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The Independent
4 days ago
- General
- The Independent
Why you should follow the locals and discover the laid-back charm of the Athens Riviera this summer
After more than 15 years writing about Greece, I've learned that some of the best experiences happen when you veer away from the obvious choices. While most travellers landing in Athens rush toward the islands, I turn my attention to the Athens Riviera – a shimmering stretch of coastline just south of the city. Here, sandy beaches, lazy taverna lunches and sunsets to rival Santorini unfold with the ease of staying on the mainland. For decades, Athenians have sought seaside respite here. Now the Riviera is enjoying a renaissance, drawing international visitors who've discovered they can enjoy a stylish, culture-rich escape – no ferry required. Vouliagmeni quickly emerges as the Riviera's crown jewel. Its palm-lined boulevards and waterfront cafés emit a casual elegance reminiscent of France 's Côte d'Azur, only with a distinctly Greek flair. Hours disappear, relaxing over coffee and seaside strolls, highlighting a life lived outdoors. My personal favourite lies at the foot of limestone cliffs: Lake Vouliagmeni offers one of the Riviera's most surprising swimming spots. Warmed to 25C by underground springs, the mineral-rich mix of salt and freshwater creates a natural spa with tiny garra rufa 'medicine' fish nibbling at your toes, leaving you lighter, drawing away any tension. Luxury is also threaded through the Riviera's fabric. At Astir Beach, a favourite among stylish Athenians, sprawl on immaculate loungers with drinks and snacks delivered directly to your cabana. Behind the beach lies something magical – the 6th-century Temple of Apollo Zoster, accidentally unearthed by orphaned children in 1924. It's a reminder that even beach days here brush up against Greece's ancient soul. Further along the coast, the landscape grows more elemental. Cape Sounio reveals itself dramatically with the great marble columns of the Temple of Poseidon catching the last light of the day, perched high on the cliff. It's no wonder this is a romantic pilgrimage for many. You can easily imagine sailors of old offering prayers for safe passage at this wind-swept headland. What makes the Athens Riviera so memorable is how seamlessly mythological grandeur blends with everyday Greek life; sipping freddo espresso at Flisvos Marina, watching fishing boats bob beside superyachts, or a spontaneous dip at Kavouri Beach, where hardy locals swim year-round. Culture is close, too. Just inland lies the Stavros Niarchos Foundation Cultural Center, a modern marvel of glass and greenery that houses both the National Library of Greece and the Greek National Opera. Its park, with fountains and sculpture-dotted paths, offers a refreshing contrast to the coast. Where to eat Dining here is a highlight. In Vouliagmeni and nearby Glyfada, seafood tavernas deliver platters of freshly-caught fish. For something more polished, Barbarossa Paros is part of the sleek new 91 Athens Riviera complex with an extensive menu that offers locally sourced ingredients. Enjoy sushi on select evenings and sip crisp Malagousia wine alongside the beach. For Michelin-starred dining, Varoulko Seaside in Piraeus is unmissable. Chef Lefteris Lazarou reimagines seafood with flair. Highly recommended is the shrimp pastitsio. For old-school taverna charm, dine with the locals at Dourbeis, also in Piraeus. Open since 1932, the fish soup, whole sea bream and seafood linguine are classics for good reason. Where to stay Accommodation here pairs elegance with warmth. The Margi in Vouliagmeni (doubles from €540/£460) is an intimate boutique hotel surrounded by pine forest and a 20-minute walk to Lake Vouliagmeni. With only 89 rooms, it combines refined elegance with a warm Greek welcome and farm-to-table ethos thanks to its own organic farm. Breakfasts of homemade yoghurt, fresh fruit, and local honey take centre stage. For next-level luxury, 91 Athens Riviera in Voula (cabana from €486/£410) is redefining the Riviera. A chic glamping-meets-beach-club concept from Domes Resorts, the 28 beautifully designed sleeping cabanas – many with private plunge pool – are ideal for couples or families seeking barefoot elegance and privacy. Wellness offerings include an indoor spa, outdoor hydro pools, and a private tennis club. Dining at its Barbarossa restaurant brings Cycladic flair to the mainland, complete with cocktails and beachside seating. If the Athens Riviera is about balancing city access with coastal calm, 91 captures this effortlessly. Heading back to the city reminds me that the soul of Greece isn't found by rushing away to the islands, but by staying close the Greek heartland. Along the glittering Athenian coastline, you'll find the best of the city, season after season. Though increasingly popular, the Riviera retains its charm. Each time I return, I feel as though I've discovered a new charm. How to get there British Airways (prices starting from £260 return) and Aegean Airlines (prices starting from €199/£169) fly direct from London Heathrow and Gatwick to Athens, while and easyJet offers regional UK flights, and Jet2 flies from Birmingham. From Athens airport, it's a 30-45 minute taxi to the Riviera (approx. €40-€50).
Spectator
21-05-2025
- General
- Spectator
The Roman approach to tax
The Sunday Times rich list would have excited the male citizens over the age of 18 who determined state policy in the Athenian assembly in the 5th century bc. The reason is that Athens levied taxes on citizens by their wealth, as judged by the property they owned. The most important tax was the leitourgia (source of our 'liturgy'). This was imposed upon the 300 wealthiest Athenians and was hypothecated on two specific projects: the funding of the annual comic and dramatic festivals (one of which involved, among much else, the training of 1,165 men and boys for months on end) and the funding and maintenance of fully equipped Athenian triremes, which controlled Athens's marine empire. At times of emergency, mainly war, a further tax was levied on the 6,000 wealthiest. For many Athenians it was a matter of pride to be asked to carry out a liturgy. Done well, it brought with it great prestige as well as political benefits. Indeed, we hear of Athenians who volunteered to be liturgists, even if they did not technically qualify. However, it was possible to avoid it if you could prove that someone was richer than you. If you succeeded, he did the liturgy; if not, you did. Such liturgies were one of the main features of an ingrained culture of euergesia ('good works') among the great and good, in a world in which the vast majority were extremely poor, and the Romans adopted it (they translated it beneficium). But there was a problem: Roman society ran on the principle of the quid pro quo. Should one not return a good deed? Did this make receiving a benefit a nuisance? No, said Seneca. He defined a beneficium as 'an action which both provides and generates pleasure in the doing, from a natural and spontaneous inclination'.
Epoch Times
06-05-2025
- Epoch Times
The Singing Historian: The Ancient Greek Herodotus
Some may know Herodotus of Halicarnassus as 'the world's first historian.' Fewer realize that the man credited with inventing history was a traveling bard and a gifted one. Although he didn't always stick to the facts, Herodotus (484 B.C.–425 B.C.) devoted his life to studying the past with care, reminding countless generations after him that history matters. Herodotus of Halicarnassus Halicarnassus, now called Bodrum, is in modern-day Turkey. When Herodotus was born, the Persian Empire controlled the Greek-speaking city. Herodotus's family was wealthy and influential, certainly more than the average Halicarnassian. He was related to the revered epic poet Panyassis, who in 454 B.C. led an uprising against Halicarnassus's despot. Though Herodotus lived almost 2,000 years before Bodrum Castle was built, the area was already inhabited by thousands, who called their thriving metropolis Halicarnassus. A Byzantine encyclopedia from the 10th century suggests that Herodotus returned home after several years of self-imposed exile, took over the uprising after Panyassis was executed, and overthrew the tyrant. It's the only account that portrays Herodotus as his city's liberator. It's more likely that he used the tyranny as a pretext to leave home and voyage across the Mediterranean. Herodotus was indeed well-traveled. He loved Egypt and visited it at least once on a diplomatic trip with Athenians who had helped Halicarnassus repel a Persian naval attack. He also visited Tyre, in modern-day Lebanon, one of the world's oldest continuously inhabited cities, and Babylon, home to the ancient King Hammurabi and source of one of the earliest written legal codes. As he traveled far and wide, Herodotus gathered thousands of stories. He heard s ome from locals, and some he witnessed. Although he eventually wrote down many of the stories he had heard, he first made them known through oral recitations. Like virtually every other civilization at this time, Greece was primarily an oral culture. , one of Athens' first democratic lawgivers, composed and performed poetry to advance his political platform. Even the first philosophers showcased their arguments about the nature of things in poems they often delivered publicly. Related Stories 4/18/2025 4/14/2025 The ancient Syrian writer tells of how Herodotus made frequent trips to Corinth, Sparta, Argos, and many other cities in the Greek peninsula to share his stories. His status in the cities that hosted him depended on his public performances. Herodotus needed to entertain. Speculation about the Nile's frequent floods probably wasn't as interesting as war, conquest, abduction, and other exciting themes. Much like a street performer today, Herodotus set up camp in public spaces and delivered extemporaneous speeches about his most exciting stories with enough charisma to gain a reputation around Greece. Solon was a renowned Athenian speaker in his day, as depicted in this 1907 illustration by Paul Woodroffe. Public Domain But Herodotus eventually grew tired of frequent travel. When he was 37, he settled in Athens. Around 440 B.C., the Athenian golden age was at its peak. Statesmen like Pericles were strengthening Athens' world-shaping democracy with radical reforms. Philosophers like Socrates were asking questions about virtue and the nature of reality that forever changed the West. All the while, Athens expanded its hegemony in the Mediterranean with a mighty fleet. Eager for fame, the traveling historian decided to make a grand appearance at the Olympic Games. According to Lucian, ' He waited for a packed audience to assemble, one containing the most eminent men from all Greece; he appeared in the temple chamber, presenting himself as a competitor for an Olympic honour, not as a spectator; then he recited his Histories and so bewitched his audience. ' His performance was so captivating that he became ' much better known than the Olympic victors themselves .' "Throwing the Discus," 1875, by Edouard-Joseph Dantan. Oil on canvas; 45 1/2 inches by 84 inches. Public Domain Was glory Herodotus's only reason for writing his ' '? If oral performances were enough to become famous, why write at all? Why Herodotus Wrote History The modern notion of history as a collection of information about the past was foreign to the 5th century B.C. People shared myths in temples, theaters, and markets. But ancient tales almost always featured divine characters or mythical figures like Hector and Achilles. Everyday people weren't part of history. Their mundane lives went largely unnoticed, unless they committed patricide, sacrilegious vandalism, or something equally outrageous. Herodotus was not a 'people's historian,' but he was more interested in life's mundane aspects than his predecessors and contemporaries. The 'Histories' opens with a statement of purpose: ' To prevent the traces of human events from being erased by time, and to preserve the fame of the important and remarkable achievements produced by both Greeks and non-Greeks; among the matters covered is, in particular, the cause of the hostilities between Greeks and non-Greeks.' Famous ancient battles between the Greeks and Persians are memorialized in art and literature. 'The Heroes of Marathon,' 1911, by Georges Antoine Rochegrosse. Public Domain Reciting his accounts wasn't enough to ensure their survival. Herodotus wrote them down to prevent time from erasing 'the traces of human events.' While he wrote 'Histories,' Greek city states were fighting in coalitions against the Persian Empire, which wanted to colonize them. His main aim was to know the reasons behind these conflicts. Why did the Greeks and the Persians go to war? Who started the conflict, and how? Understanding the conditions that led to war might prevent them from arising again in the future. Although he was particularly attracted to exceptional generals and statesmen and once-in-a-lifetime accomplishments, he was also interested in writing about the working class, non-Greeks, women, and other underrepresented groups, moving back and forth between accounts of the past and descriptions of current customs and beliefs. The rationale was the same: to preserve as many interesting details about Greeks and non-Greeks as possible, so others could look to the past as a source of insight, caution, and inspiration. But how much could his accounts be trusted? Myths, Lies, and Propaganda? The Roman orator and statesman was the first to Herodotus as 'the father of history.' Cicero thought history was judged on ' the truth, while in poetry it is generally the pleasure one gives' that determines its value. Although he admired the historian's inventive style, Cicero acknowledged that his reports were full of 'fabulous tales.' Herodotus cared about the truth, but he also wanted to entertain his audiences. To do so, he happily sprinkled his reports with sensational details. Orpheus rescues his love Eurydice from Hades, but loses her a second time. 'Orpheus and Eurydice' by Gaetano Gandolfi. Public Domain His tales resemble other stories from Greek mythology, like Hercules's 12 feats and Orpheus's attempted rescue of . Herodotus speaks of the Argippaeans, a mysterious pacifist people ' who are said to be all bald from their birth (male and female alike),' and of a tribe of 'one-eyed men' who often battle 'griffins that guard gold.' He describes the legendary phoenix, known for its ability to come back to life from its own ashes, as a real creature, and mentions equally anomalous creatures without skepticism. These bizarre anecdotes would be most exciting for a live audience, but they're very likely untrue. Writing arou nd the time of Herodotus's death, the Greek comedian Aristophanes made fun of this peculiar blend of history and myth. His comed y ' ' tells of an Athenian citizen who tries to end war by declaring a private peace in his house. He blames the war on the abduction of three prostitutes. The tone is sarcastic, and the audience would've easily caught the reference to Herodotus. In the first of his nine books, Herodotus blamed a series of large-scale conflicts on the abduction of important women. This trope was popular in ancient Greece, but it was also absurd enough as an explanation of war for a shrewd playwright like Aristophanes to make Herodotus the butt of his joke. In addition to glamorous tales, Herodotus was also accused of showing partiality towards Athens. He portrayed the Athenians as the morally righteous champions of freedom and democracy and the Persians as the evil perpetrators of slavery and injustice, leaving little room for nuance. Title page of a 1533 translated copy of Herodotus's "Histories," at Yale University, New Haven, Conn. Public Domain It's an understandable bias, since Herodotus was directly affected by the Persians' war-mongering. But it undermines his credibility, especially when read alongside his preposterous tales. The Beauty of Facts and Fantasy Although historians today generally view Herodotus as a reliable source, they share Cicero and Aristophanes's suspicions. If Herodotus taught at a modern university, he'd probably be a creative writing professor or an instructor in theater and performance. He certainly wouldn't be in a history department. His historical method was quickly superseded by Thucydides, a younger contemporary who wrote the ' .' Thucydides was much less interested in myths and ordinary individuals. He thought history should focus on powerful men and their notable accomplishments. Yet Thucydides owed a great deal to Herodotus, who was one of the first people to study the past systematically, for the sake of the present and posterity. Propaganda comes from good storytelling , but so do awe and wonder. Although Herodotus didn't always stick to the facts, he devoted his life to learning about people, places, and events with exemplary care. His original combination of storytelling and factual reports makes the 'Histories' an intriguing and enjoyable text. It has reminded countless generations about the importance of understanding the origins of things, and the beauty of doing so with facts and fantasy. What arts and culture topics would you like us to cover? Please email ideas or feedback to
The Guardian
02-05-2025
- Politics
- The Guardian
Snap result: Speckles the psychic crocodile predicts who will win Australian election
On the eve of Australia's national poll to determine its next leader, two hunks of meat were dangled above a murky pool. Attached to one line, the picture of prime minister, Anthony Albanese. Upon the other, the man who would dethrone him, the opposition leader, Peter Dutton. In the water lurked a 36-year-old saltwater crocodile called Speckles. Associate professor of Greek History at the University of Queensland, David Pritchard, says ancient Athenian democracy, the birthplace of democracy, was thick with ritual and magic. So it's only fitting Speckles was once again put to the test, this time with chunks of buffalo meat. 'That's a form of divination,' Pritchard says. 'That is a form of interpreting portents to work out what is going to happen in the future'. So whom did the gods of the tropical north ordain for electoral victory this Saturday? Sign up for the Afternoon Update: Election 2025 email newsletter Once again Speckles predicted the fall of a government – only this time, he was decisive. In 2022, the 4.8 metre saltie predicted, via plucked chook, that Albanese would defeat then prime minister Scott Morrison. 'He did it really really quickly,' Crocodylus Park's Jess Grills says. 'Straight up for Peter Dutton'. But while Speckles might have an unblemished record as an oracle, Pritchard cautioned against fatalistically accepting his verdict. The historian says that, while the ancient Athenians performed many similar rituals as part of their democracy and often looked to the gods for guidance – it was up to people to interpret signs from the divine. 'Keeping the gods happy was very important to the Athenians,' Pritchard says. 'But they took control of their own lives'. Sign up to Morning Mail Our Australian morning briefing breaks down the key stories of the day, telling you what's happening and why it matters after newsletter promotion Which is another tradition that Anne-Marie Condé, senior curator at the Museum Of Australian Democracy At Old parliament house, hopes lives on in the modern world. Condé says she believes Australians are proud of the nation's innovations in democracy, from the pioneering of the secret ballot to universal suffrage to compulsory voting. And this sense of ownership over the democratic process means that 'we can have a little fun with it if we want to'. But she hopes the spectacle of Speckles adds to, not distract from, the duties of the day. 'It's fun watching crocodiles decide who might be the next prime minister,' Condé says. 'But, you know what: your vote does count, it's not a random thing. 'So it's great if people can have a bit of think before they vote to how they want to use that vote – because the outcome will determine the future of us all'.
The Mainichi
27-04-2025
- Politics
- The Mainichi
Edging Toward Japan: Every parliament needs an element of theatre
One of the memorable highlights for me last year was that moment in the New Zealand parliament when a Maori MP suddenly transformed from giving a reasoned opinion on a contentious bill into a full-scale haka, furiously gesticulating and fulminating in the type of war dance we more usually associate with the commencement of major All Blacks rugby matches. The MP, Hana-Rawhiti Maipi-Clarke, dramatically tore up the bill and descended the stairs of the parliament as her haka continued and she was joined by other Maori MPs. I must confess that when I first saw this, it appeared almost comical in the setting, but as I reflected on it more, I really came to appreciate it. It was as if a rather staid parliamentary session was suddenly elevated to electrifying theatre. Was it not inappropriate to act this way in a parliament? I don't think it was, because a parliament is about expressing how you feel about something and quite often you can't express that in a monotone rational discourse -- or at least if you do, nobody will be listening. (I was reminded of the old British joke, "If you want to keep something a secret, give a speech about it in the House of Commons".) There are all kinds of theatrical techniques to grab the listeners' attention, to move them emotionally and suddenly connect with them in a visceral way. Too often we convince ourselves that "democracy" equates to extremely boring speeches being passed back and forward between besuited technocrats. But we would do well to remember that the original creators of democracy, the ancient Athenians, were also the original creators of Western theatre, and that drama and philosophical and political thought were all profoundly interconnected in the Greek mind. The art of rhetoric -- the ability to speak and perform in front of a crowd -- was one of the most prized of classical arts. The theatre and the parliament are after all children of the same parent. When I looked at the Maori MP, however, it wasn't Greece, but another theatrical tradition that immediately floated into my mind. I was struck by the similarities between Maipi-Clarke's performance and the Japanese Kabuki stage. There is a moment of heightened tension in Kabuki theatre when an actor suddenly strikes a mie pose, an exaggerated outer display of inner emotion or turmoil, and holds it for an unnaturally long period of time that has the effect of intensifying the drama, often prompting shouts and emotional outbursts from the audience. Only when I saw Maipi-Clarke perform did I realize that the haka and the Kabuki mie are at heart the same theatrical technique. I began to think how much more interesting the Japanese parliamentary sessions might be if occasionally one of their MPs suddenly adopted a mie pose to electrify the session. Over the years, I have occasionally tried to follow Japanese parliamentary proceedings, but have long since given up because of the brute tedium of watching soul-less politicians' formalistic tos and fros. This dull derivative of a European original does not to me represent "democracy", but misconstrues what "democracy" is to begin with. Just as modern theatre needs to engage at some level with modern politics, modern parliaments need to engage with a sense of theatre if they wish to engage a wider interest in the democratic process. My mind ran to a fantasy of parliaments around the world that could engage more fully with their native theatrical traditions. In the Italian parliament, a speech maker after boring his audience with an hour-long torrent of words might suddenly break into an operatic aria to more fully communicate what he has to say, and is rejoined by a soprano in fierce opposition from the other side of the chamber. Many parliaments around the world are based on the model of the British parliament, the House of Commons, but seem to have extracted from it the most tedious aspects of its debating procedures. Yet the House of Commons is still in some distant communication with British theatrical traditions, most notably those of the Music Hall. The highlight of the parliamentary week is Prime Minister Questions, when the Prime Minister and the Leader of the Opposition trade carefully scripted jokes about each other and their parties. In Britain, the new Tory Party leader Kemi Badenoch recently attempted to establish her credentials, and gain public interest, by making various biscuit-related puns in connection with the parent company of a famous biscuit manufacturer showing reluctance to invest in the U.K. This also allowed the opportunity to refer to the deputy prime minister as a "ginger nut". "While the PM has been hobnobbing in Brazil, businesses have been struggling to digest his budget," referring to not one but two popular types of British biscuit in a single sentence -- Hobnobs and digestives. She punningly continued: "Isn't it the case the Employment Rights Bill shows that it is not only the ginger nut that is causing him problems?" In this world, real and imagined, of a politician trying to emulate the actions of a theatre performer, I began to think what the American politicians would do to enliven their sessions. What native theatrical tradition would they feed into? Not the haka, not the Kabuki, not the opera, not the Music Hall. What could it be? And then, right on cue, at stage right, Donald Trump provided the answer by doing the memorable little dance routine that became one of the defining images of his whole extraordinary re-election campaign. Of course. The Americans would dance to rock and roll. When U.S. Congressional sessions get so dull that we can barely keep our eyes open, one of the Congressmen or -women will finally recall the theatrical origins of it all, stand up in the aisle and dance in happiness or sorrow, in jubilation or despair, to more fully express whatever it is that is on their mind. And so Socrates will doff his cap to the art of Dionysus and the ancient rituals of Democracy will be renewed once more. @DamianFlanagan (This is Part 56 of a series) In this column, Damian Flanagan, a researcher in Japanese literature, ponders about Japanese culture as he travels back and forth between Japan and Britain. Profile: Damian Flanagan is an author and critic born in Britain in 1969. He studied in Tokyo and Kyoto between 1989 and 1990 while a student at Cambridge University. He was engaged in research activities at Kobe University from 1993 through 1999. After taking the master's and doctoral courses in Japanese literature, he earned a Ph.D. in 2000. He is now based in both Nishinomiya, Hyogo Prefecture, and Manchester. He is the author of "Natsume Soseki: Superstar of World Literature" (Sekai Bungaku no superstar Natsume Soseki).
