Athens with Work – February 2024

I am in the fortunate position of having a job which means that I get to travel a few times a year. At risk of repeating the same pre-amble that I’ve given in numerous blogs over the past decade, this is because the entire company is ‘distributed’, meaning that we have no central office, and everybody works remotely from around the globe. Teams have an annual ‘meetup’ where they get together for a week, and choose a location that works for their particular circumstances.

Last year, my team headed to Seoul, in South Korea. This time around, they opted for Athens, in Greece – somewhere that just so happens to be one of my favourite cities in the world. Despite this rather fortuitous outcome, I didn’t actively push for it. In all honesty, I would have been just as happy heading somewhere new, but will also never say no to spending more time in a place that feels like a second home.

As has become something of a tradition, a few of us headed out early to settle in and explore the city at our own pace, and on our own Dollah. As lovely as it was to have the chance to see each other, I personally also wanted to spend some time doing my own thing before the meetup officially kicked off and I had to wrangle the various stressful practicalities that are inevitably involved in such a thing. Not everybody is going to want to traipse around old dusty record shops in the so-called anarchist area after all, or be dragged through the food market, or sit and drink raki surrounded by fish-heads and pro-vegan graffiti. So I had to make sure to deliberately seek out space for that – though getting that balance right on a trip like this can be incredibly tricky.

Athens is a city that has an incredibly strong cultural identity, and by that I don’t just mean that which is soaked into the ancient stuff that you can find in one of the many museums. Instead, I mean that it is a real, living, breathing, working city – one that yes, bears the mark of its history – but also one that brightly displays its contemporary heart and politics. In many ways, it seems like everything is constantly at risk of falling to pieces, held together only with the residue of many layers of spray paint; crumbling pavements and lopsided buildings propped up against some priceless bit of architecture. I can see why people might feel unsafe here, with dark, run-down streets and traffic that weaves in and out of the teeming crowds… but I love it. Alleys that appear abandoned during the day burst into life at night, and there is a constant energy and character about the place that is as inspiring as it is intoxicating.

Perhaps counter-intuitively, the seemingly chaotic nature of Athens also exists alongside (and indeed, hand-in hand with) a deeply ingrained, un-hurried pace of existence. This is a somewhat paradoxical combination that could well stem from the Greeks’ anti-authoritarian tendencies – something that speaks to me. Whatever the reason, I found myself immediately at peace on the morning of the first full day, sipping orange juice and watching the world go by. This is a place that gives you space. Space to breathe. Space to think. Space to just exist. When did I last feel that?

A few days later, I was again struck by just how much the mentality of the city can seep in and impact your approach to life, as a few of us wandered through the back-streets of an area called Koukaki. We came across some janky chairs perched on the side of the road which happened to catch the sunlight just so, and it became clear that this was a place for us to stop. We ended up sitting there for a good few hours, sipping wine and opening up to each other in a way that isn’t really natural for me as a Scotsman. It was a really meaningful, organic encounter. There is something about Athens that just lends itself to that kind of easy, thoughtful conversation. No wonder this was the cradle of democracy.

I was actually in Athens just under a year ago for another work conference, so it hasn’t been all that long since I last traversed its hallowed marble streets. Back then, I was amazed at all of the new, cool places that had sprung up since I lived here for a few months back in 2014 – and this trip meant that I had the opportunity to explore some of the bars, restaurants, and shops that I didn’t get around to last time. This included staying at one of the more trendy hotels in Psyrri called 14 Reasons Why. Since we were all coming in February, the accommodation worked out much cheaper than it might otherwise have been during peak tourist season, rendering everything much more affordable. Our rooms were decorated with neon signs and strange sculptures of rats and monkeys holding lightbulbs – and we were slap bang in the middle of one of the most lively areas you can be in. It’s almost as if… it was planned that way.

I didn’t actually take a huge amount of pictures on this trip, or at least, not the kind of street scenes that I often do. That particular itch was scratched last year. Rather, I shot a lot on film – determined to use up some of my precious stock of Neopan 1600 that I’ve been saving forever, waiting for a ‘special occasion’. Camera wise I packed a ludicrous amount of gear, as one might expect, with my trusty M Typ 240 and Lumix GX9 doing the digital deed. For film there was the Leica M6 for 35mm, a Rolleiflex 2.8F for medium format, and I even shot four cartridges of Super-8 film which I will compile into some kind of video montage. All of that will naturally take time to develop, scan, and process… which means that there are some notable holes in this digital documentation – but I am actually kind of happy with that. Not every entry here needs to read like some comprehensive travel log after all.

When it came to work, one of our crew sadly couldn’t make it out on the trip, and so naturally we had to have a proxy created to ensure their presence was represented. Kind of like Dolly the Sheep, but even creepier. This presented all sorts of opportunities for shenanigans – and the team made the most of that. Passers by were equally horrified and bemused, which is absolutely the correct reaction.

Unfortunately, the Acropolis security were not impressed, refusing entry to our comrade. She was confiscated and locked up in the guard tower (not pictured).

Hey, are those not the marbles that were stolen by the British…?

Over the course of the week, we ate and drank our way across the city. I already knew how good the food in Greece was, but even I was caught off-guard by the overall standard, and the value for money. I lost track of the delicious (and affordable) drinks that we had, with some amazing views.

Jetting off to the Mediterranean with work is obviously a privilege that few get to experience or enjoy, and I definitely don’t take that for granted. However, it would also be disingenuous of me to give the impression that everything was or is brilliant all of the time. This trip in particular proved to be especially difficult. As team lead and the only person familiar with the city, there was an innate expectation on me to scout out and book everything from hotels to restaurants to office space, as well as trips up the Acropolis. Not only that, I had to navigate and be sensitive to the individual feelings, needs, and desires of each person.

In practice, that meant that I felt constantly pulled in a bunch of different directions, and I second guessed pretty much every interaction I had with everyone. If somebody was critical or negative, it felt like a personal slight, even if that wasn’t their intention. On the flip side, if somebody was positive or eager about anything, then it seemed like it must not be authentic. All of this weighed incredibly heavily on me, and I can’t really explain how draining it was – especially as by nature I personally am a fairly self-sufficient, flexible character.

I don’t want this to be misinterpreted though. There were plenty of moments throughout the week that I really enjoyed, and have extremely fond memories of. Sharing delicious cheeses in beautiful restaurants and feeling the warmth of the natural wine coating our words, before wandering through the leafy back-streets, (foolishly) tasting oranges from the trees; surprising one of our colleagues who arrived late with shots of Polish alcohol brought by another, taken from hotel espresso cups; experiencing the surreal beauty of the view from Mount Lycabettus as if it was the first time again. All of these are experiences that I feel very fortunate to have had.

Over the years, these trips have increasingly taken on additional emotional significance – with each one forcing some kind of introspection or shift in perspective. Long gone are the days where I could just turn up, ride the wave, and then get off. Part of that is probably down to my tenure, but I think it is also largely to do with the additional weight of responsibility that I now feel. Spending a full week with a group of people is always going to be an intense experience, and it is especially so given the way that we do them. These are not your usual corporate events, where you just rock up for a few hours then disappear. From almost the minute you wake up until the minute you go to sleep, you have to be on – particularly as a lead. Navigating the lines between work friends, friends from work, and all of the associated complications takes a much bigger toll on me than I was ever prepared for. I would love to be able to just disconnect and lead from a distance to shield myself from all of that, but it simply isn’t possible. Nor, to be honest. Is it my style. Are we colleagues, or…?

It wasn’t until I sat on the plane back to Glasgow that I realised just how little space I had allowed for my brain to decompress on this trip. As I sat with headphones on, the music flowed over me for the first time in weeks, and it felt like my mind was being dipped in some kind of beautiful, textured, sonic bath. I’ve not quite sorted out in my head how I feel after the past few weeks, but I’m very grateful to have had the opportunity. There aren’t many jobs or teams out there that would provoke such a reaction – and I am lucky to be part of this community.