Today, as the riots in Athens continue into their 6th day, I publish my experience. My 2 1/2 days in Athens - the first 3 days of rioting.
First, let me mention that I'm fine, and only once did I feel I was in any danger.
The vacation started well enough. I flew in, took public transport from the airport to the hotel, checked in, took a nap, had dinner and walked around a bit. I loved that I had just eaten the most delicious lamb I've ever tasted (stewed in white sauce). Soon after I was nibbling at some gelato while I watched the sunset reflect off the acropolis and giant soap bubbles being released by a street performer. All the stores closed around 6 so I wandered back to the hotel and went to bed early because I hadn't slept at all the night before.
On Sunday it was supposed to be the free day at all the outdoor archaeological sites (first Sunday of every month). After getting up an hour before dawn and going to the big Sunday FLEA MARKET!!!! I stopped at a Starbucks I had found the night before and headed to the Acropolis. A subway ride and short walk later, I discovered the Acropolis was closed due to a strike. NO MATTER!
There was so much to do and explore. I climbed a big hill next to the Acropolis, I window shopped, I ate Moussaka and Greek Salad. I went to the Temple of Zeus, a Christmas Bazaar being held by a local church (where I lost my sunglasses, but bough a copy of "Midnight In the Garden of Good and Evil" for 1 euro!) and sauntered through a park. I took a nap and went back out at 4:00 to the shopping area I'd been to the day before to buy some clothes/boots/anything and it was only then I knew what had happened the night before.
The stores I'd gone to shop at were damaged, some were destroyed, some were so burnt that you couldn't even read the signs. Where only the night before there had been children chasing soap bubbles, there was now shattered glass and debris. A few tourist shops were open, so I asked what had happened and I was told it was the work of "anarchists" by one shop owner and that the police killed one of them and they had set fire to more than a dozen cars and caused about 15 million Euro in damage. (I'd later discover a teenage boy had been killed on Saturday and that was what had sparked the violence).
It didn't seem that terrible (I somehow didn't see the completely burned up buildings until the next day when I went back) and I went about my business. I had dinner in a touristy area (worst dinner, and the most expensive I had on the trip) and moved onto an EXCELLENT cafe where they were spinning fantastic lounge music and read my book. Overall it was a great relaxing end to a great day.
When I got back to the hotel I watched the news and for the first time found out what had happened. Only in pictures, because there weren't any English language news stations. It was scary, but again, it was isolated to a few blocks and seemed to be over. Nothing seemed to happen that night (and despite CNN's report that there was violence that night, the locals I talked to all say that nothing happened that second night).
I didn't sleep well and got a late start in the morning. Back to the Acropolis to find it STILL CLOSED. Fine. I did more shopping in Plaka (got some great boots!) climbed the Hill of Nymphs to the observatory (beautiful view of Athens), had a yummy lunch of kebab and baked feta, took a nap, and, for the third night, went back to that shopping area.
I needed a scarf and I got one at H&M before they closed. I was planning on seeing if any of the other stores would be re-opened and a few were, but, as if noticing it for the first time, I saw that there was much more devastation than I thought. Scores of people were out this time surveying the damage - mostly locals - and I walked towards the Parliament building because I hadn't been there yet and it looked beautiful in the setting sun with a huge Christmas tree in front and I wanted a picture. I noticed loads of people near there and I thought there was going to be a tree lighting, then I heard the chanting...
I don't know what the chanting was, but it was all men's voices and, while initially no one seemed concerned, I noticed a few people take in the scene and start walking the other direction. I had seen people handing out fliers earlier in the day and figured it was a peaceful protest about the violence the night before - but knew better than to stick around and find out. There were cops around who seemed pretty calm and like they weren't worried, but I have survival instincts and knew something wasn't right. I walked about a half-mile to the Starbucks and sat down with my book and a mocha. I figured the violence two nights before had been contained to a few blocks, so I was good where I was. I felt safe and warm, loads of people were crowded into the cafes on the plaza and an employee of the cafe next door was handing out free samples to people milling about.
I was sitting in the window watching this all when they started lowering the blast doors over the windows. Giant metal gates coming down was one thing, I thought maybe they were closing early for some reason. Then the security guard placed fire extinguishers at each door and loads of people started streaming in through the door and up to the second floor where the windows weren't covered with metal sheeting so they could watch the protest. The second I realized what was happening I dropped everything and got out. The protesters had walked past the Starbucks and up to the University. Loads of people filled the square to watch the protests. They had banners and chants...and over a hundred young men in black hoodies. That Starbucks, I would find out watching the news the next day, was burned to a shell that night.
I fled as quickly as possible to a square another 1/2 mile away - close to the hotel and plenty far from the University and Parliament. It was a tiny, off-the-beaten-path locals place I had found the first night. I didn't want to go straight to the hotel as it was close to the main drag where the protest was taking place and, frankly, I was hungry.
The restaurant owner tried to explain to me what was happening and told me I was fine there, away from the rabble. He said "tomorrow will be very bad, do not go out of the hotel after dark tomorrow, tomorrow they put the boy away" (meaning they were going to bury the boy whose death was the spark that lit the powderkeg in the first place. I sat and ate and drank in the window of the little restaurant. Lamb souvlaki and hummus...all delicious. I read my book and chatted with waiters and looked up suddenly to find people streaming by the windows. Mostly men.
This is when things began to get scary. The waiters worked on bringing things in from outside tables, I moved away from the window, and a smell started to cause us to cough and our eyes to water...we were downwind of where the cops were using tear gas to disperse the crowds. It wasn't too bad, and I went downstairs to use the restrooms and escape the odor and when I came back up it was pretty much gone. I was scared, but not too much, until I looked at the face of one of the waitresses. She was terrified. Her eyes were wide saucers of fear and her mouth was an "o" shape as if she wanted to say something but didn't know what to say. Shortly after that the restaurant sent us (the patrons and the waitresses) home - after the protesters had passed. They directed me to go about 3 blocks out of my way to get back to the hotel because there was fighting on the direct route.
I've never been so glad to be staying at a third-rate hotel on a ghetto street. Nobody looted or set fire to anything on the street (though the main cross street was closed off by a flaming dumpster) because there was nothing valuable. Clearly there had been clashes nearby, and there was much looting on the main street, but it had mostly passed that area by the time I got back there (it's a good thing I went to dinner!) Also, clearly only the people involved in the riots and the police were being hurt. Everyone else was being left alone and, even through the looting and riots, people did not attack EACH OTHER so much as PROPERTY.
I was freaked out and just short of panicking. It's amazing how I'll have panic attacks about little stuff, like petting a mangy dog, but I get my first whiff of tear gas while I'm having dinner and I calmly go to the bathroom and finish my glass of wine.
After talking to my mom, I joined a motley crew of hotel staff and a few local homeless people they'd taken in (regulars to the bar I think) to watch the TV. I watched a building I'd just taken a picture of a few hours before, burn. I watched the Christmas Tree in front of the parliament building go up in flames. I listened to people running and breaking windows outside. I was prepared for evacuation if needed and jumped when someone walked in the door and the chime rang.
I heard English for the first time in hours "Do you have a bar and does it have wine?"
It was my savior, an Irish born traveller whose name I have forgotten. Thanks to him, instead of panicking, I sat in the hotel bar discussing life on the international scene. Sometimes his friend, a professional photographer from Korea, would come in and show us his pictures of the fires and the looting. Sometimes we'd get up and check the news or look outside. Basically, we hung out in the hotel bar while Athens was consumed by the riots.
The next morning I was on the fence about whether to cut my trip short or not when I caught the news. First, the Starbucks I'd visited every day was now gone. Second, the news was playing memorials to the boy who was killed; his funeral was later that day. I remembered what the restaurant owner had told me the night before, that things would only get worse, so I called the airline.
The airline was only too happy to change my flight - as there was to be an airline workers strike the next day and no flights would be getting in or out!
I fled Greece just in time. I had a feeling that the riots would not wait for nightfall the day of the funeral and I was right. I was much better off leaving, though it was, despite the riots, a stellar vacation. The people were incredibly welcoming and kind, the food was amazing and the country was very beautiful. Even during the riots, it was mostly property damage - the "fights" were protesters attacking police and not passersby and the tourist areas were left largely untouched. Still, I'm glad I got home safely!
