Athens Alive: Marble, Markets, and Modernity

On the southern edge of the city is a large exhibition building called Zappeion, built by the Zappas brothers. It is also made of white marble. This building was opened in 1888 with the Pan-Hellenic Exhibition. The Zappas brothers intended that the building would become a permanent home for a permanent exhibition of Greek industry. The exhibition that was currently on display was very reminiscent of our domestic industry. Especially fabrics and rug weaving, for the weaving industry has a large place here, too. There was also a whole host of plaster works, including copies of old sculptures and new ones, although this industry has not made much progress in Greece. The work of the carpenter cannot be praised; how could the carpenter industry have progressed in a country where wood is so scarce as in Greece? The metal industry is still in complete disarray. But significant advances are being made in the manufacture of wine and spirits, and the sections devoted to these goods, as well as to tobacco, were undoubtedly the best at the exhibition. Greek tobacco is praised as excellent by all smokers.

Generally, the exhibition about the Greek industry gives the impression that it is still taking its first steps. There are few factories in the country, and there is no desire for handicrafts.

However, in Atheena, you will find very good shoemakers and good leather.

[Photo: Library.]

The new theatre, which was, of course, built with private funds, is grand, though poorly decorated. The stock exchange, situated nearby, is a solid and well-built building.

All the public buildings that have been built in Athens at the expense of the state are comparatively insignificant compared to the palaces that private individuals have built. The Chamber of Deputies, situated in a small square along Stadium Street, is a relatively simple building. The ministerial offices attract no attention whatsoever. The churches are generally small and insignificant, and even the cathedral, which was built in the middle of this century from the ruins of several dozen small churches, does not deserve special mention. Of the private buildings, the most magnificent are the hotels, of which there are dozens in Athens.

[Image: Royal Palace and Park.]

The royal castle was built in the 1830s when the king arrived. It is three-storeyed and built of white marble, but the marble is, naughty enough, painted yellow, as if it could not naturally be given a better color. The exterior of the castle is poor in decoration, and the same can be said of the interior.

Behind the castle lies a vast royal park, which was laid out during the time of King Otto on what was previously a barren land. It is the largest park in Athens and showcases what wonders can be achieved under the Greek sky if only care is taken to nurture it. In treeless Attica, it is like an oasis in the desert. Those were the most enjoyable moments I spent in Athens, the moments I spent walking in the shade of this park. The park is famous for its stately palm trees, whose stems are covered with a thick sheath of luxuriant vines. The corridors are crossed here and there, sometimes skirting a small stream, from whose shores turtles jump into the water in fright, sometimes delving into a dark cypress forest or climbing to a small rocky outcrop from which, through the trees, a view opens up either to the blue, high Hymettus, whose wall dominates the entire city or to the sea, which, with its outcrops, headlands, and ships, lies behind Phaleron.

Behind the park, on the outskirts of the city, stands the new palace of the Crown Prince, which remains unfinished. It is also of white marble and decorated with sculptures, which, however, are not very beautiful. This palace is a disgrace in the eyes of the Greeks. Up to now, the Crown Prince has lived in a comparatively very funny-looking house next to Constitution Square, which the Greeks consider quite good enough for such a gentleman, but he has lived — in a shack. After he married the sister of the German Emperor, a new palace was built for him.

The first task for a Nordic person who arrives in Athena and walks its streets in the spring is to get blue glasses. Without them, weak eyes cannot stand it. The roads are not made of stone but of some stone dust, which gradually breaks into fine white dust under the feet of walkers and the wheels of carriages. When the sun begins to shine with all its might from the middle of the sky, the light reflected from the street is so intense that without glasses, one can hardly bear to keep their eyes open. As the spring progresses, the light becomes increasingly unbearable. When it rains, the streets dissolve into a white paste that sticks to the soles of one’s feet so hard that it can’t be torn off with a sharp weapon. It stains everything it touches. In dry weather and wind, dust flies in a single cloud, clogging nostrils and eyes, grinding teeth, covering all clothes with a pale gauze. However, if it is a nuisance to passersby, then that dust is also valuable to others. It is for this reason that the numerous boot shiners who are on every street corner in Athens earn their first million for five lepto. On favorable days, brushmen can gather in a row of a dozen or so on the upper edge of the Constitution Square. They knock on their brush boxes at every passerby, shout, and beckon to attract the attention of passersby.

As we descend from Constitution Square deeper into the city, we walk first along Herme Street, along which the largest fashion and other jewelry stores are located. Goldsmiths also live along it. But mostly along Herme Street, foreign products are sold, which are very expensive in Athens due to the high customs duties and cheap currency. Along Aiolon Street, which intersects the previous one, you can buy most of the same products that are manufactured in Athens itself. Along it are the many good shoemakers of Athens. Stadium Street, in turn, is lined with most of Athens’ banks.

One has only to step aside from these main streets, and we are soon on the back roads, where the most popular life prevails. The shops suddenly become small and modest, and the public follows suit. There are a few junipers along which only butchered animals are sold. Butchers hang the bloody bodies of cows, sheep, and goats killed early in the morning in front of their shops and cut up a piece for the buyers as each need. The blood flows from the animal’s snout to the ground and forms a small stream that flows into the street, among other blood. The whole street glows red. Here, the mistresses and masters come with their booths to feel and choose, but I try to get away from the disgusting spectacle in a hurry.

More interesting than the butchers’ shops are the fruit shops, which are in the thick of the cinders. Your mouth waters when you think of the treasures that are piled up there, and which, for a few pennies, you can buy more than you can eat. The oranges are so delicious that we in the North have no idea about them, and they are so fresh that you can almost drink their oozing juice when you open the peel. White onions, which are kept in braided bunches, are very much loved by the Greeks and are the main goods of the fruit merchant. Cherries, lemons, figs, apricots, who can name all the products that are abundant here…

Otherwise, life on the smaller streets of Atheena is similar to that in southern countries in general. After the rain, a one-legged shoemaker sticks his beak out of his cramped workshop, a chair in one hand, a shoe in the other, surveys the air, and then moves to the sidewalk to knit. A fluffy-headed apprentice carries a table with all his various shoemaking tools and quick-drying tools behind him. All the other shoemakers do the same because it is more fun to knit and stitch when you can chat with neighbors and passing acquaintances at the same time. Those craftsmen who cannot move their workshops to the street open all the doors and windows to get fresh air. Here, a blacksmith swings his hammer, striking red-hot iron so that sparks fly into the street; here, a carriage master twists a wheel rim on a presser foot or adjusts glued wood with pliers. The blacksmiths rattle their clanking tins, and the voices of the peasants mingle with this life as they shout their wares to the townspeople, some milk, some wine, some other thing, stopping here and there and looking into the windows to see if some landlady or pretty servant girl is not signaling that she wants his goods. Every merchant who slowly moves forward with their donkey is a real Stentor. “Good milk!… Good oranges!… White loaves!” etc., he shouts in a booming, powerful voice and stretching out the syllables. There are cafes in the town, but how the owners of all these cafes live is a mystery to me. At least they are making a profit. An Athenian drinks a cup of coffee and pays about ten lepta for it, and for the rest of the day, he is content with water. He does not offer any tips to the miserable-looking wine drinkers who fling small cups of coffee onto the tables. The owners of the coffee shops likely run the business for enjoyment, as their income is probably not substantial. It is certainly fun to listen to politics from morning till night, which, they assure us, the Greeks can discuss until the day of judgment.