✈️ A Journey Through Time: From the Hills to the Sea
Prologue
There’s something quietly special about waking up in a city far from home on the first morning of a new year. I’d gone to bed early around 10 p.m., woke briefly to the sound of fireworks and cheers, then drifted back into deep sleep. At 6:30 a.m., I finally opened my eyes to find slightly red, sleep-heavy eyes and—thanks to that—a surprisingly defined double eyelid in the mirror.
When I came down to the hotel restaurant around 8:30, we were the only guests. The locals were probably still asleep after a night of New Year’s celebrations. I smiled, thinking about the stereotype that Korean travelers are always early risers. And so began my first day of 2018—walking through Athens, among the ruins of history.
Temple of Olympian Zeus
Being New Year’s Day, the gates were firmly closed. I could only glimpse the colossal columns through the iron fence. Even from afar, the temple’s grandeur was undeniable. I remember thinking: The dwellings of gods are never bound by our human timetables.
Arch of Hadrian
The arch bears two famous inscriptions: “This is Athens, the ancient city of Theseus” on one side, and “This is the city of Hadrian, not of Theseus” on the other. But centuries of weathering have faded those words beyond recognition. Standing there, I could almost feel the weight of two civilizations—Athens and Rome—overlapping in this single monument, as if the city itself wore two faces.
Monument of Lysicrates
In the heart of the Plaka district stands a small, circular marble monument—once crowned with a bronze tripod celebrating victory in a dramatic competition. According to records, the wealthy patron Lysicrates erected it around 334 BCE to commemorate his success as a sponsor of the winning play.
Known as the “Lantern of Diogenes,” this monument is one of the best-preserved examples of ancient Greek choregic dedications. The elegant Corinthian columns and fine reliefs once supported a bronze tripod that has long vanished, but the structure still shines with a quiet dignity. For a moment, it felt like I was standing before a small yet enduring light of Athens’ artistic legacy.
Plaka
Most shops were closed for the New Year, leaving the narrow lanes silent and empty. Yet, that quietness revealed another side of Plaka—its true self, stripped of crowds and noise. It reminded me of walking through Bukchon Hanok Village in Seoul at dawn: peaceful, timeless, and deeply local.
Panathenaic Stadium
The entrance was ticketed, but even from outside, its beauty was overwhelming. Built entirely of marble, the stadium evoked the roar of ancient Olympic crowds. This was where the first modern Olympics took place in 1896—a bridge between ancient games and modern celebration. I stood there for a long time, thinking about how history circles back upon itself.
Philopappos Hill
The path up the hill was lined with orange trees, glowing under the soft New Year’s sunlight. I climbed to see the so-called Prison of Socrates. Scholars debate whether this was truly his cell, but the legend gives the place an undeniable presence. The carved chambers and rock-cut steps whispered stories of the past—and as I stood before them, I couldn’t help but think of the song lyric, “Socrates, what’s wrong with the world today?”
GPT’s Note 🏛
📌 Prison of Socrates: Although there’s no definitive proof that Socrates was ever imprisoned here, Plato’s Crito and Phaedo capture the spirit of his final days. Standing before this humble stone chamber, visitors often pause, imagining the philosopher’s quiet courage.
Monument of Philopappos
Ironically, I later realized I’d only seen the back of the monument. According to historical sources, Gaius Julius Antiochus Epiphanes Philopappos was a prince of the Kingdom of Commagene and a prominent figure in Roman Greece during the 1st–2nd centuries CE. His sister, Julia Balbilla, and the citizens of Athens built this grand marble monument after his death in 116 CE.
The two-tiered structure features reliefs showing Philopappos as a Roman consul riding a chariot, and statues of his royal ancestors above. Facing the Acropolis, the monument still stands proudly—a symbol of love, honor, and remembrance.
GPT’s Note 🏛
📌 Philopappos Monument: Erected in the early 2nd century CE, this tomb memorializes a man who bridged cultures—Greek, Roman, and Eastern. From its hilltop vantage, it continues to gaze upon the Acropolis, linking Athens’ civic pride to its eternal past.
Pnyx Hill
Following the walking trail, I reached Pnyx Hill—one of the best viewpoints overlooking the Acropolis. In ancient times, this was where citizens gathered for assemblies, where democracy was born. Today, it’s a tranquil place to rest and snack while watching the city stretch below. For a moment, I felt the present and the past merge in the same view.
Toward the Sea – Palaio Faliro and Glyfada
At last, I took the tram to Palaio Faliro, the nearest seaside district from central Athens. From there, I rode along the coast to Glyfada Beach.
As the sun began to set, the sea glowed softly outside the window. It wasn’t the Han River of Seoul or Haeundae in Busan—it was uniquely Greek. The winter sea here was deeper, quieter, and somehow more ancient.
Ermou Street & Byzantine Churches
Back in the city, I walked along Ermou Street, where the Panagia Kapnikarea Church stood like a relic from another time. This Byzantine gem sits right in the middle of the modern shopping district—a living reminder that in Athens, past and present coexist with ease.
Epilogue
On this first day of the year, I crossed from mountains to sea, from ruins to living streets. Walking through traces of ancient philosophers and emperors, I felt as if I too had joined their silent conversation. It truly was a “journey through time.”
🚇 Getting Around Athens: Metro & Tram Tips
The trickiest part of using public transit in Athens was reading the station names. Google Maps showed them in Greek uppercase, while signs in the actual stations used lowercase, making it hard to match them at first glance.
In Japan, I could recognize kanji from school. In Taiwan or Hong Kong, Chinese characters felt at least partially familiar. Most of Europe uses the Latin alphabet—but Greek? Those were symbols I’d only ever seen in math and physics textbooks. Seeing them used in real life as part of a living language was both confusing and fascinating.
Another surprise: there were no platform door markings to indicate where to stand. Passengers simply waited wherever they liked and ran toward whichever door opened. It was a little chaotic—but in the end, those tiny inconveniences are what make travel memorable.
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