I’ve always had a weakness for Athens.

And I can’t entirely explain why.

Perhaps it’s the rather extraordinary confidence of a city that has absolutely no intention of hiding its age.

While the rest of the world spends a fortune trying to look younger, Athens puts its wrinkles on display and calls them civilisation.

Quite fabulous, actually.

I remember looking at the Parthenon, enjoying champagne, wine, and octopus.

Not exactly how they taught ancient history at school.

But considerably more enjoyable.

There’s something wonderfully dramatic about ancient ruins existing in the middle of a modern city.

Not behind the glass of a museum. Not separated from everyday life.

Just thousands of years of history, sharing the neighbourhood with people who have dinner plans.

And somehow, it works.

Perhaps that’s what I love about Athens.

It doesn’t seem interested in choosing between its glorious past and its present life.

It simply allows both to exist.

At ÉDITON, we’re fascinated by places where history isn’t something you merely admire. It’s something you live alongside.

And I can’t help wondering whether that’s a rather elegant lesson for the rest of us.

You don’t have to erase your past to remain interesting.

Sometimes, the past is exactly what makes you irresistible.

Especially with a glass of wine and a very good octopus.