On my final day in Athens, I decided to run to a quaint neighborhood – Anafiotika, just about three miles from our hotel, Crowne Plaza City Centre.

To reach Anafiotika, I passed by a building bustling with menacing guards and surveillance vehicles. I guessed this had to be an important building. And it was. As I was wondering about this building, right around the corner, I saw towering men in white kilts, flowing tunics adorned with intricate embroidery, and shoes adorned with pom-poms, carrying ceremonial rifles with intricate bayonets. With precise steps and theatrical flair, they performed an intricate choreography around the grand building complex. This building, I later discovered, was the Hellenic Parliament, and what I witnessed was the ceremonial Changing of the Guards by the Evzones, officers of the presidential guard, each adorned with the iconic Phrygian caps and pleated skirts symbolizing Greece’s rich history and military tradition.

After witnessing this captivating tradition, I continued my run through Syntagma Square, a monumental plaza whose construction was commissioned by King Otto in the mid-19th century when he declared Athens the new capital of Greece. The square pulsated with life here, you could find a choice selection of elegant rooftop bars offering panoramic city views, a bustling shopping district showcasing luxury boutiques, and a plethora of restaurants to satisfy every craving. Finding a place to dine here seemed effortless. Just across from the square stood the legendary Hotel Grande Bretagne where a night stay could set you back US$2000. The hotel flaunts spectacular vistas of the Hellenic Parliament, the square’s vibrant atmosphere, and the city’s hustle and bustle. And if you know where to look, hidden in one of the hotel’s nooks, is a secret garden, “Il Giardino Segreto,” nestled in the atrium of Alexander’s Lounge. Picture olive and cypress trees, fragrant laurel plants, and colorful flowers in a secluded spot where the smell of wood-fired pizza, pies, and focaccia beckons you like a siren’s call.

As I jogged past the chic storefronts, I arrived at Monastiraki Square — the city’s heartbeat. The name “Monastiraki” means “little monastery,” a nod to the nunnery of Pantanassa built in the 10th century during the Byzantine Empire. Remarkably, this ancient nunnery still stands today as the Church of Pantanassa, casting a watchful eye over the square. Athens has this incredible knack for blending the ancient and modern.

Continuing my run, I meandered through Athens’ renowned flea market on Ifestou Street, once known as Yusurum. Named after a pioneering Jewish entrepreneur who first opened an antique shop there, the market has evolved into a cultural treasure trove, drawing crowds eager to explore Monastiraki’s labyrinthine alleys and vibrant atmosphere.

There’s something magical about morning runs; it’s just me and the city, free to soak in every detail at my own pace. The narrow, car-free alleys add to the serene ambiance. My route took me to Mnisikleous Street, a charming thoroughfare in the Plaka area known for its ancient stairs, “skalakia,” believed to be over three thousand years old. The street is lined with restaurants, cafes, and bars on both sides of these historic steps. It was uniquely European — dining with a view of Athens from the stairs, where you could sit on cushions or wicker chairs, savoring your meal while soaking in the city’s splendor.

This is a common theme for me when traveling: learning to slow down to indulge in simple pleasures. Not every run should be a training run I remind myself. Mnisikleous Street embodied this perfectly, urging me to relax. This morning, I decided to abandon my run (turning off the Garmin run - scary act for obsessive runners like me) and instead savored an espresso with a breathtaking view of Athens from the historic stairs. Choosing a café proved difficult with so many enticing options, but I settled on Anafiotika Café. It was an ideal spot for people-watching. And lucky for me this was not a busy morning. Only a handful of people enjoying their coffee and conversation. I was informed that these stairs transform into a lively scene in the afternoons and evenings. So, I relished the tranquility, exactly as I prefer it.

After enjoying my espresso, I continued my ascent up the beautifully painted white stairs, leading to the picturesque neighborhood of Anafiotika. I knew I had arrived in Anafiotika when I saw an “influencer” with their boyfriend photographer posing against the backdrop of the charming Cycladic-style architecture. She was meticulously adjusting her thoughtfully picked flowy dress, struck a pose that seemed both candid and calculated, while he, in trendy sunglasses and a casual yet stylish outfit, captured every angle on the latest iPhone likely for TikTok maybe Instagram.

Anafiotika, a tiny village on the northern slope of the Acropolis, is so quaint that it’s often overshadowed by the bustling tourist hub of Plaka. Resembling the charming alleys of Santorini, it features white-washed houses adorned with colorful doors and windows, flower-covered courtyards, and bougainvillea framing every corner. It feels as if a piece of the Cycladic Islands has been transplanted to Athens — and indeed, it was. Constructed in the 1840s by builders from Anafi, one of Greece’s Cycladic Islands, who were brought in to work on King Otto’s palace, Anafiotika mirrors the architecture of their native island. Hence, the area was aptly named Anafiotika.

Walking through these narrow alleyways, running is impractical here; you feel transported from the bustling city to a tranquil oasis. Anafiotika, with its 45 houses, offers a serene escape, seamlessly blending into Athens while preserving its unique island charm.

The narrow alleyways of Anafiotika made me feel oddly like an intruder, each step past someone’s door or window heightening my sense of trespass. Even the act of snapping a few photos seemed to amplify this feeling of intrusion. It made me ponder how I might feel if tourists were photographing the simple mud huts in my own village of Gokwe, and plastering them all over social media for likes and loves. What if it started with just a trickle of tourists and snowballed into millions each year? How would the locals manage their daily lives if hordes of visitors filled these narrow paths? Would residents find their own homes blocked by the constant flow of gawkers? Would they be forced to keep their windows shut, shutting out the world to maintain their privacy?

These reflections stirred deeper thoughts about the broader impacts of tourism. While it undoubtedly brings economic benefits, does it justify the disruption to the lives and privacy of those who call these places home? It’s a complex balance between cultural preservation and economic development—one that felt especially poignant as I wandered through the delicate, charming streets of Anafiotika. Maybe I need another espresso?

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