Everything was going to change at take-off.

Sitting in Terminal 1 of Charles de Gaulle and waiting for my flight, I couldn’t believe how closely I sat on the cusp of witnessing a place I had dreamed about for years: islands with white houses and blue waters, an indecipherable language, and an ancient history. I had never been to a place that could compare to Greece and for that reason, I had few clues as to what to expect. I was also about to see my parents for the first time in four months and begin the slow descent from life as a graduate student abroad to a young professional American who used to live in Paris…but Greece was waiting – why think about that?!

Have you ever flown on Aegean Airlines? Even on a three hour flight, full meals are served starting with a candy right before takeoff. The flight attendants are glamorous with beautiful up-dos or scarves tied in their hair, pumps on their feet, olive skin that glows and the ability to flit between two or five languages. Having never been to the 1950s or 60s, I like to imagine Aegean is a nod to those days of more enchanting travel.

 

When my plane landed in Athens, I was greeted by a man with a sign and after several long hugs, we set off on an adventure.

Taking the metro from the airport into the heart of old Athens city, we greeted Athens at dusk. With suitcases in tow, the maze of unfamiliar streets and street names proved to be a test and we grabbed a taxi whose driver promised we weren’t far. Riding through the tiny, windy streets of the old city quarter, Plaka, you can start to envision how centuries of evolution have brought Athens from the time of the Parthenon, which stood high above us, to our current day. The twists and turns in such a tight space felt almost like a theme park adventure ride; and when it was over, I wanted to do it again.

At night the old quarter of Athens is dark and quiet. Fresh gardenia wafts through the air everywhere while pink and purple flowers cascade over gates and walls. I didn’t think Paris’ narrow streets could be beat, but Athens takes them by a mile. A truth that becomes increasingly evident as you trip over sidewalks and cracks in the night’s dark streets. Old Paris simply can’t compete with old Athens. Looking up from the dark streets, the Acropolis looms above glowing; on such a high hill it is a ship floating on a dark sea.