Travel: Athens

From my vantage point on nearby Filopappou Hill, the silent ceremony signalled nightfall and, like the huddled couples, picnicking families and lonesome travellers gathered among the rocks and boulders, I turned to face the sprawling city and watch the sunset. There, the pale matchbox buildings dimmed with the weakening gaze of day, and as a blood-red sun sank beyond the horizon, nightlights flickered into life and Athens began to sparkle.

It was dusk, but it appeared as if half the city was just waking up. Earlier, it seemed the other half had been swarming around the flea market at Monastiraki (Metro Monasteraki, 8.30am-3pm). The area bustles every Sunday, as hundreds of stalls are rolled out to hawk everything from Dionysian dolls to dodgy DVDs. With its fruit and vegetable carts, antique shops and tourist tat, the modern-day marketplace has superseded ancient Agora (Adrianou, Metro Monastiraki, www.culture.gr), which not only took care of business in the days of Socrates, but also served as the centre for all public life and as a meeting place for everybody involved with the arts, government and religion.

These days, the site sprawls in ruins at the foot of the Acropolis, yet among the scattered blocks and fallen pillars, I found perhaps the best preserved shrine in Greece, the Temple of Hephaestus, god of blacksmiths, manufacturing and fire. A 12 euro (Dhs60) ticket had allowed me to see its still-intact columns and intricate friezes up-close, but it also gave me access to the other sites on the new pathway that links Athens’ most famous historical landmarks.

Completed in time for the 2004 Olympic games, the Unification of Archaeological Sites Walkway is a 16km pedestrian stretch that has transformed the sightseeing landscape of the city. Where coaches and cars once jostled for supremacy, I was now ambling along a pleasant tree-lined promenade, admiring the relics that punctuate the route. Armed with my trusty ticket, which was valid for up to a week, I visited the birthplace of drama at the Theatre of Dionysus (Dionysiou Areopagitou, 210/322 4625), the serene classical cemetery at Keramikos (Ermou 148, 210/346 3552, Metro Thissio), the impressive Temple of Olympian Zeus (Leof Vas Olgas, 210/922 6330) and the intriguing Roman Forum and Tower of the Winds (Elou & Pelopida, 210/324 5220).

History-weary, I went in search of the here-and-now. I meandered past crowds and cafés, along the twisting alleys and dusty cobbled back streets of the old Plaka district, until I stumbled across a quiet taverna called Platanos (Diogenes 4, Plaka, 210/322-0666) at the edge of a verdant courtyard. Under the hovering canopy of a giant plane tree, I sat with a bottle of Mythos and a spanakopita – a crisp filo pastry parcel of spinach and feta – as a female choir at the nearby Museum of Greek Musical Instruments (Diogenes 1-3, Plaka, 210/325-0198) sent its sweet harmonies soaring into the afternoon.

But I still hadn’t seen enough old bricks, so I soon set off up the hill to the most famous pile of rubble in Greece – and perhaps the world – the Acropolis. It may be a shadow of its former glory, but it was still breathtaking. The colossal gateway, the Propylaeum, prepared me in grandiose fashion for my first sight of the majestic Parthenon, and reminded me that I was now leaving the mundane world and stepping into the realm of the gods.

Standing in honour of Athena, the virgin goddess, the temple was designed by the master sculptor Phidias. It was constructed between 447 and 438 BC to his precise mathematical specifications, which made the imposing monument appear perfectly symmetrical – despite the distortions of distance upon the human eye. Cranes and scaffolding crept up its proud pillars like steel ivy, but despite the restoration work being busily carried out before me, the structure was truly awe-inspiring.

I circled its vast base before checking out the smaller, but more detailed, Erechtheum and its elaborate sculptures and carvings. And then I paid my respects at the Temple of Athena Nike, which wasn’t a shrine to Michael Jordan and Southeast Asian sweatshops, but a temple in honour of the goddess of victory. But thirst and hunger were winning the battle for my attention, so I scrambled back down the steps of the Acropolis and struck out on the now familiar paved walkway into the neighbourhood of Thisio.

Apostolou Pavlou winds down the hill through an area that’s enjoyed a renaissance since the unification walkway was built. I was greeted near the bottom by a combustion of cafés thronged with people watching other people, and chose Filistron (Apostolou Pavlou 23, 210/342 2897) to rest my bones. On its flowery rooftop terrace, I absorbed the views of leafy Mount Lycabettus and the Acropolis as I refuelled with some wonderful mezedes. The healthy Greek staples of gushing tomatoes, crisp vegetables, feta cheese and lashings of olive oil gave me strength for my pre-sunset climb up Filopappou Hill, and stopped my belly from burbling as the city burst into a sea of twinkling lights beneath the darkening claret sky.

Athens came alive at night. Around Psyrri – formerly an area of workshops and craftsmen – the dusky streets pulsed with basslines booming from clubs packed with Greek hipsters. The traditional twang of the bouzouki buzzed out of a few taverna windows, and the chatter of the café crowd spilled out in all directions across the street. I joined the hordes outside Astron (Taki 3, mobile 6937 146337), a tiny bar bursting at the seams with bottle-draining punters bobbing to electronica and house music. And although I felt as ancient as Zeus himself (though rather less godlike) after my hard day’s sightseeing, the night was still young.

Clubs and bars like this one bang on until early morning all over the city, and many of the young revellers here had no intention of budging until dawn. Others dispersed into the night to find the upbeat R&B at nearby disco bar Bee (Miaouli 6, 210/321 2624), or the tundra-cool alternative rock and electro-beats of Corto Maltese (Karaiskaki 31, no phone). With people milling all around me, I swigged the last of my drink, weaved a path through the human traffic and hailed a cab back to my hotel. I’d already watched the sun go down in Athens – I wasn’t so keen on seeing it rise again. Not quite so soon anyway.