Green Sprouts.

There are times when people have to take things into their own hands. Things not always move smoothly and then sometimes they're not done at all. When it has to do with public spaces, neighborhoods and quality of social life, Athens is not exactly a marvel.
So it's such a fresh, inclusive, open and bravely active thing that all over the city, people-run and free city parks are sprouting up. They're ex parking lots, municipal squares with ancient trees that were planned for "development" and cut down brutally, demolished or abandoned lots. And now they're colourful and vibrating, they're hand made and recycled, they're real, open and exist solely due to the determination and hard effort of young people. The only way to be better would be to more of them. And there will be.

 

"There will be riots".

It is true that a certain amount of arbitrary and reflexive rebelliousness is always expected to season the social soup of Greece. It's everywhere and nowhere. It can be deceptively low key and it can put a profound burden on lives at the same time. It's not just expected or customary, it an invisible cloak of inevitability. At least it usually has a funny side and this gives it this sweet-sour aftertaste.

On this note, I was silently bemused with a half-dropped mouth when I heard the coffee shop girl refusing to serve us and hastily closing down shop. "There will be riots" she said rushing back in. Ok, we're in Athens, but why today? There was a protest against the new anti-smoking law apparently. That's the truth; honestly. By arriving at the battlefield I still had not made up my mind about the seriousness of the affair, and had barely uttered a few words. My mouth was still droopy. But all became clear on the spot. It turned out that a lazy reggae-funk party was on the cards and the smoke was not from the police's canisters. As our curiosity weaned immediately we moved on and we looked for some other riots. We were duped!

 

Not Forgetting.

It's closing in, the second anniversary of the murder of young Alexandros. The walls of Athens carry the murals and the people the hope. And all together, waiting.

 

Sunday Afternoon.

Nafplio is the closest city to the village I grew up in and the closest thing I have to a home town. To a reference point of urban living that is. It used to be the capital of the country and is still one of the most visited places. Built under the watchful eye of the old Venetian castle, with a beautiful old town and a famous island-castle (housing the executioners for a while) is an eye candy.

Spending a wonderfully warm and warm-hearted Sunday afternoon with a good friend, on a long walk behind the rock, surrounded by cacti and the sea, pine trees and the diminishing light is the best way to enjoy it. Even though you don't have any contact with the city itself, you're as close to the spirit of the place as possible. Try it one day.