Ljubljana, Slovenia: medieval and modern charm

Jubilantly at Lyoo-blyah-nah ( that is how it is pronounced)

On our way from Opatija, Croatia, to Maribor, Slovenia, we stop by Slovenia's capital, Ljubljana. The route has been green and mountainous until we arrive at the gardens in the city. It is a Sunday.  There's free parking. 

Ljubljana: Where Dragons Guard a City of Stories

After checking several times that the parking really is free, we finally cross the grounds toward a quiet street where a museum and church stand side by side, the river glimmering just beyond them. What begins as a simple walk quickly turns into a journey through centuries.

A City Between Past and Present

The streets bordering the park feel like a conversation between eras. Sleek glass and steel buildings rise beside colourful facades that still carry traces of the city’s past. Ljubljana is modern and elegant.

And then, almost without warning, the city shifts. The banks of the river that runs through the city, leads us straight into another century. A quiet fascination engulfs us.  We could have been in Austria!

Defined by Pedestrian only bridges

We are on the famous Triple Bridge – one of the links between Ljubljana’s modern heart and its medieval soul. This 20th century bridge connects the bustling modern city to the enchanting Old Town, where cobbled streets, Baroque churches, and riverside cafés automatically slow our wandering pace and draw our gaze. How thoughtful of the authorities to add oblique extensions to an existing stone arch bridge that would have otherwise turned into a bottleneck

Guarded by dragons

Dragons everywhere –a green one perching proudly on the iconic Nouveau style Dragon Bridge, guarding the city with wings outstretched and fierce expressions.

More dragons watch over the city from Ljubljana Castle, high on the hill above the old town. Not surprising that with so many legends woven into its streets the dragon appears on the city’s coat of arms.

Love and Legend

Beyond the Triple Bridge and Dragon Bridge is the whimsical Butcher’s Bridge, covered in countless love locks left behind by hopeful couples seeking eternal romance,  not with the originally intended roof.

The Ljubljanica River winds beneath them all, threading through the city before eventually joining the Danube on its journey to the Black Sea.

Drinking song elevated 

At the center of the old town is Prešeren Square, named after Slovenia’s national poet, whose poem,originally conceived as a drinking song, is now the country’s national anthem. True to the song the square hums with life: street musicians, cafés, markets, and the constant flow of people crossing the Triple Bridge.

Baroque and Austrian

Nearby stands the pink Franciscan Church of the Annunciation, while a short walk away sits Ljubljana Cathedral, also known as Saint Nicholas’ Church,standing beside the town hall, with its impressive Baroque interiors and bronze doors added during a papal visit in 1996. The courtyard in the town hall charms with its fountain and its old staircase reminiscent of the Titanic.

A City Best Explored Slowly

What makes Ljubljana unforgettable is not just its architecture or history, but its atmosphere. There is a softness to the city — relaxed riverside cafés, open-air markets, hidden courtyards, and streets that seem to invite wandering without destination.One moment we are admiring sleek modern design, the next we are standing beneath a medieval tower listening to church bells echo across the river.

Markets: old and new

Nearby the Square is Galerija Emporium, the first department store in Slovenia, built in the art du Mode French style. The old market and a modern  farmer’s market do a thriving business especially of local handicrafts.

Hilltop castle dominates

The 12th century  Ljubljana Castle rises above the city, offering sweeping views over the rooftops and the river below. The walk up takes us through Medieval buildings lining the cobblestoned windy path upward and a series of stairs. 

The museum

A quick peek into the museum with its Art Nouveau masterpieces and we are ready to leave the city, to explore yet another.

From Medieval Bones to Baroque Beauty

The Ljubljana region has been inhabited for over 6000 years. The capital is also the largest city in Slovenia. In 1985 it faced  a devastating earthquake. Much of the city was rebuilt in such a way as to retain its charm while becoming modern.

Ljubljana is not a city that overwhelms. Being compact and easily navigable it is easily explored on foot. It has a quiet charm.

Cartagena, columbia: coffee, culture and drugs.

 

Cruise Ship Clashes in Colonial Cartagena

Our cruise liner and another are docked in Cartagena. At the dock we find a group of people trying to book a guided tour (always much cheaper than the ship's ’ shore excursions) of the Old Town. They have space for us. It is only after we board our van that we realise that we are a mixed group ( from both ships). Among us is an elderly passenger from the other ship whose priorities are very different from everyone else’s. Before the tour had even begun, she insists on being taken shopping first. No one else agreed. The driver promises to drop her at the shops after the tour, but she remains visibly grumpy throughout. History, architecture and culture hold no appeal for her — only shopping matters.

Reasons for visiting other countries: Shopping or culture?

It’s a familiar cruise-ship phenomenon. In Olympia, some passengers ignore the ancient ruins altogether, only to complain bitterly later when the shops are closed for the afternoon siesta. To them, the Greeks seemed lazy and uninterested in making money. They are,sad to say, missing entirely the rhythm and traditions of local life.

Wandering the Walled City

We are in The heart of Cartagena which lies within its UNESCO-listed Walled City, where thick coral-stone walls once protected residents from pirates and invaders. Cobbled lanes wind past brightly painted mansions with ornate balconies, now transformed into boutique hotels, galleries, restaurants and cafés.

Music spills from open windows while Colombian flags flutter overhead. History emerges around every corner.

Former beauty pageant winners are commemorated on memorial tiles made of dark polished stone, possibly marble, set directly into the outdoor pavement.

The bronze statues, representing local life, featured in Plaza de la Trinidad are part of a series celebrating Cartagena's culture and history within the historic Getsemaní neighborhood of Cartagena, Colombia.

The plaza is a popular gathering spot known for its lively atmosphere, street food vendors, and vibrant murals.

Fortresses, Pirates and Colonial Shadows

Towering above the city is Castillo San Felipe de Barajas, the largest fortress in South America. Built after Sir Francis Drake attacked Cartagena in 1586, the immense stronghold evolved over centuries into a masterpiece of military engineering.

We only see it from a distance knowing fully well that inside are narrow tunnels designed to trap and confuse invaders. It is easy to imagine the sweeping views of the old and new Cartagena from atop.

The gruesome shadow

Nearby, the Palacio de la Inquisición offers a darker glimpse into colonial history, said to display chilling torture devices once used against alleged heretics and witches.

Churches that Tell Stories

Cartagena’s churches are woven deeply into its history.

Cathedral of Santa Catalina de Alejandría is one of the oldest cathedrals in the Americas dominating the historic centre with its elegant dome and colonial grandeur.

Church of San Pedro Claver honours the Jesuit priest known as the “Apostle of the Slaves,” remembered for his compassion toward enslaved Africans.

Church of Santo Domingo is famous for its crooked bell tower and nearby Botero sculpture, La Gorda Gertrudis.

Church of Santa Toribio, the last church built inside the walled city, is also considered a colonial treasure.

Getsemaní: From Gritty to Bohemian

Just beyond the old walls lies Getsemaní, once a working-class district and now the city’s artistic soul. Narrow streets draped with colourful umbrellas and pennants burst with murals, music and nightlife.

The bronze statues representing local life featured in the Plaza de la Trinidad, in theGettsemani neighbourhood region are part of a series celebrating Cartagena's culture and history. 

The plaza is a popular gathering spot known for its lively atmosphere, street food vendors, and vibrant murals. We are aware that by night, the alleys transform into open-air bars and restaurants pulsing with Caribbean energy. Plaza de la Trinidad becomes a lively meeting point filled with street musicians, food vendors and people lingering over drinks late into the evening.

Parks, Sloths and Evening Strolls

Cartagena’s parks and plazas are perfect for wandering as the heat softens in the early evening. Walking from Getsemaní toward Plaza de los Coches leads through the leafy Parque del Centenario, surprisingly rich with wildlife. Monkeys leap through the trees while sloths and tropical birds hide in the canopy above busy city streets.

Coffee, Craftsmanship and Caribbean Flavour

Mornings in Cartagena begin best with Colombian coffee. At Época Café in the Centro Histórico, rich local brews come with notes of coconut, chocolate and butter, paired with traditional arepas or indulgent waffles topped with hollandaise sauce and bacon salt.

For art and artisan crafts, the Museo de Arte Moderno showcases Colombian and Latin American artists, while nearby Ajá Company sells beautifully crafted handbags and handmade products using natural fibres and raw materials.

Forget the drugs : remember an Empire 

Even though we have a skewed view of Columbia as a drug exporter we forget that Cartagena was once one of the Spanish Empire’s most important ports — exporting South American silver while importing enslaved Africans. In the 16th century it was a centre of immense colonial wealth and power, where Spanish colonisers, indigenous communities, European traders, enslaved Africans and later Middle Eastern migrants all converged.

Cultural collisions shaped the Cartagena of today: Afro-Caribbean rhythms, Spanish colonial grandeur and Indigenous traditions blend into a city alive with music, colour and flavour. Palm trees sway in the sea breeze, sunsets wash the sky pink and gold, and balconies overflow with tropical flowers

The Real Magic of Cartagena

Cartagena’s greatest charm lies not simply in its monuments, but in its atmosphere — the fusion of cultures, histories and contradictions. It is a city where colonial splendour coexists with painful history, where Caribbean music echoes through centuries-old streets, and where travellers searching only for shopping often miss the deeper riches surrounding them.

We did not perk ourselves with Colombian coffee, did not duck into tunnels and narrow spaces. Overall a very pedestrian friendly old town.

Athens-like Nafpolion: Greece's first modern capital

Where is it?

Nafpolion is a coastal town lying along the mountainous  Poloponnese region in the peninsula at the southern tip of Greece. Another city on its coast, Kalamata, is renowned for its olives. Nafpolion was the first modern capital of Greece. In fact, I found it easy to draw resemblances to Athens as you shall in the following paragraphs.

it is also referred to as the ‘Naples of the East’ because of the predominant Venetian architecture.

Venetian-Ottoman-Venetian-Greek: shifts and transformations

Our arrival doesn’t begin on land, but on water—the city exposes itself slowly as our tender glides across a glassy, calm sea. Then, almost dramatically, a lone fortress rises into view. Perched on a sliver of island just 450 meters from the harbor, it is close enough to attack and far enough to dominate. It is unmistakably Venetian with its geometrically graceful heavy bastions.

It has lived many lives having stood firm against Ottoman fleets, later taking on somber duties as a place of execution, and—unexpectedly—metamorphed into a luxury hotel in the 1930s. 

But the story doesn’t end at sea level. Looming above the town, the Palamidi Fortress sits atop a 200-meter hill with its legendary 900 steps or so. Just below it rests Akronafplia,which is older still—a Bronze Age stronghold that once enclosed the entire town. Invasion after invasion, empire by empire, the defenses evolved: the Venetians fortified, the Ottomans claimed, the Venetians returned and fortified again. By the early 20th century, these same walls had become a prison, their purpose once again transformed.What was built to repel and confine has softened into something far more inviting—its stones no longer braced for attack, but open to those curious enough to wander through centuries of reinvention.

The moat that was

The city’s moat is now filled with soil instead of water. We enter through the historic Land Gate, first built in the 18th century and rebuilt in the 1970s. A lion sculpture above—symbolizing Venice—still seems to guard the passage between past and present. Once the only land entrance, it was protected by the sea as a natural moat and a wooden drawbridge (now fixed). Those who arrived after sunset were left outside the walls for the night..

From the gate, we walk through a park at the base of the hill, where bursts of green vie against time worn stone walls above us. The path leads us along the coastline where the sea stretches out beside us, bright and inviting. Along the way we pass a stone-enclosed pool: a small, sheltered pocket of water that seems almost cradled by the land.

Eventually, we reach the public beach. Here, the grandchildren rush forward into the Argolic waters, which are so clear that the rocks at the bottom are visible through the shimmering surface. Their laughter carries easily in the open air as they splash and cool off. Afterward, they gleefully rest briefly on the pebbly shore, catching their breath before we continue.

We follow the coastline carved directly into the pinkish rock with red veins as it curves around the fortress. When we arrive at the staircase that leads up to the Palamidi Fortress, we pause but decide against the imposing climb. Instead, we take the longer but gentler 1 km route, circling the base of  the hill along a paved coastal walkway beneath the Akronafplia fortress. 

A Stroll Through the Naples of the East

The route leads us into the old town, where we almost immediately find ourselves wandering through streets that narrow into winding passages. They twist and turn, sometimes opening onto stairways that seem to invite us to slow down and absorb the historic atmosphere. Our pace naturally eases to a stroll as we become enclosed in a maze of charm and history.

All around us stand neoclassical two-storey houses, their arched doorways adorned with delicate Venetian Gothic details set against soft pastel walls. At times, an unexpected Ottoman feature catches the eye, adding another layer to the town’s rich architectural tapestry. Above, wrought-iron balconies overflow with flowers, bringing bursts of colour to the scene.

Every now and then, we come across quaint little shops tucked into corners and narrow spaces, each one adding to the old town’s quiet character. Along one sloping road, the view suddenly opens to the sea. The small, modest houses here hint at the area’s past as a fishermen’s quarter—some of those fishermen, it seems, still call these homes their own.

Domes, bells and towers

As we wander through the winding maze of narrow streets—past a fishmonger here, a greengrocer there—a tower suddenly rises into view, arresting the children’s attention. Its weathered brick base, worn and exposed by time, seems almost humble beneath the structure it supports. Above, the tower soars upward, tier upon tier of bells suspended in quiet anticipation, as though ready to echo across centuries. It belongs to the Church of Panagia, dedicated to the Virgin Mary—though the church itself, for all its history, draws only passing notice from the young.

Not far beyond, another bell tower appears, this one more restrained—a simple 19th-century belfry standing in service of an older, 18th-century church. Yet simplicity belies significance. This is the Church of Saint Spyridon, a place etched into history as the site of the assassination of Greece’s first governor. The air here feels heavier, as if the past has not quite loosened its grip.The character is unmistakably Ottoman, a quiet testament to the town's layered history. Inside, the space unfolds into a tapestry of faiths and eras: Byzantine icons glow from the walls, intricate paintings depict stories of devotion, and among them appear unexpected symbols—like the Star of David –acomplex heritage gathered within a single place.

By now, we find ourselves in the very heart of the old town. Ahead stands a building crowned with a striking roof—its surface unfolding into a series of shallow, flattened domes reminiscent of those in Istanbul. It was a mosque probably built in the late 1500's and one of Nafplio's oldest buildings. The building was once profanely used as a movie theatre by the name of Trianon. The occasional  theatre performance still takes place here.

A hub of activity

It's all foot traffic in the old town's  square. The roads are paved with marble that reflects light both night and day. Surrounding the square are neoclassical buildings. The palm trees demarcate various sections of the park right down the centre. There is no lack of outdoor cafes and restaurants. 

‘Sour’ oranges, cafes and hats, a school

The side walks along the historic facades are planted with orange trees that are heavy with fruit. Our mouths water. To our delight we find one that has fallen under the tree. Eagerly popping segments in our mouths we wince. It is not sour, but bitter! The abundance is stunning. Do they all go to waste? These trees are ornamental,and therefore, yes. But,No. In Greek kitchens they are transformed into marmalade, candied peel, or  delightfully sugary Greek spoon sweets. In cities like Athens or Valencia, the trees seem perfectly aware of their role—not as providers of edible fruit, but ornamental, offering fragrant spring blossoms and just enough visual appeal.

The boys are fascinated by a wooden fence beside a sidewalk cafe decorated with hanging flower pots and  reminders about how to make it a lovely day! It's a good excuse to hang around the cafe and smell the wafting aroma of coffee. Good food,and good vibes.!

With a skip and a hop the children wander through the  shops adding to the vibrancy of the town. Until  a shop with rows of straw and Panama hats catches their eye. They express an interest in these hats and we think they deserve them. .” What starts as a simple choice quickly escalates into an adventure. They try various hats for size and what they see of themselves in a mirror! the shopkeeper’s polite nods and encouraging ‘greek’ purchases are made. The satisfied customers now have a jaunty walk with their new possessions perched on their heads.

Just outside of the old town there is another draw. It's a school and young men are playing soccer. There's also a row of modern housing. But there is little time to explore this pRt of the city. We have to make our way back to the pier where a tender awaits uus.

Why is Nafpolion Athens-like?

Nafpolioni's old town with its picturesque cobbled streets, and neoclassical buildings are very like that in Plaka Athens, only bigger

Both are at the foot of citadels.

Both have Syntagma Square,  the main plaza, where all the government buildings are, Nafpolion’s being paved in marble.

Trivia 

Generally we associate Easter with renewal.

But, in Nafpoion, well-decorated coffins are placed in the churches to mark . On Good Friday the coffins are carried to Syntagma Square and then, of course, the party begins.

Athens,Greece: further reaches

The overlooked: Persitiri

Spelt  Περιστέρι in Greek. It is fun reading out street names and others spelt out in Greek using the alphabets we use in Math and Physics.

We find this place by accident when we spy a stadium while on a local bus from Syntagma towards the north. Then a church that  looks like that in Monastiraki comes into view.  And that's when we decide to explore Peristeri, for that is what this suburb is called. It's Greek for pigeon-dove. 

The area lives up to its name. It is quiet and peaceful as we walk up to the indoor basketball arena named for Papandreou, a former Greek prime minister.

The street is like a shopping mall in any suburb with bakeries and souvenir  shops – everyday markets and family businesses– selling olive oil, herbs and soaps. The stroll takes us towards  the  cathedral– the metropolitan orthodox cathedral – with its large central dome, symmetrical bell towers, and a cream colored stone and marble facade typical of Athens. The arched windows and decorative brickwork reflect Byzantine influence. 

Had we entered the church at an appropriate hour we would have heard Byzantine chants.

The thrill of discovery.

We are actually in the central square and beside us is a glass dome. What could it house?  The landmark is the sky light of the metro station below. Again we have the urban and the ancient existing in aesthetic harmony.  The skylight allows sunlight to the station levels. We find that it will take us to Piraeus and therefore we do.

Olympic Stadium

On another trip to Athens — this time with the grandchildren — the Olympic Stadium was high on their bucket list. From Syntagma Square we boarded the train, excitement building with every stop, until the great arches of the Olympic Stadium rose before us.

With its sweeping roof suspended from two colossal arches the immense structure seems to float above the arena, yet it is engineered to withstand fierce winds and even powerful earthquakes.

And then came the detail that left us speechless: even the lawn can move.It is not rooted in the earth but grown in 6,000 interlocking plastic capsules spread across the stadium floor. Automated sprinklers rise  water the grass according to a programme. When space for another grand event is needed, the entire lawn can be rolled away outside the stadium, transforming the space as if by magic.

Everything about the stadium speaks of scale and imagination. The roof stretches across 25,000 square metres, weighs nearly 19,000 tons, and glows beneath thousands of translucent panels. Standing beneath those soaring arches, with the grandchildren staring upward in wonder, it felt less like visiting a stadium and more like stepping into a monument to human ambition.

Watched over

A bus ride through the main thoroughfares reveals more modern structures with Greek embellishments housing universities and government offices. Everywhere the Acropolis looms fully into view—not just  a distant landmark, but something that watches over modern Greece in silence.

Doing justice to Piraeus

Not just a port

During our first trip to Athens, we begin our exploration of Piraeus, the port, only when we return to the port and we have a few hours before the ship leaves. Our bus drops us close to the railway station from which the port is along walk. We are astounded at the elegant 1920s railway station, where the historic overground Line 1 meets the modern Metro.  The station’s striking glass-roofed train hall and vintage ticket area before stepping into the atmospheric Old Market streets nearby, filled with local character and everyday Greek city life.

Just across the road lies the legendary Port of Piraeus, where ferries constantly depart for the Greek Islands. From the pedestrian bridge we enjoy watching ships glide in and out of the harbour. It is, without a doubt, Greece’s energetic gateway to the islands and one of the busiest ports in the Eastern Mediterranean. 

In a little park we find Poseidon astride with his trident.

On the edge of this neighbourhood, we notice the imposing Agia Triada, the cathedral of Piraeus, which faces the port. An original church on this spot was constructed in 1839, but was destroyed by a bomb in WW2, then  reconstructed in the 1950s in Byzantine style, using beautiful painted iconography and incorporating whatever remained of the older church.

More than just the harbour of Athens, Piraeus is a vibrant city with its own lively atmosphere

Athens neighbourhoods

Unbeatable views 

From atop the Acropolis we get spectacular views, stretching to the Aegean sea, of the various neighbourhoods of Athens: the ancient Agora, Plaka, Monastiraki and Philippopolis Hill.

The magnet:Agora

Beneath the revered hill of the Acropolis lies the ancient Agora, all in ruins —quiet reminders of what was once a vast and intricate marketplace. Here stood an assembly of administrative buildings, temples, altars, shaded arcades, and fountains around an open square. It was here that ordinary citizens gathered to debate, shape policy, and cast votes on the laws that guided Athens.

The Agora was not just a center of commerce and governance. The city’s mint, where silver currency was struck, operated here. 

Opposite the Acropolis

Another direction presents to us a conspicuous monument that sits atop  Philippopolis hill close to the Agora. It was built for a most beloved  man, one of Athen’s most important benefactors.

It is believed that Socrates, the philosopher, was imprisoned in the rock-cut chambers on the slopes of this Hill .

Not so ‘Little Monastery’?

Yet another reveals Monastiraki with its unmistakable church domes.

Plaka placates

The entrance gate we took to the Acropolis( right beneath it) is in  Plaka, the oldest section of Athens. Close by are the temple of Zeus and Hadrian's Gate. The whole area, being pedestrians only, is rather quiet. It's hard to believe that once it was a nightclub district. Strictly enforced government rules successfully reduced the racket of loud music. Now there are plenty of souvenir shops and restaurants. Even though the area has become commercial, it retains a quiet charm.

 Anafiotika: a secret island of defiance

As we climb, the air cools and the city noise tapers into a distant murmur. Whitewashed houses are squeezed together, their walls cracked with age, their paths uneven underfoot. Bougainvillea pours over in bright cascades over rooftops and balconies. The passages narrow into a disorienting maze. Have we wondered too far? Then, a dead end—and suddenly, it’s there. The Acropolis, the ‘high city’ rises above us.

Legend says Anafiotika was built in the 19th century by stone masons from the island of Anafi, who came to Athens to work and secretly constructed their homes at night, defying authority. Stone by stone, they recreated a fragment of their island life—hidden, resilient, and enduring.

Syntagma Square marches on with pom poms

We walk from Plaka to Syntagma Square, which lies at the heart of Athens, as the old Royal Palace—now the Greek Parliament – does. We see soldiers on guard and sense that something is going to happen as the crowd slowly swells. 

We are in for a treat. The guards, the Evzones,are moving! Within minutes a spectacular show takes place just a few feet away. The ritual of changing the guards takes place with meticulously choreographed  moves  synced to the marching band.

Their feet are clad in clogs topped with black pom poms,  Once they concealed blades!. Feet are raised high. When they descend with a cracking sound  the ground vibrates while the pom- poms sway every which way!

The rhythm continues to haunt us as we amble through the rest of the square in which parades and celebrations are held. It bustles with life. Behind the tomb is a garden, an oasis in the middle of a bustling area, which has an interesting story behind it.The event marked a turning point in history that made Greece what it is today.               

Monastiraki: tourist hot spot 

Yet another square that appealed to us from atop the Acropolis for its  flat domed building. We are surrounded by eager tourists, patrons of the flea market, roof top restaurants and cafes. The old meets the new. Not only are we treated to views of the Acropolis but also landmarks from the various eras viz Byzantine (Pantanassa Church),  Ottoman( Tzistarakis Mosque) and Roman(Hadrian’s Library).  

We pass by a hat shop that draws the attention of the grandchildren. We quietly steer them away so we have time to see the Olympic Stadium on their bucket list.             

Acropolis,Athens, Greece: History and Myth

We approach the foot of the rocky hill of pinkish bluish marble veined in red. The gentle slope takes us up towards the 3,300 year old citadel that variously served as a fortress,a shrine and a centre of political power. The place that reflects the ideas, art, and culture of the society that shaped world philosophy is breathtaking in more ways than one.

No match for a tortoise 

Physically the walk is steep and demanding as the morning heat intensifies. To our amusement, we find a tortoise climbing alongside us, retreating into its shell or into the cooler spaces under rocks every now and then. The grandchildren try to ‘keep up with it’ but after a few minutes they lose patience!Apparently the species thrives in the Mediterranean environment and sofrequently spotted living and wandering freely among the ruins of the Acropolis and its slopes, as well as nearby areas like the Acropolis Museum. 

Enthroned for a spectacle 

We emerge from distraction and lift our gaze—only to be met by ruins of staggering magnitude. Before us unfolds the unmistakable form of a theatre: rising tiers carved into the rock. Closest to the stage, throne-like seats stand in solemn dignity, once reserved for figures of great import—the honored, the powerful, perhaps even the Priest of Dionysus himself.

As we climb higher, the view expands into something almost overwhelming. The full sweep of the structure reveals itself, vast and commanding, a testament to a civilization that was built not merely for function, but for awe. From this lofty vantage, we can almost hear the echoes—voices that once carried tragedy, laughter, and biting satire into the open air, filling the immense space with the pulse of human drama.

Marble seating, a façade of looping stone: the world’s first theatre

Before us stands a grand structure on the slopes of the Acropolis, both imposing and ethereal. A vast wall with sweeping arches stretches across multiple tiers, more like portals than windows.

This is the Odeon of Herodes Atticus—an ancient theatre that once held 5,000 people and still hosts performances today. Dedicated to Dionysus, the god of theatre and ecstasy, it has echoed with human emotion for centuries.

Marble seats cascade in worn, graceful rows, tracing the theatre’s early origins. The façade once rose in three levels of arches. Now, only two remain.

It’s easy to imagine its former glory—a cedar roof overhead, statues in the arched niches, and audiences alive with anticipation. Even in ruin, the Odeon feels timeless—an enduring monument to art, gathering, and wonder.

An ascent into the ethereal: Propylaea

Our climb leads to a grand staircase and the monumental gateway beyond—a vast hall framed by elegant porticos and rows of slender columns beneath a lofty ceiling.

These columns, though delicate in appearance, carry the weight of the marble roof while keeping the passage open — an elegant balance of strength and grace.

Above, imagine marble slabs painted deep blue and studded with stars. Sunlight filtering through would cast a radiant glow, blurring the line between earth and sky—as if standing beneath a celestial vault of stone.

More than an entrance 

The awe-inspiring Propylaea has housed various occupants over its 2,000-year history. It served as a Byzantine bishop’s palace, a Frankish noble’s residence, and later an Ottoman governor’s home—testament to its enduring architectural significance. At one point, it was even used as a gunpowder store, leading to a destructive explosion.

The crown jewel: Parthenon

Built as a temple-treasury to celebrate victory in the Greco-Persian War, 200years later became a church, then, after another 900 years,an Ottoman mosque.

From afar, the columns appear perfectly straight and uniform—but up close, subtle variations reveal deliberate refinements to correct optical illusions.

https://www.history.com/articles/parthenon-acropolis-ancient-greece-engineering

Destruction, removal and preservation

All it took was a single blast that changed the fate of one of history’s greatest monuments.

During a fierce battle, the gunpowder store near the entrance gate ignited, unleashing an explosion that tore through the Parthenon.  Large sections of the structure collapsed, along with priceless sculptures that once celebrated the artistic and cultural golden age of ancient Athens.

What survived tells only part of the story. Some of these remaining masterpieces now reside in the British Museum, where they are known as the Elgin Marbles. Others remain closer to home, preserved and displayed in the Acropolis Museum—fragments of a legacy that once stood whole.

And then the Cariyatids beckon

A familiar porch, the Porch of the Caryatids, appears in our periphery. Six towering female figures, graceful and resolute, hold the weight of the structure.  Their elegance  blurs the line between sculpture and architecture.  We are actually admiring the replicas while the originals are at the museum. 

On closer inspection we realise that the temple is made of 3 parts each dedicated to  Athena Polias , Poseidon, and the founder Erechtheus( a legendary king) respectively.

A trace of myth colours the history: a hole in the rock roof is said to have been made by Poseidon's trident and Athena's olive tree  during  their dispute for the patronage of the city.

Nike, here we come

A lone structure distant from all the others in the acropolis stands out.  Four monolithic columns grace both the front and rear facades, while the sides remain open to showcase the inner cella.

A strategic location: The sanctuary served as a protective force, guarding the entrance to the Acropolis thereby defending the city as well as ensuring the favour of the gods. On the parapet, there would have been a marble statue of a wingless Nike (adjusting her sandal, and clothes slipping off her shoulder) which is now in the museum

As we walk down the hill checking out cordoned parts of the ruins we help but be dumbfounded by the sheer scale and history of the monuments. The Hercules pillar stands alone. There must be a story behind it!

Piraeus to Acropolis, Athens, Greece

Piraeus to Athens

Our first visit fills us with excitement—we are finally on our way to the Acropolis. We decide we would explore the port of Piraeus later, as soon as we returned. After learning that a bus to Athens city centre departed from just outside the port, heading toward the railway station, we set off on the short walk to catch it.

The port is overwhelmingly crowded. It isn’t just the presence of another cruise liner that day, but the sheer scale of Piraeus itself—Greece’s busiest passenger port, and in fact the largest in Europe, bustling with countless ferry connections.

The wait for the bus feels like an eternity while the crowd continues to swell. When the X-80 Piraeus–Acropolis–Syntagma Express finally arrives, there is some inevitable pushing and shoving. We squeeze in, finding standing room only. Thankfully, the ticket machine works smoothly, and with that small relief, we settle in to simply enjoy the ride. This route, we later learned, had only been introduced a few months before our visit. In about thirty minutes, we arrive at Syntagma Square, ready to begin our exploration.

Columns of columns of magnitude:ravages of nature and time

The Acropolis of Athens rises in quiet majesty above the city, visible from nearly every corner, a constant reminder of ancient grandeur—but our curiosity draws us beyond it, toward other ruins that look monumental with rows and columns of pillars, one solitary and another a pair. As we near these columns it is obvious that many have met their fate. At the entrance to the area we find the information board that tells us we are at the ancient  Temple of Olympian Zeus, once the largest of all Greek temples, a project so ambitious it took nearly a thousand years to approach completion— it was never truly finished. Originally boasting 104 towering Corinthian columns, only about 15 remain upright today. Their placement,  hints at the immense scale the temple once commanded. One column lies where it fell when it succumbed to a storm – proof that not even a colossal monument can withstand nature’s quiet power. This  column  is dramatic in that it lies in distinct, segmental, marble rings!

Inside the temple once stood monumental gold and ivory statues of Zeus and Emperor Hadrian, now entirely lost to time, much like the structure itself. 

Even more interestingly, over the centuries, its stones were stripped away and reused (including as far away as Rome), its purpose shifting from sacred site to quarry. In the early 1800s, a solitary stylite even made a home atop one of its columns, adding a strange, almost surreal chapter to its history. And yet, standing among the remnants today, one can still feel a sense of awe—because even in ruin, the temple endures as a powerful echo of the ambition, devotion, and imagination of the ancient world.

Surrounding the temple are remains of dwellings, Roman baths, the entrance gates and walls.

One or the other: entrance/exit

Just beyond the ruins, we come upon the aristocratic Arch of Hadrian, commanding our attention. Built in 130 AD to mark the arrival of Emperor Hadrian to the city the structure consists of three arched gates in a white marble frame. It once marked a symbolic threshold in the city—a passage not just through space, but through time itself. As we draw closer, its purpose begins to reveal itself: this was more than a decorative gateway: it may have divided two identities of Athens. On one side lay the ancient city of Theseus, rooted in myth and classical heritage, while on the other stood Hadrian’s newer, Roman-influenced Athens. The faint inscriptions seem to echo this division—one side proclaiming, “This is Athens, the old city of Theseus,” and the other asserting, “This is the city of Hadrian and not Theseus.” Standing beneath its three graceful arches, there’s a quiet thrill of discovery, as if we’ve stumbled upon a line once drawn between two worlds, now blurred by centuries.

Missed opportunity

Right down the street stands the Panathenaic Stadium—rebuilt entirely of marble in 1896 for the first modern Olympics, a place where tens of thousands once gathered under the bright Athenian sky. And yet, somehow, I only learned about it after the fact, as if I’d walked past history without realizing it was calling.

The draw

Rising up in a short distance from these ruins is the irresistible Acropolis ( the high city)majestically sitting upon a hill with its aesthetically pleasing columned structures.

Time: Greenwich, London

Gotcha moments.

As avid travellers we are often in different time zones every few days.  We are also frequently crossing the more significant latitudes and longitudes, like the equator, the prime meridian and the International Date Line (zig zagging the 180° longitude across the Pacific Ocean) or referring to Greenwich Mean Time. At one time our cruise liner crossed the 0° latitude and 0° longitude. The captain positioned the vessel in such a way that the swimming pool would be centred over the point. Walking around the swimming pool would be equivalent to stepping into the 4 quadrants of the world. 

Of course, everybody was excited. Some had ringside seats so they could focus on the centre of the pool. As we were walking about we tended to block their view. Believe it or not, a few people were raging mad that we blocked the view. C'mon! We are looking at an imaginary point. 

Incredulous

And then there are a few who swear there is a marker in the ocean to indicate the point. Really? Now I have something to learn. There legally is a buoyant marker but a bit further off, placed there by meteorologists not necessarily to indicate the geographical position.  So we do see Null Island, as the position of the marker is called.

Choices of different kinds

While in London we decide to go to Greenwich where the Royal observatory is located. Smugly we board the train at Victoria Station and alight at Greenwich Station. We are nowhere close to the observatory. No surprise. We hardly do much prep work for must see edifices since we love discovery and adventure more than religiously following tourist maps. And here we are exploring the town. Same time as the observatory. The rest of the world is either behind or ahead in terms of hours according to longitudes and preferences.

We are refreshed by the greenery and fresh air in this posh neighbourhood of London also known for an affordable Market.

A clipper for all the tea in China

The Cutty Sark sits proudly in a maritime history museum. A very British icon of the 19th  century. But, surprise, surprise! It played a big part in Australian and Portuguese maritime history too. A Boston tea party ship!

'Hear ye': Camden, London

Drawn to the Georgian past with fanfare

While exploring London we find ourselves taken to the past. We hear a loud voice booming across a river. “Oyez, Oyez, Oyez!” ( French for “Hear ye, hear ye, hear ye!). Unmistakably he is a town crier for he follows the call by ringing his bell. Where is he? We look around and high and low. How could we have missed this rotund figure in the livery of  buckled shoes, breeches, a waistcoat, greatcoat and a cockaded tricorn hat. No question that a town crier has to be a visible presence as well as an auditory presence, for historically he announces public news or royal proclamations to the then largely illiterate public. This town crier has been hired by Camden Market to  ring about the wonderful things you can do and see at the Market.

Brawn and strategy at Camden Lock.

We find ourselves along the banks of Camden River right opposite where the town crier carried out his job while we watch the Camden Lock being operated. A boat carrying holiday makers ( probably from Little Venice to Camden Lock through Regent's Canal) is about to enter the lock. This traditional, paired set of manual locks is operated by boat crews using hand-wound paddles and massive balance beams to raise or lower vessels. Built in the early 19th century, these locks enable navigating the different water levels, often requiring teamwork to open the heavy gates and manage water levels efficiently. 

Buzz and punk

We’re already in Camden Market—lost in its maze of cobbled paths, where every turn bursts with edgy fashion and raw energy. Waterside cafés hum beside stalls of decadent treats, while multinational cuisine fills the air with irresistible aromas. Handmade jewelry glints next to vintage treasures, and everywhere you look, bold styles demand attention.

This isn’t just a place—it’s an experience. Loud, colourful, unapologetically creative. Punk culture pulses through it all, alive in every corner.

What was once an industrial pocket of horse stables and shipping containers has transformed into a daily surge of life—a thriving food hub and a fearless fashion statement, buzzing with attitude.

Trivia

Camden has been home to many famous people including John Keats, Charles Dickens, George Bernard Shaw and JB Priestley.

Candy, history, airport muddle, crossing borders: Hershey, Gettysburg,Canada

Ideals of equality

Pennsylvania earns its nickname, the Keystone State, for good reason—it stood at the very heart of America’s founding story. This is where the Declaration of Independence was brought to life, setting a new nation in motion. Decades later, its legacy echoed powerfully in Lincoln’s unforgettable Gettysburg Address, delivered on hallowed ground that had witnessed one of the Civil War’s most pivotal battles.

So it’s only fitting that we make our way to Gettysburg, a scenic mere half-hour drive from Harrisburg—a place where history lingers in every field and monument.

Spooky entry

We arrive at the visitor centre at the 6,000 acre Gettysburg National  Military  Park. We opt not to take a guided bus tour. The visitor centre is at the museum which has an indoor display dedicated to the Civil war. 

Down a staircase, a flicker of movement catches our eye—a couple slips past, dressed head to toe in Victorian fashion. A bonnet sways, a hooped skirt rustles, a corset is pulled tight; beside her, a waistcoat, suspenders, and a felt hat complete the illusion. For a heartbeat, it feels like encountering ghosts of the past.

They vanish as quickly as they appear, leaving only the reminder of the morning’s spectacle—Remembrance Day, when the military grounds come alive with a parade of devoted reenactors, marching and mingling in full Victorian dress, blurring the line between past and present.

Surviving a war

As we browse the war artifacts, the spiral ramp pulls us upward, each step heightening the anticipation. By the time we reach the platform at the centre of the cylinder, we’re surrounded. The curving walls close in with sweeping panoramic images—no escape, no protection. Battles erupts on all sides. Lights flash, sounds crack the air, horses seem to neigh in terror, fires flicker. We’re caught in a full 360° assault of motion and noise, the theatrical effects collapsing distance until it feels less like watching and more like being there, right in the middle of it. 

We leave with mixed feelings. Being at the center of a battle—even an imagined one—can be deeply unsettling. It is not only the danger that affects us, but the moral conflict as well. In the end, we are grateful it was only an enactment. We made it through.

Meet and greet

And now, we come face to face with the ever-recognisable Abraham Lincoln—one hand firmly clutching his speech, the other extended in a gesture that feels equal parts statesmanlike and unexpectedly welcoming.

What might have been a solemn, rain-drenched moment—heavy with the weight of his words—was instead given a touch of character, thanks to the quiet heroism of an umbrella, turning solemnity into something just a little more human.

Willy Wonka,here we come

Our host promotes a tour of the Hershey Chocolate factory. Milton Hershey who started the factory is of Pennsylvania  Dutch descent. We enter in the evening when it is quiet. We take the chocolate tour. The ride is a continuous loop each taking only about 3 mins. But it does  showcase how Hershey's milk chocolate is made. The tour includes agricultural scenes, a tropical farm setting, a warm cocoa bean roaster, and a finale with thousands of candies. It's a dream for children and the child in anyone. 

The seasonal adornment for Christmas serves to further enhance the atmosphere, cultivating an elevated sense of cheer, comfort, and collective togetherness.

A heavenly event

While we are there, Harrisburg is hosting a religious event at a local temple, and we take part. Interestingly, cushioned back supports are available for those who choose to sit cross-legged on the floor. We meet friendly strangers while sharing a meal served at the temple. It is certainly meaningful to spend time in a familiar cultural setting, even if only briefly, and it can have a positive effect on one’s sense of identity.

Gee-whiz

Drink has to fly out. He has the tickets. No room for error. Our host drops us at the terminal, and drives off to park. The moment she disappears, something feels wrong. Inside, the airport is unnervingly quiet. No lines. No movement. Just long, empty counters and the faint buzz of lights overhead. We walk farther than we should have to, unease building with every step.

At last, an employee. We hand her the ticket. She studies it. Looks up. Pauses. “You’re in the wrong airport.”

Really? A short drive away, she says—but time is already slipping through our fingers. Our host is parking… or worse, already on the shuttle back. Every second now matters. Panic sets in. We manage to contact her.

Miraculously, she hasn’t boarded the shuttle yet. Minutes later, she’s back at the curb. We throw ourselves and our bags into the car, urgency pressing in from all sides.

Apparently, Dulles Airport, where we are right now, is in Virginia, a state next to Pennsylvania.

Our driver remains calm and composed. She gently apologizes for not checking our departure airport beforehand, though it isn’t really her fault—most people she knows usually fly from Dulles.

We are now making our way toward Washington, D.C. the adjacent state. In the distance, across fields painted in soft autumn colors, the Capitol and the obelisk come into view.

Before long, we arrive at Ronald Reagan Airport, and everything feels settled again.

All’s well that ends well.

The drive back to Canada: Crossing states and countries

The journey begins at a scenic overlook at Samuel S. Lewis State Park, located atop Mount Pisgah, where sweeping panoramic views reveal the surrounding valleys and open landscapes of large grassy fields, wooded trails, and the distant Susquehanna River Valley below. From there, the trip continues as we drive through New York State, passing through steep, forested mountain terrain and crossing a roadway bridge over a wide body of water, probably the Mill Creek bridge over the Tioga Reservoir. Along the route, a quiet rural scene appears with a small-town residential street lined with single-family homes and patches of snow still lingering on the ground, suggesting winter. We arrive at the iconic Peace Bridge in Buffalo, making a major international crossing over the Niagara River.

Penn to Pennsylvania:Harrisburg

Into the bowels of New York City

After a few days in NYC we now head towards Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. 

Penn Station, NYC, is the pulsating heart of the region’s daily commute—whether it's a local trying to get to work or someone rumbling in from another city. Plonked right in the middle of Manhattan, underneath Madison Square ( there's  another story there)it’s impossible to miss (and sometimes, impossible to escape, as we found in yet another train journey a few years later).

Digging for information 

Where we go inside depends entirely on our train and so Drink and I make a dry run the previous day. We are taking Amtrak's Keystone Service and so we have to head over to Moynihan Train Hall, where the ticketing, baggage services, customer help, and actual places to sit are. But we have to stand because all the seats are taken!

Only 15 minutes to locate platform and board

Now, here’s where things get a bit chaotic: the tracks at Penn Station change constantly throughout the day because there are a lot of trains. So instead of assigning tracks early, everyone is kept in suspense. Big electronic boards around the concourse reveal our track number about 15 minutes before departure. 

We have to hurry. No time for dilly dallying. We move quickly to the elevator closest to the platform and in no time at all we are on board. 

At Penn Station, hesitation means missing your train and a frantic aftermath. The dry run made it all nearly tension free.

Urbanscape to farmland

Our train, entirely electric, has comfortable, quiet seating. We leave NYC , cross the Hudson River through a tunnel underneath, and roll towards Philadelphia, aka the Keystone State,  via Newark and Trent in New Jersey. We transition from urban landscapes to the Susquehanna River Valley and farmland. Our three and half hour ride takes us through historic towns, bridges, and rolling hills.

The farms are typical Pennsylvanian Dutch ( a corruption of Deutsch referring to German and so has nothing to do with the Netherlands). The Amish and Mennonites, two of the best known communities of Pennsylvanian Dutch, interestingly, are originally from the southern parts of Switzerland. 

The journey of discovery begins at the station

Stepping into the historic train station in Harrisburg feels like traveling through time. With its charming red brick walls and iconic barn-style roof, this National Historic Landmark is more than just a stop—it’s an experience.

The grand waiting hall is spacious and beautifully designed, with elegant columns and thoughtful spaces that make you want to linger. But the real holiday magic? A captivating model train display that had us completely mesmerized—pressed up against the glass like kids again. 

The Capitol is nothing but capital

Our host leads us through the State Capitol, and from the moment we step inside, we’re captivated. The architecture is breathtaking, the interiors nothing short of extraordinary. We’ve visited the Texas Capitol in Austin and Washington’s in Olympia—but neither comes close to this.

At the heart of it all rises the awe-inspiring dome above the main rotunda—an immense 26,000-ton masterpiece modeled after St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome. Below it, the first floor dazzles with intricate mosaic tiles that vividly tell the story of Pennsylvania—its history, wildlife, and industry woven into the very floor beneath our feet.

Each chamber feels like stepping into a different world. One evokes the elegance of the French Renaissance, with its rich green carpets, Irish marble, polished mahogany desks, and sweeping murals. Another transports us to the Italian Renaissance, glowing under ornate crystal chandeliers and anchored by a monumental painting. In yet another space, the lighting alone creates an unforgettable atmosphere.

Climbing the Grand Staircase, I feel as though I’ve wandered into a Paris opera house. Everywhere I look, Florentine bronze work and luminous stained glass add layers of grandeur and artistry—transforming this seat of government into something almost otherworldly.

A quiet day in the city streets heightens our senses

From the steps of the Capitol, the city begins to reveal itself—not all at once, but in layers. Glass and steel rise confidently into the sky, their reflections catching the light, yet between them stand quieter witnesses to another time. We notice how the modern world simply grew around it.

Just beside a towering skyscraper, almost as if sheltered by it, stands Pine Street Presbyterian Church. Built from solid limestone in 1860, it carries a weight that isn’t just architectural. During the Civil War, it became a place of pause and refuge—a rest station for weary Union soldiers. Even from the street, you can imagine the footsteps that once crossed its threshold.

As our eyes scan the skyline, more stories emerge. A tall steeple rises sharply into view—Grace Methodist Church—its vertical lines drawing our gaze upward. Nearby, a dome curves gently against the horizon, marking the Cathedral of St. Patrick. Each structure speaks in a different voice. They stand up for history and faith.

Our journey continues past Governor’s Row, where rows of historic homes line the streets with a sense of lived-in elegance. These buildings feel less like monuments and more like memories—places where daily life once unfolded, and perhaps still does.

Then comes Shipoke, a neighborhood that holds some of the earliest chapters of the area’s story. One of the first permanent European settlements stood here, long before the city took its current shape. It’s easy to pass by without noticing.

What starts as a simple drive becomes something else entirely becoming a lesson in history.

Divisive and impassable

The Susquehanna River is the longest on the East Coast—and one of its most storied. Once a boundary between North and South, it’s still wild upstream, where rapids make it impassable. Along the riverwalk, though, it’s all beauty: a striking 51-arch bridge overhead and a quirky cow statue left behind from the 2004 Cow Parade.

To be continued in the next blog.