefactor of the city of Athens. He built a triumphal arch, completed a temple beyond it (now ruined), and founded a library we’ll see later. He also created a “new Athens” in the area beyond the arch (sometimes known as Hadrianopolis). The grand archway overlooks the bustling modern Vasilissis Amalias avenue, facing the Plaka and Acropolis. (If you turned left and followed this road for 10 minutes, you’d end up back on Syntagma Square—where we began this walk.)
The arch’s once-brilliant white Pentelic marble is topped with Corinthian columns, the Greek style preferred by the Romans. Hadrian built it in A.D. 131 to celebrate the completion of the Temple of Olympian Zeus (which lies just beyond—described next). Like a big gate marking the entrance to a modern Chinatown, this arch represented the dividing line between the ancient city and Hadrian’s new “Roman” city. An inscription on the west side informs the reader that “This is Athens, ancient city of Theseus,” while the opposite frieze carries the message, “This is the city of Hadrian, and not of Theseus.”
• Look past the arch to see the huge (and I mean huge) Corinthian columns remaining from what was once a temple dedicated to Zeus. For a closer look, cross the busy boulevard (crosswalk to the right). You can pretty much get the gist by looking through the fence. But to get close to those giant columns and wander the ruins, you can enter the site (covered by the Acropolis combo-ticket). To reach the entrance (a five-minute walk), curl around the left side of the arch, then turn right (following the fence) up the intersecting street called Vasilissis Olgas. The entrance to the temple is a few minutes’ walk up, on the right-hand side.
This largest ancient temple in mainland Greece took almost 700 years to finish. It was begun late in the sixth century B.C. during the rule of the tyrant Peisistratos. He died before the temple was completed, and his successors were expelled from Athens. The temple lay abandoned, half-built, for centuries until the Roman emperor Hadrian arrived to finish the job in A.D. 131. This must have been a big deal for Hadrian, as he came here in person to celebrate its inauguration. Romans did things big. When completed, the temple was 360 feet by 145 feet, consisting of two rows of 20 columns on each of the long sides and three rows of eight columns along each end (counting the corners twice). Although only 15 of the original 104 Corinthian columns remain standing, their sheer size (a towering 56 feet high) is enough to create a powerful impression of the temple’s scale. The fallen column—which resembles a tipped-over stack of bottle caps—was toppled by a storm in 1852. The temple once housed a suitably oversized statue of Zeus, head of the Greek gods who lived on Mount Olympus, and an equally colossal statue of Hadrian.
• Return to Lysikratous street and backtrack two blocks, continuing past the small square with the church you passed earlier. After another block, you’ll run into another small, leafy square with the Acropolis rising behind it. In the square is a round, white, columned monument.
This elegant marble monument has Corinthian columns that support a dome that once held an ornamental vase on top. A frieze runs along the top, representing Dionysus turning pirates into dolphins. This is the sole survivor of many such monuments that once lined this ancient “Street of the Tripods.” It was so called because the monuments came with bronze tripods that displayed cauldrons (like those you’ll see in the museums) as trophies. These ancient “Oscars” were awarded to winners of choral and theatrical competitions staged at the Theater of Dionysus on the southern side of the Acropolis. This now-lonely monument was erected in 334 B.C. by “Lysicrates of Kykyna, son of Lysitheides”—proud sponsor of the winning choral team that year. Excavations in the surrounding area have uncovered the foundations of other monuments, which are now reburied under a layer of red sand and awaiting further study.
The square itself, shaded by trees, is a pleasant place to take a break before climbing the hill. Have a frappé or coffee at the café tables, grab a cheap cold drink from the cooler in the hole-in-the-wall grocery store to the left, or just sit for free on the benches under the trees.
• From here you’re only two blocks from the TI (on the pedestrianized street leading to the Acropolis Museum, at Dionysiou Areopagitou 18), so it’s handy for a visit. Otherwise, circle around the left side of the Lysicrates Monument, then head uphill toward the Acropolis, climbing the staircase called Epimenidou. At the top of the stairs, turn right onto Stratonos street, which leads around the base of the Acropolis. As you walk along, the Acropolis and a row of olive trees are on your left. For Athenians, the sound of the crickets here evokes the black-and-white movies that were filmed in this area in the 1960s. To your right you’ll catch glimpses of another hill off in the distance.
This cone-shaped hill (sometimes spelled “Lycabettus”) topped with a tiny white church is the highest in Athens, at just over 900 feet above sea level. The hill can be reached by a funicular, which leads up from the Kolonaki neighborhood to a restaurant, café, and view terrace at the top. Although it looms high over the cityscape, Lykavittos Hill will always be overshadowed by the hill you’re climbing now.
• At the small Church of St. George of the Rock (Agios Georgios), go uphill, along the left fork. As you immerse yourself in a maze of tiny, whitewashed houses, follow signs that point to the Acropolis (even if the path seems impossibly narrow). This charming “village” is a neighborhood called...
These lanes and homes were built by people from the tiny Cycladic island of Anafi, who came to Athens looking for work after Greece gained its independence from the Ottomans. (Many stoneworkers and builders hired to construct the modern city of Athens built these higgledy-piggledy residences after-hours.) In this delightful spot, nestled beneath the walls of the Acropolis, the big city seems miles away. Keep following the Acropolis signs as you weave through narrow paths lined with flowers and dotted with cats dozing peacefully in the sunshine (or slithering luxuriously past your legs). Though descendants of the original islanders still live here, Anafiotika (literally “little Anafi”) is slowly becoming a place for wealthy locals to keep an “island cottage” in the city. As you wander through the oleanders, notice the male fig trees—no fruit—that keep flies and mosquitoes away. Smell the chicken-manure fertilizer (and cat poop), peek into delicate little yards, and enjoy the blue doors and maroon shutters...it’s a transplanted Cycladic world. Posters of Anafi hang here and there, evoking the sandy beaches of the ancestral home island.
• Follow the narrow walkway until you emerge from the maze of houses and hit a wider, cobbled lane. Turn right (downhill) and continue down the steep incline. When you hit a wider road (Theorias), turn left and walk toward the small, Byzantine-style Church of the Metamorphosis. (Note: To reach the Acropolis entry from here, you would continue along this road as it bends left around the hill. For now, though, let’s continue our walk.)
Just before the church, turn right and go down the steep, narrow staircase (a lane called Klepsidras, with the sign for the Athens University History Museum). You’ll pass the first university of Athens (with a free little museum) on the right. Cross the street called Tholou and continue down Klepsidras as it narrows. Enjoy the graffiti. You’ll pass a charming, recommended little café a block before you emerge at a railing overlooking some ruins.
The rows of columns framing this rectangular former piazza were built by the Romans, who conquered Greece around 150 B.C. and stayed for centuries. This square—sometimes called the “Roman Agora”—was the commercial center, or forum, of Roman Athens, with a colonnade providing shade for shoppers browsing the many stores that fronted it. Centuries later, the Ottomans made this their grand bazaar. The mosque was built upon a church that was built upon a Roman temple. The mosque, one of the oldest and best-preserved Ottoman structures, survives (although its minaret, like all minarets in town, was torn down by the Greeks when they won their independence from the Ottomans in the 19th century).
Take a few steps to the right to see the octagonal, domed Tower of the Winds. The carved reliefs depict winds as winged humans who fly in, bringing the weather. Built in the first century B.C., this building was an ingenious combination of clock, weathervane, and guide to the planets. The beautifully carved reliefs represent male personifications of the eight winds of Athens, with their names inscribed. As you walk down the hill (curving right, then left around the fence, always going downhill), you’ll see reliefs depicting Lips, the southwest wind, holding a ship’s steering rudder; Zephyros, the mild west wind, holding a basket of flowers; Skiron, scattering glowing coal from an inverted bronze brazier, indicating the warmer winter winds; and Boreas, the howling winter wind from the north, blowing a conch shell. The tower was once capped with a weathervane in the form of a bronze Triton (half-man, half-fish) that spun to indicate which wind was blessing or cursing the city at the moment. Bronze rods (no longer visible) protruded from the walls and acted as sundials to indicate the time. And when the sun wasn’t shining, people told time using the tower’s sophisticated water clock, powered by water piped in from springs on the Acropolis. Much later, under Ottoman rule, dervishes used the tower as a place for their whirling worship and prayer.
• It’s possible but unnecessary to enter the ruins: You’ve seen just about everything from this vantage point. Don’t confuse the Roman Forum with the older, more interesting Ancient Agora, which is near the end of this walk. From just below the Tower of the Winds, head to the right down Aiolou street one block to...
This leafy, restaurant-filled square is the touristy epicenter of the Plaka.
On the left side of the square you’ll see the second-century A.D. ruins of the 18 Library of Hadrian (open to the public). The four lone columns that sit atop the apse-like foundations are the remains of a fifth-century church. The ruins around it are all that’s left of a big rectangular complex that once boasted 100 marble columns. Destroyed in the third century A.D., it was a cultural center (library, lecture halls, garden, and art gallery), built by the Greek-loving Roman emperor for the Athenian citizens. Notice how the excavated stones rest neatly in stacks awaiting funding for reconstruction.
• Continue downhill alongside the ruins to the next block, where Aiolou intersects with the claustrophobic Pandrossou market street (which we walked along earlier). Remember that this crowded lane is worked by expert pickpockets—be careful. Look to the right up Pandrossou: You may see merchants sitting in folding chairs with their backs to one another, competition having soured their personal relationships. Turn left on Pandrossou and wade through the knee-deep tacky tourist souvenirs. Several shops here (including one we just passed on Aiolou, and two more on Pandrossou) supply fans of the “Round Goddess”—a.k.a. soccer (each team has its own store). Continue until you spill out into Monastiraki Square.
We’ve made it from Syntagma Square—the center of urban Athens—to the city’s other main square, Monastiraki Square, the gateway to the touristy Old Town. To get oriented to Monastiraki Square, stand in the center, face the small church with the cross on top (which is north), and pan clockwise.
The name Monastiraki (“Little Monastery”) refers to this square, the surrounding neighborhood, the flea-market action nearby...and the cute Church of the Virgin in the square’s center (12th-century Byzantine, mostly restored with a much more modern bell tower).
Beyond the church (straight ahead from the end of the square), Athinas street heads north to the Central Market, Omonia Square, and (after about a mile) the National Archaeological Museum.
Just to the right (behind the little church) is the head of Ermou street—the bustling shopping drag we walked down earlier (though no longer traffic-free here). If you turned right and walked straight up Ermou, you’d be back at Syntagma Square in 10 minutes.
Next (on the right, in front of the little church) comes Mitropoleos street—Athens’ 20 “Souvlaki Row.” Clogged with outdoor tables, this atmospheric lane is home to a string of restaurants that serve sausage-shaped, skewered meat—grilled up spicy and tasty. The place on the corner—Bairaktaris (MΠAΪPAKTAPHΣ)—is the best known, its walls lined with photos of famous politicians and artists who come here for souvlaki and pose with the owner. But the other two joints along here—Thanasis and Savas—have a better reputation for their souvlaki. You can sit at the tables, or, for a really cheap meal, order a souvlaki to go. (For details, see the Eating in Athens chapter.) A few blocks farther down Mitropoleos is the cathedral we visited earlier.
Continue spinning clockwise. Just past Pandrossou street (where you entered the square), you’ll see a 21 former mosque (look for the Arabic script under the portico and over the wooden door). Known as the Tzami (from the Turkish word for “mosque”), this was a place of worship from the 15th to 19th century.
To the right of the mosque, behind the fence along Areos street, you might glimpse some huge Corinthian columns. This is the opposite end of the Library of Hadrian complex we saw earlier. Areos street stretches up toward the Acropolis. If you were to walk a block up this street, then turn right on Adrianou, you’d reach the 22 Ancient Agora—one of Athens’ top ancient attractions (for more, see the 
Ancient Agora Tour chapter or download my free audio tour). Beyond the Agora are the delightful Thissio neighborhood, ancient Keramikos Cemetery, and Gazi district.
As you continue panning clockwise, next comes the pretty yellow building that houses the Monastiraki Metro station. This was Athens’ original, 19th-century train station—Neoclassical with a dash of Byzantium. This bustling Metro stop is the intersection of two lines: the old line 1 (green, with connections to the port of Piraeus, the Thissio neighborhood, and Victoria—near the National Archaeological Museum) and the modern line 3 (blue, with connections to Syntagma Square and the airport). The stands in front of the station sell seasonal fruit and are popular with commuters.
Just right of the station, Ifestou street leads downhill into the 23 flea market (antiques, jewelry, cheap clothing, and so on—described in the Shopping & Nightlife in Athens chapter). If locals need a screw for an old lamp, they know they’ll find it here.
Keep panning clockwise. Just beyond busy Ermou street (to the left of Athinas street, behind the A for Athens hotel—which has a rooftop bar popular for its views) is the happening Psyrri district. For years a run-down slum, this zone is being gentrified by twentysomethings with a grungy sense of style. Packed with cutting-edge bars, restaurants, cafés, and nightclubs, it may seem foreboding and ramshackle, but it is actually fun to explore. (Wander through by day to get your bearings, then head back at night when it’s buzzing with activity.)
Excavations for the Monastiraki Metro station revealed an ancient aqueduct, which confined Athens’ Eridanos River to a canal. The river had been a main axis of the town since the eighth century B.C. In the second century A.D., Hadrian and his engineers put a roof over it, turning it into a more efficient sewer. If you have a transit ticket (required to enter the turnstile), ride the escalator down to see an exposed bit of ancient Athens—Roman brick and classic Roman engineering. A cool mural shows the treasure trove archaeologists uncovered with the excavations.
This walk has taken us from ancient ruins to the Roman era, from medieval churches and mosques to the guerrilla fighters of Greek Independence, through the bustling bric-a-brac of the modern city, and finally to a place where Athens’ infrastructure—both ancient and modern—mingles.
• Our walk is over. If you’ve worked up an appetite, savor a spicy souvlaki on “Souvlaki Row” or eat your way through the local and colorful Psyrri neighborhood (see the Psyrri & Central Market Walk chapter—the walk begins right here).