After a day of museums and drawing, we board the Metro at Monastirion Station and head up to a suburb called Kifissia, in the northern part of Athens. We meet with Irene, a Greek friend of my dad’s whom he met playing online Scrabble a couple of years ago. She treats us to dinner at one of her favorite Greek tavernas: Greek salata, fish, fried cheese, spanakopita, and of course, Greek white wine. The wine is nicely balanced with grassy and citrus aromas and a touch of oak. I feel lucky to be treated to a delicious dinner and to have made a new friend.

I created a map showing the major places we visited while in Athens. The narrow, zigzagging streets resemble pedestrian pathways more than motorways, but motorcycles come zipping through the crowds at surprising speeds. Athens is also greener than I imagined and that is in part do to the abundance of potted plants and flowers that line the streets, but also because of park-like areas that break the rhythm of multi-storied buildings. These little islands of greenery appear to be excavations, with Corinthian capitals and other pieces of columns lying about. History is everywhere.

While resting at the Hotel Adams and between adventures roaming the streets of Athens, I drew this simple line drawing of my dad blogging on his laptop computer. I like the still, almost meditative quality to the piece as my dad sits, lost in thought.

On my second day in Athens I finally got over jet lag enough to start painting. My first painting was the ruins of Olympian Zeus. The site was closed at the time but I found a comfortable spot to set up shop just just outside the fence. Using a Molskine watercolor sketchbook, I first created a line drawing in ink and then finished it with watercolors.

Climbing up the Metro steps at seven-thirty in the morning, I have finally arrived in Athens. At the top of the stairs, I glance back, waiting for my dad to catch up. Bags in hand, we exit the station at Syntagma Square, stepping into a sprinkling of rain from a dark sky promising more. Several hawkers crowd around, hoping to sell us umbrellas, but we politely decline and venture into the damp city.

After arriving in Athens my Metro early in the morning and searching for a place to stay, we finally settled into the Adams Hotel in Plaka, the oldest continuously occupied little city in Europe. Our second floor room is old but clean, and has a partial view of the Acropolis, which is conveniently located a few blocks away. Setting down my backpack, I pull back the curtains revealing a shallow balcony complete with bistro table and two chairs. Fortunately, the rain that welcomed us to Athens has stopped, but its presence can still be seen as water drips from the balcony above. I slide open the door and step outside just as a motorcycle whizzes along the narrow street below, leaving behind a faint smell of exhaust. From this view, the Acropolis towers above the city, a fortress embedded in a mountain of rock.

Our second floor room was old and full of character. I guess it was important to have the sink centered below the window at all costs.

For our first evening in Athens, we settled into an outdoor cafe for an early dinner. I ordered an open faced gyro, starting with a Greek salata: ripe tomatoes, tangy vinaigrette, red onions, kalamata olives, and a slab of seasoned feta. While I was enjoying my salad, a little girl, maybe eight-years old, approached us from the street carrying an accordion. She played a single note on the instrument and said in English, “Money please.” When we shook our heads no, she turned, without a blink of an eye or expression of disappointment, to the next table and repeated. It was very amusing.