Coffee in Kolonaki

          As is our preference, we opted-out of Christmas (easy to do if you don’t have children). Having posted greeting cards to distant friends and relatives, we left town. So, we’re in Athens, where we don’t know anyone and are under no social obligation to celebrate the birth of a religious figurehead or to join the orgy of consumption for the sake of tradition. Mind you, even here people wear Santa caps and plastic antlers – waiters, shop-assistants, children etc. – and, for the sake of politeness, we did learn to say kala Christougenna (to which the invariable reply was “merry Christmas”). Nor are we the only escapees: there are plenty of other foreigners here, though it would be a mistake to assume they are all Christmas-averse: the few that I did speak to had the temerity to wish me “merry Christmas” on parting company.

          Still, being an outsider makes it easier not to participate in the big event. It also affords opportunities to observe differences. The institutions, businesses and big shops are closed for a couple of days, but it seems not to impact daily life. This is a low-rise city where, even at its core, whole families dwell in the five-storey apartment blocks that line almost every street. This, I surmise, explains the myriad cafes, bakeries and corner shops that seem never to close. It also explains why some cafes are equipped with card tables and frequented by old men. Where else would they go to escape when they have neither gardens nor allotments? Our apartment overlooks an active church in a modest square fringed with cafes, each of which claims a patch of outside space – essential not only for cooling-off in summer but also for smoking at any time. The rest of the space is used by children kicking footballs, teenagers hanging out and neighbours stopping to chat. Life here – as everywhere – is influenced by the built environment and by the climate.

          This is a relatively ‘nice’ neighbourhood – stable, family-friendly and law-abiding – but, like any densely populated city, there are people of different means living cheek-by-jowl. A twenty-minute walk from here, where two coffees cost €3.50, exposes a typical cross-section of urban life. Three blocks away, at Platea Omoneia, the traffic gets serious, the shops and cafes bigger and the hustle palpable. A couple more blocks and you are confronted with the fallout from Greece’s recent economic woes: ornate 19^th century villas are abandoned and crumbling – only recently have hipsters moved in to save some of them by establishing trendy bars and modern restaurants. One particular square forms an oasis of cool, stylish entertaining, but ignore Lonely Planet’s advice and turn up the wrong way and the streets belong to drug addicts who do not trouble to avoid scrutiny. I saw one young woman, sitting on the kerb with her chin uplifted, while a man injected something into her neck and three policemen drove by on motorcycles. Yet, a few more blocks away, set on a wide boulevard, are the magnificent neo-classical buildings of the National Library and Athens University, beyond which is the posh residential district of Kolonaki, where corner shops are replaced with boutiques. Here, two coffees cost €7.

          I am no expert but, in the end, the Greek economy may recover its balance. It does not rely on manufacturing or high-tech exports, both of which can be vulnerable to competition. Instead, like professional football clubs, it has a loyal customer base that keeps coming back for more – tourists. And I have read that the Athens authorities welcome the latest influx of immigrants. Disruptive they may be, but by dint of their commercial activities and entrepreneurial drive, they are bringing life back to derelict districts.

          So, the spirit of Christmas does pervade Athens and we didn’t get off scot-free – I did hear Noddy Holder at the supermarket – but the filter of foreign-ness has diluted the seasonal frenzy to an acceptable level. There’s just New Year’s Eve to dodge now.