Athens - Day 7

19 July 2025

Today I go home! 😔

Breakfast at 7 am with Silvia. Then I quickly packed up my remaining stuff, and all too soon it was time to say goodbye to my good friend Silvia. I have no idea when or where I will see her again, but I do know that I will see her again.

And then I was off to the airport, and before I knew it I was back home on 20 July 2025 morning, welcomed by my three faithful girls who announced my arrival back home to the whole of Petaling Jaya with their enthusiastic barks and (I suspect) complaints for temporarily abandoning them.

And then back to face another dreary day of life as usual back home. As if Greece never happened. As if all good things never happened.

Athens - Day 6 (Part 2)

18 July 2025

The theatre is grander, carved into the slope, a place where tragedy and comedy once unfolded beneath an open sky. How strange, I thought, that in this place both gladiators and poets performed for the same applause.

Then to the museum, which houses the excavation finds from all periods, including from Prehistoric settlements, Roman statues, mosaic floors and murals.

And then we were dropped off at Plaka, to wait for our next bus which would take us to Cape Sounion. There was time enough for lunch, so I walked around and finally settled on a restaurant that was serving fish, as I was in the mood for seafood (as always). Here the waiter asked, “What do you want?” – like I said, very direct, but they do not mean to be rude, it is just the way they are! I ordered grilled salmon and rice, which was so good! I complimented the waiter after I had finished eating, and he was so pleased he gave me a hug. There you go!

And then off to Cape Sounion! The road from Athens winds along the coast like a ribbon unspooling beside the Aegean, each bend offering glimpses of blue so bright it almost stings. The sea here isn’t gentle – it glitters like a blade. It is Poseidon's sea.

And then you see it: the Temple of Poseidon, perched high on the cliffs, white marble against the sky like a beacon or a warning. Even half-ruined, it commands the horizon. It stands where land ends, where myth begins, and where the gods (if they ever walked the earth) might still pause to look out.

Built in the 5^th century BCE, the temple once welcomed sailors home and saw them off again to war and trade and storm. Now, it welcomes us, travellers seeking something quieter. I walked slowly among the columns, worn smooth by wind and salt. Some still rise tall, fluted and noble; others lie broken at their feet. The names of 19^th century romantics are said to be carved into the stone – Byron among them, though I suspect the ancient wind pays them no mind as I could find no such carvings. Or perhaps I just wasn’t looking hard enough.

There was very little sound. Just the wind, and the sea below, endlessly folding itself into the rocks. I found a spot at the edge of the cliff and sat down, the temple behind me, the sky a clear, brilliant blue, and the sea shimmering as if a thousand stars were dancing upon the sunlight.

There’s a story, of course, about King Aegeus, who threw himself from this very cliff when he saw the black sails of his son Theseus’s ship and believed the worst. The sea still carries his name. I thought of that as I sat there – the grief of fathers, the weight of stories, the way Greece never separates myth from place. Here, the story is the landscape.

And then back to the hotel, a quick shower and down to meet Silvia and Kiyasha for dinner. We went to the same place we were at on Wednesday, as the food was really good, and more importantly, it was frequented by locals which means it had to be authentic. Unfortunately, we had a bit of a tiff about (of all things) communism! 🙄. But back at the hotel I gave Silvia a hug and asked her to be patient with me, as I truly did love her. I think we are ok.

Athens - Day 6 (Part 1)

18 July 2025

Today I have a trip to Corinth, and then to Sounion in the afternoon. I was alone, as Silvia wanted to walk around Athens especially to the Acropolis, and Kiyasha wanted to do more shopping and just walking around.

First stop (again) – the Corinth Canal. There is something strangely humbling about standing on the bridge above the Corinth Canal, between the Aegean and Ionian Seas. It’s not its size, though the vertical walls of limestone drop away so sharply they almost make you dizzy – but its boldness. A manmade wound in the land, dug through centuries of dreaming and delay. Periander imagined it in ancient times, Nero tried to begin it with spade and spectacle, and finally, long after emperors had turned to dust, 19^th century engineers completed the cut. Today, as ships creep slowly through the impossibly narrow passage, you feel the old ambition still pulsing there: to connect worlds, to force nature to yield to purpose.

And then we were on the road again to Corinth. On the way, we passed the ruins of an ancient Christian basilica, which had originally stood as a temple dedicated to Isis, the Egyptian goddess. Nearby, remnants of a medieval wall could still be seen – once part of a fortification built to protect the narrow isthmus of Corinth. The landscape was dotted with pine groves, once considered sacred to Poseidon and prized for shipbuilding, their tall, resin-scented trees swaying gently in the sea breeze.

A short drive away lies Ancient Corinth, scattered in sun and silence across a dry plain beneath the brooding heights of Acrocorinth, one of the largest and oldest fortresses in the Peloponnese. It was one of the greatest powers of ancient Greece, continuously inhabited from Neolithic to Byzantine times and founded important colonies like Kerkyra (Corfu) and Syracuse. Its imposing walls belong almost entirely to the medieval period. The fortress was connected with the history of Leo Sgouros, said to have committed suicide by jumping on horseback from the walls in 1210 in order to avoid surrendering to the Franks, who held the fortress until 1460, when it passed into the control of the Turks.

The Temple of Apollo rises first into view, stark and defiant with its seven Doric columns, their edges worn by time yet still upright, as though refusing to forget the gods. This Temple was never buried, it stood as always, where it is standing now, some 2,600 years old! I walked slowly through the ruins, the air buzzing with cicadas and history, my feet brushing against stone laid by Romans, by Greeks, by slaves and emperors alike. The craft here is Doric, Ionic and Corinthian. There was also what was left of the Temple of Hera (wife of Zeus) and remnants of the Temple of Octavia (sister of Augustus).

The agora, or marketplace, is vast, uneven, and alive with absence. In its day, it would have been deafening – merchants bartering, philosophers disputing, children chasing stray dogs through colonnades. I paused at the Bema, where the apostle Paul once stood to address the Corinthians. The judge was Gallius, who acquitted Paul for allegedly preaching Christianity to the locals. Gallius’ brother was Seneca, the Roman philosopher who was Nero’s tutor. The ruins are just stones now, but somehow they hold the shape of speech, of human urgency and divine doubt.

To my surprise, one of the most unforgettable spots was the public latrine. Smooth benches carved with tidy keyhole-shaped openings still sit in a row over a trench once flushed with water. I smiled, imagining the ancient chatter that must have filled that space – daily gossip, politics, maybe a bit of poetry or scandal, all discussed as friends shared a communal moment of relief. Civilization, after all, is built as much on shared bathrooms as on temples.

At the edge of the site, the path climbs toward the remnants of a stadium and theatre. The stadium is barely visible now, its contours softened by earth and time, but I imagined the pounding of feet, the cheers, the pride of competition. You can still see the stone starting blocks, with shallow footprint-shaped grooves carved into them to mark where runners were to place their feet before a race  an ancient version of the starting line (it used to be that you stood ready to run, not sitting down like nowadays).

Though the track itself is no longer intact, standing there offers a vivid glimpse into the athletic traditions of classical Greece, where speed and skill were celebrated alongside strength and strategy. Here I placed my feet on the marker just the ancient athletes used to do, and asked the guide to take my picture while I pretended that I was starting a race. But the monkey made me lose my poise when right before taking my picture, he commented that “Of course, in those days, athletes ran naked.”

Athens - Day 5 (Part 2)

17 July 2025

Above the temple, carved into the mountain, is the ancient theatre, one of the best-preserved in Greece. It could seat 5,000 and offered music and drama against a jaw-dropping backdrop. Even higher lies the stadium, once host to the Pythian Games, second in importance only to the Olympics.

Kings came here before battle. Cities sent ambassadors. Even Socrates is said to have received a message from the oracle declaring him the wisest of men. She never gave simple answers – her gift was to provoke reflection, often with double meanings.

Example:

“You will go, you will return, never in war will you perish” – depending on how you read the punctuation, it could mean exactly the opposite.

To stand at Delphi is to feel as though the air still hums with possibility. The mountain holds its breath, the stones lean in to listen. It is a place where time folds, and where mystery, rare in our world, still lingers in the wind.

Silvia and I stood near where the Oracle’s chambers would have been all those years ago (underground, we were not) and asked her our futures. We were both greeted with SILENCE. Silvia said the Oracle had gone on vacation. Just my luck.

Before leaving Delphi, we visited the museum, nestled just below the ancient sanctuary of Apollo, which houses some of the most remarkable treasures of classical Greece. Its collection brings to life the sacred site’s long history, from early votive offerings to masterpieces of ancient sculpture. Among its most celebrated pieces is the Charioteer of Delphi, a life-sized bronze statue famed for its serene expression and exquisite detail. There are also fragments of friezes, columns, and inscriptions, as well as offerings from cities across the Greek world, testament to Delphi’s role as a spiritual and cultural centre. With its elegant layout and breathtaking mountain views, the museum offers a powerful sense of connection to the ancient past.

Perhaps the most fascinating thing that I saw here was an ancient piece of music sheet – lines of ancient Greek (I presume) with what looked like chords above, just like how modern guitar sheets look like – you have the lyrics, and the chords above the lines. This is one of the reasons I like music so much – every time I play a classic on the piano, I am fully aware that the same song was played, or created, centuries ago by someone real, someone who had feelings, and thoughts, and dreams, and through his music, those emotions continue to live today. As if the composer is still communication with us today through his music, across plains.

Then finally we sat down to lunch, almost at 3 pm – we were all properly starving! Luckily the food was good this time around – bread with tzatziki, salad, pasta and chicken, and coffee and orange cake with ice-cream. Just nice for a very hot day outside, and with very good friends inside.

Athens - Day 5 (Part 1)

17 July 2025

“Know thyself.” – Inscribed at the Temple of Apollo.

Today we go to Delphi!

I met Silvia at 7 am, and we got ourselves a baguette and coffee from a nearby patisserie, and ate it just outside our hotel. Then we walked to the conference venue where the bus was picking us up. Kiyasha was there too, and I made the introductions. This would be a typical girls trip – how fun!

In ancient times, Delphi was believed to be the navel of the world – the omphalos, the very centre of the earth. According to myth, Zeus released two eagles from opposite ends of the world, and they met here, on the rocky heights of Phocis. It was here that Apollo, god of light, music, and prophecy, slew the great python and claimed the site for his oracle.

For over a thousand years, rulers, generals, and ordinary people made pilgrimages to consult the Oracle of Apollo, whose voice was channelled through a woman known as the Pythia.

Set against the cliffs of Mount Parnassus, the ruins of Apollo’s temple still command reverence. Six weathered Doric columns rise from a platform like the ribs of a sleeping god.

Inside, once, the Pythia sat on a tripod over a cleft in the earth, inhaling sweet, noxious vapours from the depths. In trance, she uttered riddling prophecies that priests interpreted for pilgrims. The guidance she gave – ambiguous, poetic, sometimes maddening – shaped wars, dynasties, and destinies.

The winding path that leads to the temple is called the Sacred Way, and as you walk it, you pass the remains of treasuries, votive statues, and inscribed stones left by grateful cities. Most famous among them is the Athenian Treasury, a jewel-box of Parian marble built to thank Apollo after the Battle of Marathon.

The path is steep, but the views and atmosphere are otherworldly. It is a pilgrimage in stone, winding through centuries.

Athens - Day 4 (Part 3)

16 July 2025

Inside the citadel, the path winds through Cyclopean walls, each stone massive, fitted without mortar. The ancient Greeks believed only giants could have built them – and honestly, I believed it too. Everything felt oversized: the ambition, the strength, the sorrow.

Then I stood before the shaft graves of Grave Circle A, where Schliemann unearthed golden masks and called one of them Agamemnon. Even though modern archaeology doubts that claim, the feeling remains: that you are standing above the dead who once ruled legends. There’s no gold here now; only dust, and ghosts. This reminded me of Percy Shelley’s poem, “My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings!”

I walked around the entire complex, and came across underground cisterns used for water all those years ago. I walked the ridge in silence. The wind picked up. In the distance, I could see the whole Argive plain: olive trees, roads, villages, lives being lived.

Below the citadel, I entered the Treasury of Atreus, the so-called Tomb of Agamemnon. The entrance is long, dramatic, like a ceremonial throat leading into the earth. Inside, the great beehive-shaped chamber swallowed me in shadow. No carvings, no words. Just perfect symmetry and silence. A place where someone powerful was buried, and everyone else was meant to remember. A cicada, now coming alive in Greece (after 17 years?) flew out of the tomb, almost like an omen of doom.

I stood there a long time. The coolness of the stone, the hush of the air; it didn’t feel like a tomb. It felt like a heartbeat, paused in time. I didn’t take many photos. Mycenae isn’t a place to capture. It’s a place to feel. And to leave, a little changed.

Then back to the hotel, and to await my dear friend Silvia who will be arriving from Slovakia today!

We met with much fanfare and warmth. I really missed her – my really good friend from across the globe, where we don’t always meet, don’t always talk and exchange weeks or months of woe that is life, but when we do meet, it’s like picking up where we left off. We walked nowhere, in search of authentic local food, and finally we found it – quite a hidden place in a corridor of the busy streets of central Athens, in Omonoia Square, a stone’s throw away from our hotel. A true gem, frequented by locals, with reasonable prices.

Here we had Greek salad, tzatziki, fried squid and fried spry. It was too much, we couldn’t finish. But we had a good chat, full of warmth, familiarity, friendship and love. She said she would join me tomorrow for my expedition to the Oracle of Delphi, and I was simply elated. To have a friend on the trip – a true blessing!

Athens - Day 4 (Part 2)

16 July 2025

But Nafplio isn't just beauty. It’s burdened with history, and proud of it. This was once the first capital of modern Greece, the site of fiery political speeches, royal proclamations, and an assassination of the first governor of independent Greece, that almost derailed a newborn nation. Greece plunged into political chaos following his death. Eventually, the Great Powers that is Britain, France, and Russia, imposed a monarchy, crowning King Otto of Bavaria in 1832–1833 to rule Greece. It was he who moved the capital of Greece from Nafplio to Athens in 1834. Since then, Greece has abolished its monarchy twice, with the final abolition occurring in 1973–1974, which established the Third Hellenic Republic, which remains today.

And then there’s Palamidi Fortress. I just admired it from afar – there is said to be 999 steps, and I wasn’t in the mood for exercise in this relentless HOT weather. I  wandered around the streets for about an hour, the terraced lodgings reminded me of the favelas of Brazil, only much safer. It is quite a quaint little town, with its elegant bougainvillea-draped balconies, glittering bay, and dramatic castles above. But it has been commercialised – many houses have been turned into tourist attractions – restaurants, souvenir shops, etc.

After about an hour of walking, I went to a shop selling gelato and bought a cup, and sat in the shade to enjoy it. I was confronted with what looked like gypsies – darker skin, selling all kinds of stuff, or simply begging – I did not indulge, simply because I remember what happened in India – you give to one, and suddenly you are accosted with a hundred more, and there is nowhere to run or hide. I think they will survive without my one or two Euros. I hope.

Then lunch, which was not nice at all – everything was overcooked, from the pasta to the souvlaki. By the way, I have a toothache, my lower left tooth I think has finally given way – my dentist has been warning me for years about this but I did nothing and I think finally it is rebelling, and I continue to endure the pain even until today. Overcooked pasta is still gentle enough for my aching tooth, but overcooked meat? Sorry, no.

After lunch, we made our way to Mycenae. “Rich in gold,” wrote Homer. Tucked into the dry, rugged hills of the northeastern Peloponnese, just 30 minutes from Nafplio, lie the ruins of Mycenae, one of the great palatial centres of Bronze Age Greece (circa 1600–1100 BCE), and the heart of a civilization that gave its name to an entire era: the Mycenaean Age.

This is the land of myth: the home of King Agamemnon, commander of the Greeks at Troy. A place that once rang with the clang of bronze swords and the cries of palace intrigue. Today, it is a landscape of sun-bleached stone, distant olive trees, and silence heavy with centuries. There is a small mountain (hill?) here resembling a sleeping man, it is believed to be King Agamemnon himself, made into a mountain (hill?) after he died.

Mycenae does not welcome you. It confronts you – with stone, with silence, with the kind of age that predates memory.

The ruins are scattered across a ridge like the bones of something ancient and proud. At first, I didn’t feel anything, just a windswept ruin under a harsh sky. But then I passed through the Lion Gate, and something shifted. Two lionesses, carved into stone over 3,000 years ago, still guard the entrance with silent authority. Their faces are gone, but their posture remains: alert, eternal. I stepped into their world. It dates to around 1250 BCE, and it is the oldest monumental sculpture in Europe still standing. Crossing beneath it feels like stepping into Homeric time.

Athens - Day 4 (Part 1)

16 July 2025

Today I have a day trip to Nafplio and Mycenae!

I went to the conference venue where the bus picked us up. Nafplio is about an hour away, and I slept all the way, due to my eventful night.

No one on the bus spoke to me, or even acknowledged me. This is the second time in my life where I have encountered a whole group of people simply ignoring and ostracising me, for no apparent reason. The first time was back in 2014 when I was on a boat for 8 days in between the various islands of Galapagos, Ecuador. The first four days I felt invisible and questioned my own being – whether there was something wrong with me; whether I was in fact present, whether I was visible. The last four days, however, when there were different passengers, I had a blast and renewed faith in myself.

This trip was just a few hours, and I was older and wiser – I could certainly survive, damn the other bloody arrogant tourists.

On the way to Nafplio, we passed by some ruins known as the Monastery of Daphne, a renowned 11^th century Byzantine monastery located just outside Athens, on the site of an earlier 6^th century Christian basilica and, before that, a sanctuary of Apollo Daphnaeus. It has beautiful mosaics and a towering image of Jesus Christ, and is located near the ancient Sacred Way that led to Eleusis. We didn’t stop, as visitors were not allowed at this site due to ongoing excavation and restoration works.

We also passed a town called Nemea – this is where Hercules performed one his 12 labours – slaying the Nemean lion!

Then we had a brief stop to see the Corinth canal, but more about that later, as I visited it twice on this trip.

And then we arrived in Nafplio. The town doesn’t so much greet you as seduce you, gently, with the scent of orange blossoms and salt, with the rustle of bougainvillea trailing across iron balconies, and the soft clinking of forks from shaded cafés. I arrived just as the late morning sun turned everything golden. The sea shimmered like silk, and across the water, the tiny castle of Bourtzi floated like a forgotten crown.

Wandering Nafplio’s Old Town felt like drifting through a painting. Venetian façades in pastel hues leaned over narrow marble-paved streets, their shutters open to let in the breeze and gossip. Every corner held a story: a hidden church, a faded plaque, a quiet cat napping beneath a citrus tree. The air was warm and forgiving, as if the town had nothing to prove.

Athens - Day 3 (Part 3)

15 July 2025

The Odeon of Herodes Atticus, located on the southwest slope of the Acropolis in Athens, is a stunning Roman-era stone theatre built in 161 AD by Herodes Atticus in memory of his wife. Originally used for music and poetry performances, it seated around 5,000 people and featured tiered marble seating, a semi-circular orchestra, and a grand stage building. Today, it remains an active venue, hosting concerts, operas, and plays, offering audiences a unique experience under the open sky, with the Parthenon illuminated above, blending ancient grandeur with modern artistry. It was quite a breathtaking sight, actually.

Next, the Erechtheion. Strange and sacred, the Erechtheion is known for its asymmetry and the iconic Porch of the Caryatids, where six sculpted maidens stand in place of columns. Built over ancient shrines, it was considered the most holy site of the Acropolis, the place where Athena and Poseidon supposedly battled for the city's patronage. Every inch feels spiritual, mysterious, and storied.

And lastly, the jewel of Athens – the Parthenon! Dedicated to Athena Parthenos, protector of the city, it blends beauty, power, and proportion in a way that still leaves visitors speechless. Despite its weathering and past destruction, the Parthenon retains a kind of sublime authority, as if the spirit of Athens still lives within its columns. Up close, the marble glows with golden light. From afar, it anchors the entire skyline. It is well known for its symmetrical perfection, but its perfection actually stems from imperfection – uneven floors and curving pillars, to create the illusion of perfect symmetry. The human mind is truly a wonderful thing!

Then we made our way back to the conference venue, because we were in for a treat with an Ancient Athenian dinner – one purportedly eaten by the very likes of Plato himself. The dishes were put together by the writings of Plato in his Dialogues (how cool!). I felt as if I was stepping into a dialogue between past and present. We sat down not just to eat, but to share in something older, something whispered through centuries of Greek tradition.

We began with a lettuce salad, crisp and simple, just as it might have been in ancient Athens. Alongside it came beetroot, vivid and earthy, once said to be the favourite of Aphrodite herself. She supposedly ate it to preserve her beauty – and looking around, under the Athenian evening light, it almost seemed plausible; for the Greeks are truly beautiful creatures.

Then came the mains: soft, tender artichokes, the “food of the Olympians,” their leaves unfolding like myth. There were white beans, stewed and rich, said to be the preferred dish of Hercules – humble, hearty, and satisfying. And of course, souvlaki, skewered meat roasted and seasoned, smoky and timeless. There was a choice of chicken and pork, and I asked if I could have both – and to my utmost delight, the host (the President of the entire conference who enlightened us with the background of this dinner) said, “she is still a growing child, she can have both”. Me a growing child! But I’ll take whatever compliment I get at my age.

There was also bread, and mountain tea, and wine of course – which one is supposed to mix with water because if not, one is a barbarian – so said the host. I guess I am a barbarian and will always remain so, because I did not mix my wine with water. But all the time I ate dinner and drank wine, I could literally feel the same spirit as the ancients once did in their symposia – not only to eat, but to reflect, to laugh, and to live slowly, amid a good company of people.

I was high on white wine, but managed to get back to the hotel alright. But then – but then something happened, which I’m not prepared to talk about right now. Perhaps someday. But now right now.

Athens - Day 3 (Part 2)

 15 July 2025

The flag of Greece has the cross which represents 99% of its 10 million inhabitants who are orthodox Christians, and four white and five blue alternating horizontal stripes, which in Greek makes up nine syllables, translated to mean: “Freedom or death!” So cool.

We walked past what is known as the Athenian Trilogy – three elegant buildings of ancient beginnings. The first is the National Library of Greece. With its grand marble staircase, Doric columns, and solemn façade, the National Library looks like it belongs in the age of Plato. Next, the University of Athens, which is the oldest university in modern Greece, founded just a few years after independence. Lastly, and arguably the most visually striking of the three, the Academy of Athens, which looked like it could have been airlifted straight from ancient Athens. Inspired by the classical architecture of the Parthenon, it features a pristine white marble portico with Corinthian columns, richly carved pediments, and statues of Athena (from whence Athens got its name!) and Apollo towering on columns to the left and right, with Plato and Socrates seated at the entrance. This is Greece’s highest research institution, modelled after Plato’s original Academy, blending philosophy, science, and the arts. It is both a tribute to ancient wisdom and a commitment to future innovation.

Then to the heart of modern Athens, Syntagma Square (‘Constitution Square’). This is where ancient history meets current affairs. Dominated by the Hellenic Parliament Building, the square is home to the Evzones, the ceremonial guards in pleated kilts and pom-pom shoes, who perform the changing of the guard with stoic dignity, which I witnessed yet again.

Then to the Panathenaic Stadium, originally built in the 4^th century BCE, during the time of the orator Lykourgos. The stadium was used to host the Panathenaic Games, a religious and athletic festival held in honour of Athena, the city’s patron goddess. In Roman times, it was rebuilt in marble by the wealthy benefactor Herodes Atticus, and it could once seat up to 50,000 spectators. Its full name today, Kallimarmaro – means “beautifully marbled,” a nod to its pure white Pentelic marble, the same material used for the Parthenon.

After centuries of neglect, the stadium was excavated and restored in the 19^th century, thanks to some Greek benefactors. It became the venue for the first modern Olympic Games in 1896. Today, it is the only stadium in the world built entirely of marble, and it holds the unique distinction of having hosted both ancient and modern Olympic events. It remains the finishing point of the Athens Classic Marathon and a powerful symbol of Greece’s contribution to world sport and culture.

Then across the National Gardens of Athens again. There was a statue of Alexander the Great on his beloved horse, Bucephalus. He is one of many historical figures that I admire. We strolled along something known as the Zappeion Hall, built in the 19^th century to serve as the first building dedicated to the modern Olympic Games. With its grand columns and central rotunda, it's both stately and serene, a place where political meetings, exhibitions, and quiet moments beneath the citrus trees coexist. There was a French delegation being hosted here this evening, as recited by the guide – many important looking cars with equally important looking drivers dotted the car park, all with embassy/international/UN-looking number plates.

We passed by Hadrian’s Arch, a monumental marble gateway in Athens, built around 131 AD to honour the Roman Emperor Hadrian. Located near the Temple of Olympian Zeus, it marked the symbolic boundary between the ancient city of Theseus and the new Roman quarter developed under Hadrian’s rule. The elegant structure features Corinthian columns and two inscriptions, one facing the Acropolis declaring, “This is Athens, the ancient city of Theseus,” and the other, “This is the city of Hadrian and not of Theseus,” emphasizing the emperor’s contributions. Today, the arch stands as a striking symbol of the blend between classical Greek heritage and Roman influence in Athens.

And then, up the Acropolis hill. There are timings that we must follow, due to the crowds. Luckily we had our guide who spoke Greek and cut through the lines. The first thing we saw was the Propylaea. This is the monumental gateway to the Acropolis, impressive even today as you ascend the stone path toward the sacred hill. With its massive marble columns and harmonious proportions, it sets the tone for what lies beyond. In ancient times, entering the Acropolis through the Propylaea was a ritual, a transition from the earthly to the divine.

Perched like a delicate jewel on a bastion to the right of the Propylaea, the Temple of Athena Nike honours Athena as the goddess of victory. It’s small, Ionic, and graceful, with friezes that once told of military triumphs. In a way, it’s the softest voice among the Acropolis monuments, but also one of the most elegant.

Athens - Day 3 (Part 1)

15 July 2025

Second day of conference. My new friend Kiyasha was presenting her paper, so I attended to give her moral support and take pictures for her. As soon as she finished, we ditched the conference and went gallivanting – some other attendees told us where we can find cheap souvenirs so we walked there, and I bought all the souvenirs to my heart’s desire. They had the ‘evil eye’ here, which I remember from my trip to Turkey as being distinctively Turkish. The answer would eventually come to me later.

On the way, we saw a beautiful church known as the Holy Church of Agia Paraskevi of the Holy Martyr, named after a Christian saint who was persecuted by the Roman Emperor Antonius. We took a look inside, which, like most churches I’ve been to, offered peace and serenity.

And then we walked to Plaka – old Athens as the locals call it, but now terribly commercialised into a tourist area with restaurants and cafes all over the place, and overpriced souvenir shops. Still, the streets and buildings were quaint and did give a feeling of ancient times. There were ruins almost everywhere, one was the Acharnian Gate of the Ancient Athens Wall. Seriously, Greece is steeped with such rich history that I believe you can dig just about anywhere and find some kind of ruins or history. So fascinating!

Then we made it back to the conference in time for lunch – the same Greek salad, moussaka (which I couldn’t eat as there was beef again but just as well, as there was eggplant too yuck!), pasta and dessert. Then I told Kiyasha I was heading back to my hotel as I wanted to give the afternoon a miss, rest a while and perhaps take a nap as in the evening there was a guided tour around Athens, including to the Acropolis and the much anticipated Parthenon.

I didn’t sleep a wink, although I did not have enough sleep. Anyway, at the appointed time I arrived for the guided tour. On the walk, we learned a little bit about the history of Greece.

Greece’s history stretches back over millennia, from the mythical age of heroes and gods, through the heights of Classical philosophy and empire, into centuries of foreign rule and finally, to modern independence. After the golden age of Athens and the spread of Hellenism under Alexander the Great, Greece eventually became part of the Roman Empire, and later the Byzantine Empire, with its glittering capital in Constantinople (modern-day Istanbul).

For over a thousand years, Byzantine culture preserved Greek Orthodox Christianity, art, philosophy, and learning, even as the Western Roman Empire fell into ruin.

In 1453, Constantinople fell to the Ottomans under Sultan Mehmed II. This marked the end of the Byzantine Empire and the beginning of nearly 400 years of Ottoman rule over much of Greece. For Greeks, it was the beginning of what many call the “Turkokratia” (Turkish rule), a long period marked by heavy taxation, cultural suppression, and the dismantling of ancient privileges. Yet it was also a time of quiet endurance. Greek Orthodox faith and language survived in the shadows, passed on in hidden schools and whispered traditions. This also explains the evil eye.

Inspired by Enlightenment ideals and fuelled by centuries of longing, the Greeks rose in rebellion in 1821, launching a bloody and determined war against the Ottomans. Supported by European Philhellenes (including Lord Byron – his signature is said to have been found on the remains of the Temple of Poseidon at Sounion), the war led to the creation of an independent Greek state by 1830.

Athens - Day 2

14 July 2025

First day of conference. I met many nice people! One in particular is Kiyasha, a South African but of Indian heritage and we became fast friends! She specifically looked me up due to my Indian name, and the blessings are all mine because she is really nice and I like her!

I was very good this time around, I attended all the panel sessions and went for lunch at 2 pm – Greek salad, moussaka which I couldn’t eat as there was beef, pasta (thank God!) and dessert.

In the afternoon I presented my paper, which I’m glad to say went very well. After it was over, and as it was still early, I went back to the hotel to change shoes, as there was a walking trip planned that same evening, followed by dinner.

First agenda on the walking trip: Aristotle’s Lyceum. The Lyceum was not just a school, it was a movement. Founded by Aristotle in 336 BCE (6^th century BCE), after he returned to Athens from tutoring Alexander the Great, the Lyceum became one of the greatest centres of learning in the ancient world. It is located just outside the city walls of classical Athens, in a leafy grove dedicated to Apollo Lyceius (hence the name). Unlike Plato’s Academy, which focused heavily on abstract thought, Aristotle’s Lyceum emphasized empirical observation, debate, and categorisation – what we now think of as the foundations of the scientific method.

Aristotle and his students often conducted their discussions while walking, which is why they were called Peripatetics (from peripatein, meaning "to walk about"). It is also known as a gymnasia (the modern word is of course, gymnasium) because exercises were also performed here, particularly wrestling and boxing.

Next, we walked past the National Gardens, but only briefly. Here there were busts of Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides – the three famous playwrights of ancient Greece. On the way to dinner, we managed to witness the changing of the guards (also known as presidential guards) which took place in front of the old parliament building. They do this service for free as it is of high honour. In other words, slavery 🙄.

Then we walked a bit of a distance for a typical Greek dinner, accompanied by live performances of Greek dances, singing and general entertainment. Dinner came in courses – first was bread and tzatziki (yogurt, garlic, cucumber), then Greek salad (tomato, cucumber, salad and feta cheese), spanakopita (a savory Greek pie filled with spinach, feta cheese, onions, and seasonings), dolmades (rice and herbs stuffed in vine leaves – a bit sour, not my cup of tea), souvlaki (small pieces of meat grilled on a skewer) and dessert - loukoumades (small, golden puffs of fried dough, drizzled with sweet syrup and sprinkled with cinnamon). I drank white wine (generally I do not like wine, but that was the only liquor available and I was on holiday, after all).

I kept asking our host if we were done, as it was close on 11.30 pm and I was really sleepy, to which his reply was, “this is Greece!” I never understood what he meant by this, but I think they generally eat quite late – lunch at 2 pm and dinner at 8 pm, which means that they will then stay up late.

We walked back to our hotels – another long walk. It is summer in Greece, and I heard horror stories about the heat but nothing more terrible than in Malaysia, the difference of course being that back home we drive everywhere to avoid the heat, a luxury that is non-existent when we are tourists. Anyway, I got back to the hotel alright, showered, but surprisingly had a restless night I know not why.

Athens - Day 1

 13 July 2025

I arrive in Athens! The eternal city of marble and myth, where democracy was born beneath the shadow of the Acropolis, and the voices of Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle still seem to echo through the stone-paved streets. A city where the ancient and the modern live side by side, where every crumbling column has a story, and every sunset bathes history in gold. This is where my journey began.

I took a taxi from the airport to my hotel – a small luxury I afford myself these days – after 7 ½ hours of flying to Doha, 3 hours wait, and another 4 ½ hours to Athens – I couldn’t be bothered to figure out the metro, the bus, or other cheaper alternatives.

I learned very quickly that the Greeks are very direct, but that’s just the way they are – they actually do not mean anything by it. For example, in response to a question of “where are you from?”, I attempted to explain the geographical location of Malaysia, only to be told bluntly: “I know exactly where it is!” Right.

Although I was early, my room was ready! Yay! I freshened up, unpacked a little, and then asked the front desk for directions to the conference venue. It was literally 5 minutes away, and quite easy to find. On the way back, I found a quaint little coffee shop, where I had a baguette filled with chicken slices, eggs, tomatoes and lettuce, and Greek coffee with lots of sugar. Over the years, I realise it is actually not the caffeine I need to get me going in the mornings, but the sugar rush.

I spent a little time here going through my first ever fiction that I wrote, to detect discrepancies (this is my fifth time reading it, and I can still find discrepancies 🙄. Then back to the hotel, a much needed shower and sleep – with calls in between back to Malaysia, and preparing for the conference tomorrow. Greece is 5 hours behind Malaysia, and I was still operating on Malaysia time so by 7 pm, I was out. And woke up at 3 am, staring into nothing.

Phnom Penh - Day 2 (Part 3)

 2 May 2025

After lunch we went to the last sight of the day – the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum, housed in what was once a high school. It was transformed into Security Prison 21 (S-21) by the Khmer Rouge and became the regime’s most notorious interrogation and torture centre. Of the estimated 17,000 people imprisoned there, only a handful survived. The museum preserves the prison in its raw state – rusting bed frames, blood-stained floors, rows of mugshots documenting each prisoner’s final days, the original place where people were hanged, the barbed wires.

The Khmer Rouge was finally ousted in 1979 with the help of Vietnamese forces, who installed a new government that ruled with Soviet support until the USSR collapsed. Following a period of international isolation and civil unrest, Cambodia was placed under UN administration from 1991 to 1993, culminating in its first democratic elections. Though King Norodom Sihanouk’s son won the initial vote, political tensions remained, and power shifted back to the Cambodian People’s Party (CPP), formerly part of the Vietnamese-backed regime which remains dominant today.

Here I bought a book about the Khmer Rouge, and met a survivor who was only kept alive because he was a mechanic by training and knew how to repair typewriters which the Khmer Rouge needed to document the history of all those imprisoned, tortured and killed.

I came back to my hotel feeling very disturbed and gave a suggestion to my guide – that the Killing Fields and the Genocidal Museum be visited first, followed by all the other monuments, royal palace and Wat Phnom, so that sadness is not the last thing on your mind when you return to your hotel. He smiled a sad smile and said he will consider it. We’ll see.

Back at the hotel, it was still pretty early (4.00 pm) so I sat in the dining area, ordered some local beer (Angkor beer) and started reading the book about the Khmer Rouge. The hotel employees were for sure fascinated that I took an interest in their country and volunteered much personal information: one about how his grandmother, with his father as a baby tied to her back, fled the Khmer Rouge and lived in the jungle for years surviving on whatever she could find in the jungle for food and shelter. Another: about how the current political party is still aligned with communist Vietnam and so they cannot openly criticise the government or the King lest they be thrown in jail.

I was informed (in hushed tones) that there was a general election in 2013, where the CPP were losing but suddenly, their television screen went blank for hours, and then when it came on again, miraculously the CPP won; and this led to street protests which were quickly abated and now (my impression) they are all living under silent protest at the government of the day.

I really enjoyed talking with the locals. This is always the highlight of my travels, to hear from the locals what they think, what they feel, their general outlook in life. For sure, they are wary about the Khmer Rouge, and they do not want communism, but are unsure how to go about it. I can totally understand; although there has been a change in government in Malaysia recently, before that, there were also news of ‘blackouts’ and the ruling government suddenly winning after taking into account postal, military and overseas ballots. But it could only last for so long, and eventually democracy did win. Or did it? Remains to be seen.

I also really like the Cambodians because they do not deny their heritage. They are well aware of Hindu and Buddhist influences in their country, and unlike the country I live in, they do not deny it; rather they embrace it as being part of their history and therefore, part of their culture.

At times like these I am reminded of George Orwell’s Animal Farm, which was true then as it is true now – eventually the pigs look like humans. Eventually all those who are in power become their predecessors, the very people they sought to oust. It’s movements like the Khmer Rouge that give communism a bad name. This was not what was envisioned by the likes of Karl Marx, Friedrich Engles, Emile Durkheim, Fidel Castro, Che Guevara and Ho Chi Minh. The Khmer Rouge, and present day China, Russia and Vietnam have strayed from the original teachings. Which gives communism a bad name, which in its original form, I still argue, is good.

From Auschwitz to Phnom Penh, I see the evil that humans can inflict on their own kind. Only humans. No animal will intentionally torture another animal. And we are supposed to be at the forefront of all living things? I think we humans fall short of many ethical practices of the animal world which begs the question, what makes us so special? That by evolution we have a brain, sentience? And what good has that done for us so far?

Remind me to go to a happier place next time to soothe my soul. Somewhere with lots of animals and plants, hopefully.

Phnom Penh - Day 2 (Part 2)

2 May 2025

From the hustle and bustle of town, we then drove for about ½ an hour away, to one of many killing fields that existed during the Khmer Rouge regime from 1975-1979. There were many killing fields situated throughout Cambodia, but the one we visited was the biggest.

The Khmer Rouge killed nearly two million people between 1975 and 1979. The roots of the tragedy can be traced back to the 1960s when Cambodia was ruled by King Norodom Sihanouk. In an attempt to shield the country from the growing influence of Thailand and Vietnam, he invited the French to play a protective role. During the colonial period, many Cambodian students received scholarships to study in France. There, a number of them (including Saloth Sar, who would later become Pol Pot) were introduced to communist ideology and began secretly criticising the Cambodian monarchy and its alignment with Western powers.

As their writings caught the attention of foreign intelligence services, some of these students fled back to Southeast Asia, disappearing into the jungles and joining the Kampuchean Revolutionary Party, a local offshoot of the Indo-Chinese Communist Party with strong ties to Vietnam. Eventually, they evolved into the Kampuchea Workers’ Party, increasingly aligning with Chinese-style communism.

By this time, Cambodian political factions had fractured into three ideological camps:

• Red Khmer (communists, later known as the Khmer Rouge)
• White Khmer (Western-oriented, especially pro-American)
• Blue Khmer (monarchists loyal to the king)

Following the French withdrawal and during the height of the Cold War, Cambodia tried to maintain neutrality. But in 1965, the CIA discovered that King Sihanouk had been supporting North Vietnam against the American-backed South. In retaliation, the U.S. severed diplomatic ties and began bombing operations along Cambodia’s borders.

Discontent grew. In 1970, while Sihanouk was abroad, General Lon Nol staged a coup and established the Khmer Republic, turning Cambodia into a pro-Western, anti-communist state. In response, Sihanouk allied with China and joined forces with the Khmer Rouge, led by Pol Pot, to resist American influence.

When the U.S. pulled out of Vietnam in 1973 and Lon Nol’s regime became mired in corruption, the Khmer Rouge capitalized on the chaos. By 1975, they had seized Phnom Penh. King Sihanouk was allowed to return but was soon arrested as Pol Pot moved to consolidate absolute power.

What followed was one of the most brutal genocides of the 20^th century. The Khmer Rouge sought to eliminate all perceived enemies, including intellectuals, professionals, religious figures, and even those wearing glasses, under the belief that only a radical agrarian society could achieve true equality.

The most infamous execution site is the Choeung Ek Killing Fields (the one I visited), one of an estimated 1,000 mass graves scattered across the country. Here, thousands of men, women, and children were executed and buried in shallow pits. A haunting stupa filled with human skulls now stands as a memorial.

I did not feel good after leaving the Killing Fields; I just felt an overwhelming sense of sadness of what my fellow humans are capable of.

In this quiet reflection we headed back to town to have lunch and I had something called ‘Fish Amuk’ which is something like our otak-otak. The fish comes from the Mekong river. Cambodian food is pretty similar to Malaysian food, with different spices used so slightly different taste but the same rice, vegetable and a protein. Some can be quite spicy due to the use of cili padi. Not much different from home, really.

Phnom Penh - Day 2 (Part 1)

2 May 2025

Today is a busy day! Woke up at 5, coffee, shower and then down for breakfast at 7.

I booked a whole day tour around the city today which started at 7.45 am. It turned out that I was the only tourist on this tour, as no one else booked the tour for today, and my guide was kind enough not to cancel it. So it was sort of like a private tour, which suited me just fine!

First destination: Wat Phnom which literally means ‘mountainous pagoda’. According to legend, in 1372, there was once a wealthy old lady known as Madam Penh, who lived near the bank of the confluence of the four (three rivers). One day she found four Buddha statues, and one of Vishnu. The belief is only sacred people are ‘chosen’ to find religious relics. Madam Penh then asked some of the villagers to build an artificial hill and build a small wooden temple on top of the hill to house the statues. She invited monks to bless the statues and the monks named the hermitage Wat Phnom which is ‘wat’ it is known to this day. 😊

We walked around the whole complex; there were many beautiful paintings on the walls, which I guessed (correctly) to be Cambodia’s version of the Ramayana. There is a stupa at the complex containing the ashes of a former King of Cambodia. My guide informed me that most Cambodians are khmers, which is a distinct race with DNA most similar to Polynesians. He was quite firm in informing me that they were NOT Chinese, like most Vietnamese and Thais. I got the impression that Cambodians do not like Vietnam and Thailand for various geo-political and ideological reasons – Thailand because of territorial disputes, and Vietnam because they seek to spread communism.

There was a shrine dedicated to Madam Penh, but the most interesting shrine was in a room that contained a statue of Buddha made of pure gold, another statue made of emerald, and the floors made of pure silver. No videos or pictures were allowed here, and I mentioned to my guide that this would be a perfect place for a modern-day heist (me and my imagination – roll eyes). He was not amused.

Second destination: the Royal Palace. Cambodia still has a King (a constitutional monarch) whose powers are more symbolic than anything else. Supposed to be the same in Malaysia but that’s a story for another day. The King still resides here, but other parts of the palace not in use are opened for the public daily as a tourist destination. The main elements of the palace which I saw were the Throne Hall, which contains the three main royal thrones and is the place kings are crowned and where foreign ambassadors are received; the Napoleon Pavilion, which King Norodom used as a reception hall and is today a museum; the Phochani Pavilion, a banqueting hall; the Chan Chhaya or Moonlight Pavilion on the northeast section of the wall, used for state banquets and dance performances; and the Damnak Chan behind the Napoleon Pavilion, an administrative building. Across the road from the Moonlight Pavilion is a building which, as informed by the guide, used to be the place where an elephant was to be brought for the King to mount either for battle or for royal processions. How cool was that, but not so cool for the poor elephants, I’m sure.

 

Third destination: Monument of friendship between Cambodia and Vietnam. This monument commemorates the alliance between Vietnam and Cambodia, particularly the Vietnamese intervention in 1979 to overthrow the Khmer Rouge regime. It's a prominent concrete monument located in Botum Park near the city centre, featuring a gold-topped tower and statues of soldiers and a Khmer woman and child.

Next, the Constitution Monument in Phnom Penh which celebrates the 1993 Constitution of the Kingdom of Cambodia. It features a unique design, combining Greco-Roman and ancient Khmer architectural styles, and stands at 23.4 meters tall, weighing 112.9 tonnes.  Across the Constitution monument, built in the centre of a roundabout, is the Independence Monument built in 1958 to memorialise Cambodia's independence from France in 1953. It is in the form of a lotus-shaped stupa, and stands at 37 metres tall.

The last monument for the day was the Monument of Norodom Sihanouk, a monument commemorating the former King Norodom Sihanouk. The bronze statue is 4.5 meters tall and is housed under a 27 meter high stupa. King Norodom Sihanouk died on 15 October 2012 in Beijing, China, and is survived by his son, the current King Norodom Sihamoni. The statue is dedicated to Sihanouk's accomplishment on liberating the country on 9 November 1953 from French colonialism. He is a revered King due to economic rejuvenation in Cambodia in the 1960s. From 1941-1954, he abdicated the throne to his father because he wanted to get involved in politics. He was arrested by Pol Pot and put under house arrest in the Royal Palace.

In 1991, the United Nations came to restore damaged property, develop, and help to run the economy and administration in Cambodia. They were the ones who introduced the dollar into Cambodia’s economy so that everything has a dollar price, together with the local currency which is Cambodian riels. From this monument, you can actually see the other two monuments (the Independence Monument and the Constitution Monument) which makes for a good photograph.