Greek mythology provides an explanation for almost everything, even including how the city of Athens gained its name. It seems that the goddess, Athena, and Poseidon were fighting for the possession of the town. In order to resolve their differences, they decided that they would each provide a gift to the town and allow the remaining ten gods on Mount Olympus to decide which gift was the most valuable to the mortals. The winner would gain the town’s patronage. Poseidon delivered his gift first, by striking his trident on the Acropolis rock and producing a river of water. Athena then planted a seed next to the traces of the trident scratches, producing the very first olive tree. The gods deliberated for a while and then declared Athena the winner, deciding that, since the town already had water, the olive trees would be much more precious to the mortals. Athena gave the town her name, and took centre-stage on the Acropolis when the ancient Greeks built the Parthenon in her honour.
The Acropolis has held my attention since I arrived in Athens. The word ‘acropolis’ is a generic Greek word meaning ‘highest point’, and although there are many of these throughout Greece, the acropolis of Athens is simply referred to as ‘The Acropolis’. I first caught sight of the Acropolis in the darkness of early evening while walking the busy, noisy streets near the Syntagma Station. The Acropolis is lit up at night and commands the attention of anyone within view. I didn’t visit it immediately on my arrival in Athens. I waited a few days to savour the adventure, wanting first to brush up on my Greek mythological tales. I discovered quickly that the museums and historical sites are much more interesting when I have stories that I can connect to the artifacts and ruins. Besides, the ground within the Acropolis gates felt sacred to me; the Acropolis is, after all, considered to be the holy rock of Athens. So I wanted to prepare myself mentally and emotionally before I stepped across the threshold.
On the day of my visit, instead of riding the metro, I decided to walk from my hostel near the Omonia Station to the Acropolis. While wandering through the tourist zone, with its many restaurants and cafes, I wasn’t able to resist the aroma of freshly ground coffee. I don’t particularly enjoy the strong Greek coffees in their tiny cups – I much prefer regular coffee with milk – but sometimes the real joy of travel is simply to embrace local culture and traditions. Although the taste of the Greek coffee made me wince, I certainly loved the feeling of seeing myself as part of the history of this 4,000-year-old city. I sat in a café and poured over some maps and leafed through some books. My coffee finished, and with still some time before the Acropolis opened, I opted to take a round-about route, walking past the Parliament Building, through the National Gardens, out to the Panathinaikon Stadium, back through the National Gardens, past Hadrian’s Arch and the Temple of Olympian Zeus, and finally to the Acropolis side entrance across from the Acropolis Museum.
It was a lovely walk, and although the pedestrian traffic was light in the early morning, I was kept company by the numerous feral cats in the area. They all seemed to be well fed – indeed, the citizens of Athens tend to be quite kind to feral cats – but none of them would let me come within arm’s reach before they scurried off.
The National Gardens is one of my favourite places in Athens, not just because it contains rare species of flowers and trees and has ruins and ancient mosaics that you can literally walk up to and touch, but because it’s just so peaceful there. It’s one of the few places in the city where you can escape the noise of the traffic.
On the other side of the gardens is the Panathinaikon Stadium, made of marble and able hold 70,000 spectators. It’s been restored a couple of times in the last 2,000 years and was used for the opening and closing ceremonies during the first modern Olympics in 1896. It was also used as a venue for the 2004 Olympics. The stadium sits on what used to be an ancient racecourse, which was used during the Panathenaic Games, similar to the modern Olympics in its frequency and design, but more religious in its function. The games honoured, of course, the goddess Athena. The stadium is still functional and in use today for various events, such as the finish line for the annual Athens Marathon. At the entrance to the stadium, I hesitated to pay the 5-Euro entrance fee. I could see the whole stadium from where I stood and thought it a waste of money just for the privilege of placing my hands on the marble. I moved on. Perhaps I would come back and run the marathon, just to be able to, er, enter the stadium without paying.
Hadrian’s Arch, also known as Hadrian’s Gate, is one of the most accessible ruins in Athens. The arch is made entirely of marble, which was dragged more than 18 kilometers from Mount Pentelikon to the site about 1,900 years ago. It’s surrounded by a low fence close to the ruin, and although the fence is far enough out that you can’t quite touch the marble, it’s close enough that you can read the inscriptions on the marble. The inscription on one side in Greek reads “this is Athens, the city of Theseus”, and on the other side, the inscription reads “this is the city of Hadrian, and not of Theseus”. It’s possible that Hadrian’s Arch is a boundary between the old city and new city, or between two different periods of leadership. Regardless, it is a well-preserved and fine-looking Classical-era structure.
Around the corner from the arch is the Temple of Olympian Zeus. The ruins are massive, with sixteen immense columns still standing. It’s hard to believe that this temple once had 104 of these columns; indeed, it was the largest temple in all of Greece at the time, which is fitting, since Zeus was the most powerful of the gods. Homer called him the Father of Gods and Humans. It must have been quite emotional for ancient Greeks to set foot in this place for the first time. I know I was suitably impressed, standing agog on the streets of Athens, and I was only looking at about 15 percent of the original temple. Much like Zeus’s struggle for leadership of the Cosmos, it was a labour to get the Temple built. Construction began in the 6th century BC, but the Temple wasn’t completed until many centuries later. During that time, leadership changed frequently, the project was abandoned for more than 300 years, and columns were seized by the Romans and taken home to be used in the Temple of Jupiter. It was only when Hadrian (remember the arch?) took command that the Temple was finally completed. The year was 132, about 638 years after construction had begun.
Zeus, himself, had a rough go of it to establish his superiority. He was the last child born of the union between the Titans, Cronus and Rhea. Cronus knew that one of his children would eventually overthrow him, so he – I’m almost embarrassed to say – swallowed all of Zeus’s siblings (Demeter, Hestia, Hera, Hades, and Poseidon). Rhea must have had enough of this silly practice, so after she gave birth to Zeus, she hid him in a cave on the island of Crete, to be raised by some Nymphs under the watchful eye of her mother, Gaia. Rhea then gave her husband a stone wrapped in swaddling clothes to swallow. I guess Cronus couldn’t tell the difference between a stone and a baby boy. Zeus had many protectors while growing up. For instance, when he cried, the Giants would begin a war dance, banging their swords against their spears so that Cronus couldn’t hear his son’s wailing.
When Zeus became a man, he fought and defeated his father, forcing him to ‘cough up’, so to speak, his siblings. His aunts and uncles, the Titans, refused to recognize Zeus as their leader, so Zeus, with the help of his siblings, the Cyclops, and the Hecatonchires, defeated the Titans and had them imprisoned in Tartarus. After that, he had to slay the Giants that his grandmother, Gaia, sent after him. His toughest battle was with Typhon, son of Gaia, who attempted to destroy the world. Typhon initially had the advantage after tearing the nerves from Zeus’s body and throwing him unconscious against a rock. Zeus was rescued and nursed to health by Hermes and Pan, and then came back with a surprise attack against Typhon from the sky. The wounded Typhon tried to escape to Sicily to save himself, but Zeus dropped Mount Etna on him, burying him forever.
Zeus wasn’t pleased with the human race. They didn’t honour the gods and he found them to be arrogant, so he created a flood on the earth that only Deucalion and Pyrrha survived (does the story sound familiar?) Zeus allowed the couple to create new humans, which they did by tossing rocks behind them.
Much like his brother, Poseidon, Zeus had a problem with infidelity. He was married to his sister, Hera (yes, things were a little different back then), with whom he produced four children. But he also sired more than 50 other children from 43 partners outside his marriage, with both mortal and immortal women, including a child with his other sister, Demeter. Zeus was a master in the art of seduction, often disguising himself to please his conquests. For Leda, he turned himself into a swan; for Danae, he turned himself into golden rain. And for Europa, who gave him three sons, he turned himself into a bull, enchanted her while she was playing with her girlfriends in a meadow, and then when she climbed on his back, he abducted her and fled to Crete.
Despite his infidelity, his jealousy, and his warmongering, Zeus was considered to be a fair god, providing reasonable judgement over the actions of mortals and gods. He was worshipped as Defender and Saviour. And as I stood near the remaining columns of the Temple of Olympian Zeus, I wondered what sacrifices were made in his honour, and what favours his human worshipers had requested. Perhaps many of them came here only to give thanks for a successful life.
I sighed, turned, and slowly made my way along a side street filled with restaurants and tourist shops. The sun was beating down through a cloudless sky; it was going to be a scorcher, despite that it was the off season. I was glad I had my sunscreen. I waited in line at the Acropolis kiosk, purchased my 10-Euro off-season ticket, handed it to the guard at the gate and stepped across the threshold onto sacred ground.
