30-Day Solo Travel in Europe | Day 27: Finding Peace in Athens: Breakfast, Rain, and the Parthenon

(Previous chapter of my journey: Day 26: Farewell to Italy, Hello to Athens)

I was still drifting between sleep and wakefulness that morning when my friend’s message arrived. She had reached Athens and was on her way to our Airbnb apartment. A quiet wave of relief washed over me. I turned over and slipped back into a deep sleep, only stirring when I heard the soft sound of the door opening. That was when I slowly opened my eyes and welcomed the day.

Once she had freshened up, we stepped out together in search of a cosy café nearby. She suggested sitting indoors, but I asked the waiter to seat us outside instead. Only after we were settled did I gently explain why. In Hong Kong we usually hide away in air-conditioned spaces because the heat, sun and humidity can feel overwhelming. Here in Europe, though, people treat the outdoors as the greatest pleasure — letting sunlight warm their skin and breathing in the fresh air brings a sense of quiet joy. So we decided to follow the local rhythm, sitting peacefully under the sun while a soft breeze played through our hair and we eased ourselves into the city’s pace.

When it came to ordering, I told her there was no need to wave or call the waiter over. That can feel a bit abrupt here. The waiters know who has just arrived; they’ll come over naturally with the menus and give you time to decide. Once you’re ready, a simple meeting of eyes is enough. They come to you when they are ready to take your order.

We ordered one savoury dish, one sweet, and two cups of coffee. Greek coffee surprised me in the loveliest way. Even from an ordinary little place, it carried a deep, warm aroma that felt like a quiet embrace. For the savoury we chose the Angus burger, expecting something like a familiar fast-food patty. Instead, what arrived was a carefully made beef sandwich with golden fries on the side, generous enough for both of us to share.

Then came the sweet: pancakes with cheesecake sauce and oreo. The portion was so enormous that we looked at each other and burst out laughing. I quickly reassured my friend that this was the first time I’d seen breakfast of this scale in Europe. When we settled the bill, I asked the waitress out of curiosity. She smiled and replied, ‘In Greece, it’s more or less the same. But of course, our breakfast is quite… fulfilling.’

That word ‘fulfilling’ felt like a soft ray of warmth. It captured the moment perfectly. Our stomachs were gently satisfied, and our hearts felt brighter and softer because of it.

Athens’ weather was a kind companion on this trip: bright sunshine and dry, clear air that made every breath feel lightly freeing. We had planned to head straight to the Parthenon at midday, but the sun was fierce, so we decided to escape the heat first at the Acropolis Museum. Inside, artefacts more than two thousand years old quietly told stories of ancient Greek civilisation at its most glorious. The basement level preserves the entire archaeological site beneath the museum — a breathtaking sight that made us catch our breath. We didn’t join a guided tour, choosing instead to wander at our own pace. It meant fewer explanations, but more pure, peaceful presence.

Towards the end of our visit the sky suddenly darkened and a light rain began to fall. We took shelter in a nearby little bar, found a quiet corner, and ordered a drink. Even the cocktails were larger than we expected — another small, generous surprise. Our travel rhythm on this trip has been slow, almost like afternoon sunlight. To someone who loves ticking off sights quickly, it might seem like a waste of time. But I’ve come to believe that the real beauty of travelling lies in finding someone who can slow down with you. Thankfully, the two of us understood each other perfectly. There was no need to fill every minute with must-see spots. Sitting in that peaceful afternoon, sipping an oversized mojito while watching gentle rain fall, felt like one of the loveliest kinds of healing.

When the rain stopped, we finally made our way along the path leading up to the Parthenon. From the foot of the hill it looked distant and majestic, yet the climb turned out to be surprisingly gentle. Before we knew it, we had reached the top. Standing there, the grandeur and delicate beauty of the ancient structure touched something deep inside me. I always feel a quiet awe in moments like this, marvelling at the wisdom and determination of people long ago who poured so much effort into building such a magnificent temple on a hilltop. Somehow it survived wars and centuries, still standing quietly to watch over the land.

Sometimes I wonder what people thousands of years from now will think when they see the relics of our time in a museum — a mobile phone, a laptop — and read the description: 'Humans of the 21st century were rarely without their phones. Seeking connection and presence through social media had become an inseparable part of life.'

Athens may not offer many flashy new attractions as a tourist city, but it has always held a small, tender dream in my heart. It began back in the summer of 2004 during the Athens Olympics. My sister and I would stay up late with our dad every night, glued to the television. Of all the Olympic Games I’ve watched, Athens and Beijing left such vivid memories. One year, the Miss Hong Kong contestants came here for filming, posing at the historic sites. The ancient ruins, Greek mythology, and the spirit of the Olympics all wove together like a quiet seed planted in my young heart.

Now I was finally standing here. The childhood scenes still felt fresh, as if they had happened yesterday, and the Parthenon remained exactly where it had always been, calm and unchanged by time. In the soft glow of the Athenian sun, my little dream quietly came true.