Why athens

The state, which had spent most of its Marshall Aid funds on simply trying to survive the civil war, had neither the tools nor the money to build any housing.

Hunger was widespread. Violence, motivated both by politics and by economic inequality, was rife. The situation was desperate. A radical solution had to be found. That radical solution came not from above, but from below; from a unique system known as antiparochi. To put it simply, antiparochi is why Athens looks like Athens.

He would knock down his house, and build a block of flats in its place. In return, the homeowner would be given a certain number of flats usually two or three , while the contractor would then make his money by selling the remaining flats to Greeks who were seeking accommodation.

Generally, no money was exchanged and no contracts were signed. There were no property taxes — the state never made any direct income from antiparochi. It provided homeowners and home seekers with modern apartments, while creating enough profit for the contractors to continue investing in construction without state subsidies or bank loans.

Thousands of unemployed Greeks found work as builders, making enough money to send remittances back to their families in the provinces. The state, meanwhile, could focus its resources on building up other sectors of the economy such as infrastructure, agriculture and tourism. Between and , the Greek economy grew by 7.

Construction was one of the main drivers of this boom. The system also managed — very successfully — to diminish the political polarisation in Athens. Instead of a highly polarised city with expensive, bourgeois districts in one area and slums in another area, what happened was that the upper-middle class and the lower-middle class were living together in the same building.

This created a social and economic integration that helped obscure the class divisions of post-War Athens. In short, everybody was making money, everybody was getting homes and everybody was, theoretically, able to escape the grinding poverty of the countryside, and start a new life in the city.

Like Silicon Valley today, ancient Athens during this brief period became a talent magnet, attracting smart, ambitious people. A city with a population equivalent to that of Wichita, Kansas, it was an unlikely candidate for greatness: Other Greek city-states were larger Syracuse or wealthier Corinth or mightier Sparta. Yet Athens produced more brilliant minds—from Socrates to Aristotle—than any other place the world has seen before or since.

Only Renaissance Florence came close. One of the biggest misperceptions about places of genius, though, is that they are akin to paradise. To the contrary, ancient Athens was a place of public opulence and private squalor. The streets were noisy, narrow, and dirty. The houses of the wealthy were indistinguishable from those of the poor, and both were equally shoddy—constructed of wood and sun-dried clay, and so flimsy that robbers gained entry by simply digging.

How did a small, dirty, crowded city, surrounded by enemies and swathed in olive oil, manage to change the world? This question has stumped historians and archaeologists for centuries, but the answer may lie in what we already know about life in Athens back in the day. The ancient Athenians enjoyed a deeply intimate relationship with their city.

Civic life was not optional, and the Athenians had a word for those who refused to participate in public affairs: idiotes. There was no such thing as an aloof, apathetic Athenian. All of ancient Athens displayed a combination of the linear and the bent, the orderly and the chaotic. The Parthenon, perhaps the most famous structure of the ancient world, looks like the epitome of linear thinking, rational thought frozen in stone, but this is an illusion: The building has not a single straight line.

Each column bends slightly this way or that. But as the green shoots of an economic recovery started to sprout and word of an Athens creative and cultural renaissance spread, a more diverse group of foreigners began to arrive to plant their own roots in the city.

But due to locking down early in March, Greece kept cases remarkably low and emerged from the first lockdown with its international reputation enhanced. Although the economic damage is severe and ongoing, the pandemic appears to have done little to diminish the allure of life in Athens for foreigners.

In fact, with workers in a variety of industries forced to work from home due to the pandemic, many have decided to embrace the possibilities of remote working from Athens, formerly the preserve of creative freelancers. But for the foreign-born new Athenians, hopes are bright for the future of Athens and of Greece in — and beyond. Ever since, it has collaborated with designers, buyers and cultural organizations to promote collectible design from the Eastern Mediterranean region and beyond.

Finally, the team took the reluctant decision to leave Beirut. Here, the gallery remains within easy reach of its network across the Middle East, yet enjoys the relative stability of the EU and easier access to art institutions and collectible design buyers across Europe. Many other Lebanese have made use of the Golden Visa scheme and bought properties in Athens. Greek people are eager for change, innovation and new things to happen in the city. The energy is really dynamic and you can feel it on the streets.

Anastasia was born in Corfu to a Greek father and a British mother. She left Corfu aged 11 for secondary school in the UK and spent her teens in Blackpool, a faded seaside resort in the north of England — where she picked up the slight northern twang that you can still just make out in her voice — before university in Manchester and a decade working in London. Despite London being a hub for media, Anastasia never felt she flourished there.

Year-on-year, the London grind became harder and harder to bear, and Anastasia began looking for a new base. Athens just felt so much more exciting than London. After returning from Buenos Aires to London and a particularly bleak British winter, she decided that enough was enough and relocated to Athens in March View: no detail some detail full detail.

Introduction Mark Griffith and D. Peter Wilson. Anne Duncan. Response to Griffith and OKell P. Response to Murnaghan and Visvardi Ian Ruffell. Response to Tzanetou and Vinh Barbara Goff. Part VI Athens and Greece. Response to Rosenbloom and Gibert A. All rights reserved.