Art and Anarchy in Athens
I’ve landed in Athens and I can’t wait to explore the city for the first time. It’s hip and buzzing with people. The aroma of seared meat is making me hungry. Lively Greek music spills out of the local tavernas and there are ancient ruins. Everywhere.
But today, I’m journeying into a darker side of Athens. A lesser known, edgier neighborhood that few tourists dare to venture into. I’m sitting at an outdoor café, sipping a glass of Ouzo, hoping it gives me a little liquid courage before my adventure begins.
I’m met by Irini, my guide for the afternoon and we set out on foot to Exarcheia, an anarchist’s enclave in Athens. She’s young and bubbly and I’m instantly excited by her energy. And she’s whip smart. She earned a law degree, practicing as a defense attorney for a few years before finding her true calling in civil rights. She’s also incredibly passionate about showing people her beloved Athens.
We stroll past the posh neighborhood of Kolonaki, which is home to some of the city’s most expensive real estate. But then, things quickly change. I instantly notice politically charged murals and hate-filled graffiti and ramshackle, dilapidated buildings. But Irini tells me not to be afraid. She says the area is safe and is teeming with intellectuals — writers, artists, students. She also tells me the area is also home to a growing number of refugees. 
We walk to a shrine in the neighborhood and she tells me the story of 15-year-old Alexandros Grigoropoulos, who was shot and killed by police in 2008. The killing triggered violent riots, fires and looting. Masked assailants hurled Molotov cocktails. Students staged solidarity protests. The turbulent events continued for weeks, sparking international conflicts around the world.
We continue on past anarchist bookstores and funky bars. She shares with me that Exarcheia has long been a hotbed for resistance and conflict. She tells me that it was here that the great demonstrations of 1973 took place which sent military tanks crashing through the gates of Athens Polytechnic, killing 24 civilians.
As we’re finishing our afternoon together, Irini shares with me that despite the fact that police rarely patrol the area, there is little violent crime. Residents have embraced refugees and live side by side peacefully and in solidarity. We walked past public gardens , inspiring street art and cafes full of students and writers. Though it’s a little rough around the edges, Exarcheia is full of hope and humanity.
