Written during our flight home on Saturday, October 24

As we're sitting on our flight back to the United States, I've been thinking about how much we managed to experience in just a few days. We visited some extraordinary places, from the Acropolis and the Temple of Poseidon to Delphi and the monasteries of Meteora, but what continues to occupy my thoughts isn't necessarily the famous landmarks. It's the smaller observations we made along the way, the differences between how people live in Greece and what we're accustomed to back home, and the questions that emerged as we explored a country we knew relatively little about before arriving. Now that I'm squeezed into a rather compact economy seat with more than ten hours of flying ahead of me, I figure there's no better time to revisit some of those observations, do a little overdue research, and try to make sense of what we experienced.

One of the first things that caught my attention in Athens was the sheer number of motorcycles and scooters on the roads. They seemed to be everywhere, weaving between cars, slipping through narrow openings in traffic, and occasionally traveling at speeds that looked rather alarming from the sidewalk. At first, I couldn't imagine how anyone could feel comfortable riding like that in such a congested city, particularly when the distance between a motorcycle and the surrounding vehicles sometimes appeared to be measured in inches. We also noticed electric rental scooters scattered throughout Athens, offering yet another way to get around without a car. After spending more time in the city, however, the popularity of two-wheeled transportation began to make sense. The streets are crowded, parking is limited, and gasoline is expensive, so a motorcycle offers some obvious practical advantages, even if I still wouldn't feel particularly comfortable riding one through that traffic.

The cost of gasoline added another dimension to that observation. When we filled our rental car near Meteora, the bill came to exactly €57, which initially seemed rather expensive. Later, I asked our Hertz rental agent to help me decipher the receipt, since it was written entirely in Greek. He explained the breakdown as approximately €25 for the fuel itself and another €32 in taxes and other charges, which sounded almost unbelievable. I wondered whether gasoline was taxed similarly back home and we simply weren't accustomed to seeing it itemized. After looking into it, I found that while American gasoline prices do include federal and state taxes, those taxes account for a much smaller proportion of the final price. In Greece, taxes and levies make up roughly half of what drivers pay at the pump. Suddenly, the abundance of small motorcycles and economical cars seemed much less surprising.

Athens traffic itself was every bit as congested as what we've experienced in large American cities, particularly on Thursday morning when it took us what felt like an eternity just to get out of the metropolitan area on our way to Delphi. What surprised me, however, was how courteous many drivers seemed to be despite the congestion. We repeatedly noticed people allowing others to merge, giving way when appropriate, and generally accommodating surrounding vehicles without the confrontational behavior we sometimes encounter in American cities. Even the motorcycles, despite their seemingly chaotic movements, appeared to operate within a shared understanding of how traffic flowed. It certainly wasn't orderly in the conventional sense, but somehow everyone seemed to know what everyone else was doing.

This courtesy seemed to extend onto the highways as well. Once we were outside the immediate Athens area, drivers generally treated the leftmost lane as a passing lane rather than somewhere to remain indefinitely. Slower vehicles moved over after overtaking, and faster traffic passed without the unnecessary maneuvering that becomes common when someone occupies the passing lane for miles. I don't remember encountering a single particularly persistent left-lane blocker during our entire road trip, which is something I certainly can't say about driving in the United States.

One thing that did puzzle me was how frequently the speed limits changed, often with repeated signs reminding drivers of the restrictions, even when the road conditions seemed essentially unchanged. Yet we rarely saw police officers or obvious speed cameras, which made me wonder how consistently those limits were enforced. Apparently, Greece has been expanding its automated traffic-enforcement systems, so perhaps more was happening behind the scenes than we realized. Either way, while a few days of driving is hardly enough to generalize about an entire country's driving culture, our experience was overwhelmingly positive. It was a reminder that heavy traffic and aggressive driving aren't necessarily the same thing.

Once we left Athens and began exploring the countryside, we noticed another interesting difference: the age of the cars. There were many vehicles that looked as though they'd been on the road for decades, not carefully restored classics or collectible vintage automobiles, but ordinary cars still serving their original purpose. Small hatchbacks, older sedans, and practical work vehicles were common sights in the villages and along the rural roads. We saw a mixture of European and Asian brands in the city, although Mercedes seemed particularly common, ranging from personal vehicles and passenger vans to utility trucks used around the cities and villages. Even the taxis came in a surprisingly wide variety of makes and models, and we spotted a few Teslas operating as taxis in Athens. There was an interesting contrast between the older cars that had clearly been in service for years and the occasional brand-new electric vehicle moving through the same streets.

I later learned that Greece has one of the oldest passenger-car fleets in the European Union, with the average car approaching eighteen years of age. That made sense given what we'd seen, although it also prompted me to think about the economic circumstances behind it. Greece went through a prolonged financial crisis that affected employment, wages, and household purchasing power, and replacing a vehicle remains a substantial expense for many families. Cars that might have been traded in years earlier in the United States often continue serving their owners here. From our perspective as visitors, there was something charming about seeing these older vehicles driving through small villages, contributing to the distinctly European atmosphere we were enjoying. But I also recognize that what appears picturesque to a tourist may simply reflect the financial realities of everyday life. It's easy to romanticize something when you don't have to live with the circumstances behind it.

Another aspect of Athens that fascinated me was its enormous physical footprint. Standing on the Acropolis and looking out across the city, we could see buildings stretching toward the surrounding mountains and almost every direction of the horizon. Yet unlike New York, Chicago, or even parts of Boston, there was no prominent cluster of skyscrapers defining the skyline. Instead, Athens appeared to consist of an almost continuous expanse of relatively low- and mid-rise apartment buildings, with balconies extending across the facades and buildings packed closely together. Faye, our guide on the Cape Sounion excursion, explained that buildings weren't allowed to stand taller than the Acropolis, which sounded entirely reasonable given the historical significance of the monument and the desire to preserve its prominence.

I nerded out a little on this one, partly because Beijing has similar concerns about preserving the historical character and skyline around the Forbidden City. As it turns out, Faye's explanation was a useful simplification rather than a universal rule. Athens does have building-height restrictions, particularly around the historic center, where preserving views of the Acropolis has influenced urban planning for decades. But the city's distinctive appearance also has a lot to do with how rapidly it expanded after World War II. During the following decades, large numbers of people moved from rural Greece into Athens, and much of the housing demand was met through the construction of the multistory apartment buildings that now dominate the cityscape. There was even a distinctive development arrangement called antiparochi, in which landowners provided their property to developers in exchange for apartments in the completed buildings. I found that particularly interesting because, on one hand, it reminded me of redevelopment arrangements in China, where homeowners sometimes give up their original houses in exchange for apartments built on the same land. On the other hand, it helps explain why so much of Athens looks architecturally similar, with one apartment block blending almost seamlessly into the next. It's a city that grew rapidly and densely, but largely horizontally rather than vertically.

The population is substantial too, with roughly 3.8 million people living in the broader Attica region, which includes Athens and its surrounding municipalities. That's somewhat smaller than the population of Greater Boston, depending on how the metropolitan boundaries are defined, but the visual impression from the Acropolis made Athens feel enormous. Looking out over that seemingly endless urban landscape, I couldn't help wondering how efficiently people could travel from one side of the city to another. We had a good experience using the metro, particularly when arriving from the airport, but navigating the wider city by car seemed considerably less appealing. At the same time, I found something aesthetically pleasing about a city whose most important historical monument remains so prominent above the surrounding buildings. The Acropolis still commands the skyline in a way that would be difficult to achieve if it were surrounded by modern skyscrapers.

For all its size and congestion, Athens also had a surprisingly charming collection of animal residents. Turtles strolling down a busy pedestrian road. Cats seemed to be everywhere, wandering through neighborhoods, lounging around restaurants, and making themselves comfortable even at our hotel. Some were friendlier than others, but they all appeared perfectly accustomed to sharing their surroundings with people. We noticed dogs enjoying the same freedom, including a few at Delphi that had settled down right in front of the archaeological site's ticketing center, happily sunbathing while visitors walked around them. Pigeons were everywhere too, and at one bakery where we stopped for breakfast, one casually helped itself to the crumbs around the chef’s station as though it were another regular customer. None of these encounters was particularly extraordinary on its own, but together they added a certain character to the places we visited. There was something endearing about how comfortably these animals seemed to coexist with everyone, going about their own routines amid the constant movement of the city.

The people we encountered were another highlight of the trip. With the exception of one rather unfriendly immigration officer when we first arrived, almost everyone we interacted with was welcoming, patient, and willing to help. Hotel employees, restaurant staff, shopkeepers, and the people we met in smaller towns generally made us feel comfortable, even when we were clearly unfamiliar with local customs. Greece is understandably accustomed to international visitors, and tourism plays an enormous role in its economy, something that was apparent as we heard all kinds of languages while strolling through the city's streets. I later learned that the industry directly supports roughly one in seven jobs, which helps explain how deeply tourism is woven into everyday commercial life. Still, I found myself wondering how I'd feel if my own neighborhood were constantly filled with tourists photographing buildings, crowding restaurants, and interrupting ordinary routines. In places like Plaka, where the streets are beautiful and the atmosphere is lively, it's easy for us as visitors to appreciate the experience without fully considering what it means for the people who actually live there.

That thought became more interesting after a conversation with our Hertz rental agent. He mentioned that there had been a demonstration in Athens on Wednesday, the same day our Cape Sounion tour operator unexpectedly changed our pickup location out of concern for possible road closures. At the time, it had simply been an inconvenience for us, resulting in a last-minute scramble to find the correct meeting point. According to the agent, however, housing affordability was among the issues provoking frustration, particularly for university students who moved to Athens for school and struggled to find somewhere affordable to live. He described students needing to find jobs just to cover rent and basic expenses, while suitable employment wasn't always easy to find. He was also rather critical of the government's response, which he felt had done too little to address the problem.

I became curious enough to look into the demonstration afterward and discovered that students and teachers had indeed been protesting in central Athens over education funding, wages, and rising living costs, with student housing among the concerns being raised. Some university students had even set up tents in Syntagma Square to draw attention to the difficulty of finding affordable accommodation. Having spent so many years in higher education myself, I found their concerns particularly meaningful. Pursuing an education already demands considerable time, effort, and personal commitment, and I can only imagine how much more difficult that becomes when something as fundamental as securing an affordable place to live is an ongoing struggle. Learning more about the demonstration also cast our own experience that afternoon in an entirely different light. While we were rushing through the city trying to catch a minibus to see an ancient temple, people nearby were protesting issues that directly affected their ability to study, work, and build a future. I couldn't help thinking about how differently the same afternoon must have felt depending on whether you were visiting Athens for a few days or trying to establish a life there.

Our Hertz agent also made a comment that stayed with me. He described Greece as a "Western country" that, in his opinion, didn't always feel like one in terms of living standards, economic opportunity, and the way institutions functioned. He was particularly frustrated by what he perceived as widespread corruption and government inefficiency. I wasn't entirely sure what to make of his observation, especially since Greece is clearly part of the Western political and cultural world and has played such a significant role in its history. But I don't think he was really questioning the country's identity. Rather, he seemed to be expressing frustration with the gap between what people might expect from a developed European country and the difficulties they encounter in everyday life. I looked into some of the issues he mentioned and found that concerns about housing, wages, and public institutions are indeed part of the broader conversation in Greece. Of course, one person's frustrations don't necessarily represent an entire country, and a few days of vacation certainly don't give us enough perspective to judge its politics or institutions. Still, his comments reminded me that the comfortable and welcoming Greece we were experiencing as tourists could coexist with genuine difficulties for the people who live there.

I've probably mentioned the weather a dozen times already, but it deserves another mention because it genuinely influenced how much we enjoyed the trip. Throughout our stay, daytime temperatures were generally somewhere between 65 and 75 degrees Fahrenheit, which felt nearly perfect to us after living in New England. It was warm enough to spend most of the day outdoors comfortably but cool enough that walking through cities and climbing hillsides didn't become unbearable. What impressed us most was the remarkable lack of wind. Whether we were standing above the Aegean Sea at Cape Sounion, exploring the mountains near Delphi, or looking across the extraordinary rock formations of Meteora, the air was often almost completely still. At times, it felt as though the entire country had been placed beneath an enormous glass dome, protected from the wind while still enjoying all the warmth and sunshine of the Mediterranean.

In the shade, it felt pleasantly cool, while stepping into direct sunlight provided just enough warmth to make everything comfortable. We frequently saw locals wearing jackets and additional layers while we were perfectly happy in lighter clothing, which made us wonder whether years of New England winters had permanently recalibrated our understanding of comfortable weather. Almost every local we spoke with told us that October was a particularly pleasant time to visit, since the intense summer heat had subsided while the Mediterranean climate still offered plenty of warmth and sunshine. We were probably fortunate with the unusually calm conditions, but it was difficult to imagine better weather for the kind of exploring we were doing.

We were also pleasantly surprised by how affordable many everyday expenses seemed. There were certainly tourist traps, particularly near major attractions, and some of the luxury hotel prices were difficult to justify. The €170 swim shorts at Conrad will probably remain one of my favorite examples. Outside those situations, however, we generally found dining and smaller purchases reasonably priced compared with what we'd expect at home. On our final morning, for example, we bought two breakfast sandwiches, several additional bakery items, a freshly squeezed mixed-fruit juice for me, and coffee for Marissa, and the entire purchase came to less than €17. It was exactly the kind of simple, good-quality breakfast that would likely cost substantially more in many American cities.

Breakfast at the airport was unexpectedly affordable and substantial. Sandwiches, juice, and coffee gave us something pleasant to focus on while the reality of leaving Greece settled in.

Our rental-car representative had also suggested that Greece could be an excellent place to live if your income came from another country, and based on our experience, I could certainly understand why. Someone earning a relatively strong American salary while spending part of the year in Greece might enjoy considerably more purchasing power, particularly for dining, everyday services, and certain housing markets. But after learning a little more about local wages, I began to appreciate how important that distinction is. Out of curiosity, I looked into what people working in professions similar to ours might earn in Greece, and the differences were striking. Airline pilots and hospital physicians here can earn substantially less than their counterparts in the United States, despite the extensive training, responsibility, and demanding schedules associated with both professions. It made me realize that what feels inexpensive to us when converting dollars into euros may not feel inexpensive at all to someone earning a local salary. A €17 breakfast might be an excellent bargain from our perspective, while a family living on Greek wages could experience the same prices very differently.

More than once, particularly while looking out over the coastline or enjoying the view from our hotel in Kastraki, we found ourselves imagining what it would be like to spend longer periods of time in Greece. The idea of owning a modest house overlooking the sea and spending a couple of months here each year became increasingly appealing. Being able to wake up to a coastal view, enjoy the sunshine, explore nearby towns, and escape part of the colder New England season sounds like a wonderful arrangement. Whether that dream would be practical is another question, but the fact that we were seriously entertaining it after only a few days says something about how much we enjoyed being here.

There is also something remarkable about how easily Greece combines experiences that would ordinarily require several different trips. In four days, we walked through the birthplace of the modern Olympic movement, explored ancient temples associated with some of the most influential ideas in Western civilization, visited a sanctuary where people once sought guidance from an oracle, drove through beautiful mountains and agricultural valleys, and stood inside a monastery built on top of an enormous rock. We also swam in a natural lake, wandered through village grocery stores, encountered turtles and parrots in the middle of Athens, and spent evenings enjoying food in historic neighborhoods. The range of experiences within a relatively small geographic area was extraordinary, and there were moments when we felt as though we'd entered an entirely different country simply by driving a couple of hours away from the capital.

Looking back, one thing I would do differently is spend more time learning about Greek history, mythology, and religion before arriving. We had a general understanding of the major landmarks, but there were several occasions when we found ourselves standing in front of an extraordinary structure without fully appreciating its significance. I knew who Athena, Apollo, and Poseidon were in broad terms, but I didn't know enough about the stories, rituals, or historical circumstances associated with their sanctuaries to make all the connections while we were there. The same was true at Delphi, where understanding the influence of the Oracle and the significance of the Pythian Games made the archaeological site considerably more interesting. At Meteora, learning about Eastern Orthodox monastic traditions and the reasons people deliberately sought such extreme isolation added another dimension to what might otherwise have been simply an impressive collection of buildings perched on rocks.

That experience reminded me that the value of visiting a historical site often depends partly on what we bring to it. A ruined foundation may appear to be nothing more than a collection of stones until you understand the activities, beliefs, and people associated with it. Once those connections become clearer, the landscape begins to tell a story. I still think some archaeological sites could do a better job providing visitors with visual reconstructions and accessible explanations, particularly for those who don't already possess a detailed understanding of the history. The Ancient Agora was a good example, where the reconstructed Stoa of Attalos gave us a much clearer impression of the original environment than the scattered foundations surrounding it. At the same time, I recognize that we could have prepared ourselves more thoroughly, and that even a little background knowledge would probably have made the discoveries more rewarding without turning the vacation into an academic exercise.

Even something as simple as encountering the Delphic sayings "Know thyself" and "Nothing in excess" gave us an opportunity to connect an ancient place with ideas that remain relevant today. I found it particularly interesting that visitors seeking divine guidance were confronted with principles encouraging self-awareness and moderation. Those ideas seem just as applicable to contemporary decisions as they were thousands of years ago, even if our own itinerary wasn't exactly an exercise in restraint. There was certainly some irony in reflecting on the importance of moderation while attempting to see as much of Greece as humanly possible in four days.

Would we recommend Greece to others? Absolutely, and without much hesitation. The food was excellent, the people were welcoming, the landscapes were extraordinary, and the historical and cultural richness of the country exceeded our expectations. I would particularly recommend exploring beyond Athens and the famous islands, because places like Delphi and Meteora gave us an entirely different appreciation for what Greece has to offer. I would also encourage people to leave some room for unplanned discoveries. Some of our most memorable experiences weren't on the itinerary at all, whether it was watching schoolchildren have PE at the Panathenaic Stadium, discovering an extraordinary roadside viewpoint between Delphi and Kastraki, or sitting outside with champagne while the illuminated Meteora rocks rose above the village.

As our flight carries us back toward the United States, I'm realizing that what made this trip special wasn't simply the number of places we managed to visit. It was the experience of discovering a country together, comparing what we saw with the lives we're accustomed to, asking questions, occasionally disagreeing, laughing at unexpected situations, and imagining what it might be like to return someday with more time and fewer obligations. We came away with beautiful photographs and a much greater appreciation for Greece, but also with a long list of things we'd like to understand better and places we'd still like to explore. For a vacation we'd been putting off for far too long, that feels like a pretty meaningful outcome, and I suspect this won't be our last trip to Greece.