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.