Finally I decided I had to get to Athens proper. The ferries arrive into Piraeus, some kilometres outside of the city centre and fairly uninteresting. The route to the centre, however, is less than obviously pointed out. But with the help of a local businesswoman I managed to get a bus and then the metro, and she even insisted on paying for my ticket. I was in the centre by midday.

When in Athens, head to the Acropolis. So I did. The heat was overpowering, and limited the sort of walking you could do seriously, but I am not one to complain. I spent the day exploring Hadrian's Library, the Roman Agora and the Acropolis. The latter was obviously the highlight, though the Parthenon is itself a dissappointment in one respect due to its continual state of scaffolding-clad repair. When you step back, however, and consider the age of the buildings, the significance of the sight and the civilisation that grew from here you begin to really appreciate it. The setting, as well, is incredible. I had been warned that I would not like Athens because of its ugly modern buildings, the smell of sewage that pervades the atmosphere and the notorious and equally ubiquitous 'women of the night'. Somehow, however, all these lend the city something of authenticity: it is alive, in all its ugliness and sin, and it was probably equally sordid and even more foul-smelling two and a half thousand years ago. From the hills overlooking the city, you also have the benefit of seeing the city buzz beneath you, without the scents and sights you would rather miss. For me, this didn't ruin the ancient buildings; it just put them in a different context.

In the evening I went out with three others from the hostel: an Australian, a South African and an American. So, naturally, rather than taking on the nickname of 'Britain' as is common in such gatherings, I became 'Europe', as we realised we represented four different continents. And whilst I resented the pressure that comes with representing over 700 million people, there is something special about sitting around four corners of a table, having come from four corners of the globe. We went to a wine bar in the centre, then took a ridiculously cheap taxi to a club playing something like remixed ska, and walked back past the Acropolis as the dawn was breaking over it.

Nightlife remained fairly relaxed over the final two nights. One interesting occurence happened, however, after two of us had gone to get food. We noticed, as we were walking, that the streets were empty, cordened off by the police who were showing a big presence. This was because of demonstrations, fairly small, but potentially violent as they seemed to included both right-wing nationalists and left-wing anarchists. Many of the shops were closed, but due to the banishing of the usually terrifying traffic, the city actually felt safer than normal. That was until we were on the street on which the hostel was located. Extraordinarily, of all the places to choose, about 50 protesters and perhaps 20 armed riot police were standing just yards from the hostel door. At first we planned to walk through them; 'they don't look very violent' I said. Famous last words: I fight broke out at that very moment. So we managed to navigate a back street, sneak behind the protestors and police, and reach the hostel before they started using tear gass. The hostel was locked, but the receptionist let us in, and the other guests who had been on the balconies watching the fighting, came back in as the tear gas got to them.