A political theorist in Athens

Having studied political theory at postgraduate level, I was expecting to feel exhilarated by our visit to Athens and the Acropolis – the birthplace of democracy and the most iconic manifestation of Western civilisation. And whilst it was certainly a very interesting visit – the Acropolis itself is no less than majestic – I was left feeling remarkably unmoved.

Of course, we admired the remains of the Parthenon, its architectural brilliance and its significance as a tribute to the Greek goddess Athena – the virgin goddess of wisdom, war, the arts, justice and reason. And, of course, our eyes feasted on the delightful views of Athens that we enjoyed from this privileged position high above the city. We took the time to picture plays taking place at the old Roman theatre, and to imagine the pride the Athenians felt in being the pioneers of modern civilisation (setting themselves apart from the less refined, more barbaric, classes of people).

And yet, somehow, I discovered that I feel more inspired (to write, to feel, to exist) by the calm that comes with the setting of the sun as it dips into the sea, slowly at first, and then – suddenly – disappearing so fast you’re afraid to blink in case you miss the last of its lingering rays.

I used to think that, in order to feel creative or inspired, it was essential to be at the heart of a busy city, rich in both cultural history and urban reality. London epitomised this very ideal, and in my mind Athens was guaranteed to provide the same sort of stimulus. Surely, the hub of culture and democracy is the best place for a political theorist/aspiring writer to flourish?

Though nothing like London, the chaos of Athens – an inevitable symptom of city life – only served to numb my creative spirit; the external chaos adding to my internal chaos, merging with it, losing myself in it. Taking the city’s metro (something that I was initially very excited about) only reminded me of what it feels like to commute and to be constrained – to travel, yes, but not freely.

At the end of an interesting day in Athens, I felt the most pleasure recalling a leisurely stroll we took through the National Gardens, which were beautiful and – surprisingly – very quiet. We sought refuge in the shade, and enjoyed the feeling of calm that cannot often be found in the concrete jungle of a city.

Oh, and there was that half a kilo of gelato that we indulgently treated ourselves to. That was pretty damn inspirational too.