Welcome to Athens.

Oranges.

Thousands and thousands of oranges dangle above cracked, broken concrete. The ones you can reach - have already been picked.

Every block you walk contains a person, a leash, and a dog - but cats rule the city. They roam half-empty lots, hunt their way through olive trees, nap under parked cars.

Basketball courts dot the outer, poorer city; practice runs well into the night.

Dinner starts at 10pm. Most restaurants outside the city center sit empty in January.

The facades of buildings are generally old, worn. The interiors are always clean, and more often than not fresh, modern, and sharp.

It feels more like a coconut culture than a peach one. Expressions neutral, verging on grumpy until even the smallest connection is made. People light up.

Clothes wave above the streets in the cold night air. Rain punctuates and then retreats.

The city is worn, but not worn out. Aging, but not tired.

Grafitti is everywhere - no building is un-tagged; many are covered with murals that you'd expect to see in a museum.

The cars are new, and well-cared for. The tram is modern. Sidewalks are universally shattered, ripped apart by tree roots, metal access grates, the mix of time and water and sun on improperly cured concrete.

Grass dots a precious few parks; but this is a concrete jungle.

The sun cuts hard angles in the winter light. Plants waiting for summer lean in.

Welcome, my friend, to Athens.

I'm so curious what this place, language, and people are like. So let's find out. :) (and Happy New Year!)

With lots of love,

-Steven

p.s. The best thing I saw this week was this heartwarming and inspiring story about a cafe in Japan with robot servers - who aren't what they seem.