Athens, the city I adore—and occasionally side‑eye.

Cafes and restaurants: Taf Coffee

In Athens, coffee isn’t just a drink, it’s a way of life, a national sport, and possibly a local religion – it’s literally on every corner. If you’re anything like me, the chance to sit down with a cup and shamelessly people‑watch is one of the main joys of traveling. And since coffee shops in Athens are basically as common as traffic lights, I managed to stay both happily caffeinated and thoroughly entertained.

Taf is one of the city’s main coffee roasters and the pride of many a barista. Their coffee map spans a wide range of regions and beans with all sorts of processing methods – it’s like a world tour, but for your taste buds. You’ll find Taf beans in some of the most cutting‑edge bars in Athens, like Millybird House, which, conveniently, is only a five‑minute walk from the Goulandris Museum. Culture for the mind, specialty coffee for the soul.

Sights of Athens – this is where civilization decided to make its grand debut. Here you’ll discover what everyday life was like in the distant past and realize just how much ancient Greek culture still shapes our world. You’ll listen to captivating myths, admire jaw‑dropping architectural monuments, and probably catch yourself wondering how a city can be this old and yet this charming – and why it’s so easy to fall a little bit in love with it.

One minute you’re walking past a crumbling neoclassical balcony with laundry flapping like national flags of Chaos, the next you stumble into a rooftop bar where half the crowd looks like they’re on break from an art residency and the other half from a philosophy podcast. Graffiti here isn’t decoration; it’s an extreme sport, clinging to every available surface, including spots where you’re honestly not sure how a human even got up there. And just when you think you’ve had enough, the light hits the city in that smug golden way at sunset, someone’s uncle starts singing at a taverna, and you remember exactly why you’ll always forgive Athens for everything.

Nobody saw this coming. Anyone used to “civilized” Europe is in no way ready for the fact that Athens is way more than sirtaki and souvlaki, postcard grandpas with coffee and rosary beads, and an Acropolis forever posing in the sun. Modern Athens is like a gifted but moody teenager: bursting with energy, constantly up to something, and yet somehow always “forgetting” to clean their room. In the last few years, a flood of cool new spots has opened in Athens, and the “cultural program” is now so packed you might need a vacation from your vacation. The city wakes up late, downs a freddo espresso like it’s an Olympic sport, then spends the rest of the day honking, laughing, and double‑parking in places physics never intended. Streets change direction without warning, Google Maps just shrugs, and somehow everyone still arrives exactly on time—which in Athens means anywhere within a 45‑minute window.

Once I figured that out, though, their tiny size and feather-light weight totally won me over. I even did a quick sketch of my favorite travel palettes, complete with arrows pointing to all the little parts and what they’re for, like a nerdy art-science diagram.

Before my trip, I bought two new palettes, because obviously what an artist really needs before traveling is more fragile, colorful rectangles. I’ll admit it: I actually needed instructions on how to open them at first :)

Naturally, I decided to paint these “extras” into my sketches too, to show the size of my travel art supplies compared to my smartphone—plus a little piece of chocolate and a travel bottle of hand sanitizer, both sweet souvenirs brought from Rome by our daughter.

The whole setup made my sketchbook page look like a field guide to a very specific species of traveling artist, whose natural habitat is airport gates and café corners. I kept imagining a museum placard under the drawing: “Artistus itinerans, observed in the wild, carrying three times more paint than socks.” The Roman hand sanitizer felt very sophisticated—like, yes, my germs are now blessed by history and archaeology. Meanwhile, the chocolate didn’t last long enough to be a reliable size reference, so I had to redraw it from memory, which is maybe the most honest kind of food illustration there is. By the time I finished, I’d basically created a love letter to all the ridiculous little things I insist on bringing along ‘just in case inspiration strikes’…which, let’s be honest, it usually does right when there’s no sink, no table, and definitely no extra chocolate.


What about you—have you ever been to Athens, and what stayed with you most from your time there?

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All paintings belong to the author. No image is to be copied without permission.