I arrived in Athens mid afternoon, after a rather cramped business-class flight from Heathrow. Amongst the new toys the Greeks have given themselves this Christmas is a new airport and a new subway system. Unfortunately, the latter doesn't go to the former, which meant that if I didn't want to get taken advantage of by a cabbie (why is it the only civilized cabbies in the world are in London?), my only choice (which I took) was an eternal bus ride through some of Athens ugly suburbs. Let's face it, Athens has a lot of ugly suburbs to chose from.

But shortly before sunset, I was in my hotel, which felt and smelled brand new. It's only later I've learned that it's actually an old hotel which, like much of the rest of Athens, has been gutted and rebuilt in time for the Olympics this Summer. I'd taken the subway for the last leg of the trip into the city from the airport, so I hadn't seen the Athens skyline as yet. I knew that this hotel had a great rooftop view of the Acropolis, so, without even unpacking I tore upstairs. And wow, what a sight. After unpacking, and a brief grocery shopping expedition, I returned to the rooftop to see the Acropolis by night, all lit up. Just thrilling.

But I was fagged out - still jetlagged from my transatlantic flight, so I curled up in my comfy bed for a few hours. By the time I got up and about, it was 11.30. I'd done some research on the gay clubs, but hadn't really determined the right place to go. One person had recommended Lambda, which had the advantage of being within walking distance. Another person had advised me not to go there, since it was somewhat seedy. The other places were somewhere across town on streets that I couldn't find on my map, let alone pronounce. (Athens streetnames tend to be extremely long with way too many vowels - try these on: Theofilpoulou, Paraskevopoulou, and Konstantinoupoleos.)

So I went to the place with the split recommendation. Warning if you're planning on visiting Athens (and I wished I'd found this out not from experience): Greeks don't even go out until 1.30. When I got there, there were about ten men, all of whom were standing against a wall, smoking, and staring at each other. As nonchalantly as I could, I sauntered up to the bar and got a vodka on the rocks. Then stood against the wall, staring around. After half an hour of this, I saw that the few new people who'd arrived had gone downstairs, so I gave that a try. More men standing against various walls, smoking and staring at each other. Oh, and a back room. By 1.30, there were still only about eighty men, so I came to the conclusion that the Greeks obviously don't really do homosexuality like they used to, and went home.

There are few feelings I enjoy more than the excitement of going out to discover a new city. Everything is strange and new: you walk around, eyes wide open, drinking it all in, feeling as free as a bird, wondering what's around the next corner. After a huge buffet breakfast in my hotel, I set out up the narrow, winding, old streets of the Plaka neighborhood that lead up to the Acropolis. It was Sunday morning, of course, so many people were in church; passing one such church, you could hear plain singing and chanting, unadorned, with no music, something like Greek architecture: arresting by its strength and simplicity.

I came across the Roman Agora, or market place, which was laid out over a few blocks. The knock-out feature of the sight is the Tower of Winds, a hexagonal structure built, oh, only 2200 years ago as a combination sundial, weather vane, water clock and compass.

Finally, I was on the steep path up to the Acropolis. This path is not for the infirm, and I'd imagine it would be impassable in the rain, since it's formed of shiny, old slabs of slippery marble. When you first pass through the Propylai and enter the Panathenaic Way, you're hit by your first full sight of the Parthenon, one of the most famous and influential buildings in the world. It's huge, and vastly impressive. It sends a shiver down your spine to know that it's been striking visitors this way for two millenia.

View of the Parthenon from the neighboring hill. It was a beautifully warm day.

Side view of the Parthenon

Architectural detail, high up on one corner.

The maidens of the Erectheion (sanctuary), atop the same plain, at the top of the Acropolis, as the Parthenon.

From Filopappou Hill, overlooking Athens

I spent an hour or so, after visiting the Acropolis, hiking over the rocky neighboring hill, Filopappou, which has a couple of monuments of it's own, and sunbathing in the gorgeous sunshine. It sounds silly, but as you tread over the rocks, completely bare of visitors, you can't help but imagine the Ancient Greeks doing likewise.

I had lunch back in Plaka, and decided it was time to learn some Greek. So I asked the owner of the restaurant how you say "thankyou" in Greek. Now, most places I've been to, I've been able to learn the basic rudimentary phrases. But the Greek way of saying "thank you" sounds like a man with chronic congestion clearing his throat. It's all greek to me, ba dum dum.

Late afternoon, I met up with a guy named Alex, whom I'd met online. We arranged to meet at the Hotel Grand Bretagne, one of the grand hotels of the world. I'd seen photos only of his, errm ... well ... of his rather impressive torso, so I was wondering if the handsome, well-dressed man on the steps of the hotel was Alex. To my relief, it was him. We spent a pleasant late afternoon walking round downtown Athens in search of the perfect coffee shop, getting to know each other, talking about the extensive house cleaning Athens is undergoing for the Olympics, and about Greece's place in history. I'd wondered what it was like to wake up every day and see that formidable building dominating the skyline, remembering every day that Greece was a fallen civilisation. And I think that, like England, Greece suffers from a feeling of having fallen, and of having to make up for it by presenting a spic-and-span Athens to the world this Summer.

Alex was a very masculine, straight-forward man whom you instinctively trusted as a decent guy who was good for his word. He was obviously upper middle class, and a little but of a snob. When I told him I'd been to Lambda, he almost scowled, saying something about nasty Albanians. He made it clear enough that he thought me attractive, but that there wasn't going to be any hanky panky. Although there was a moment, after we'd decided to go to the gym together, when we stopped by his place so he could get his workout stuff, and he perched himself on the arm of my chair to show me some photos of him in California, when I thought he was going to make a move. I'm glad he didn't, since I wasn't feeling at all sexual. It was nice to meet a good guy who wasn't all about sex. I'd formed the opinion, right or wrong, that Greek gay life is very sexualised: seventy five percent of the profiles of Athens men on gaydar.com had erect penis shots.

I was exhausted after my work out: hours of walking this morning exploring the Acropolis and Filopappou Hill, hours of walking in the afternoon with Alex, and then a strenuous workout. I returned to my hotel and napped. Now it's 11.48 and I'm wondering whether I should go out or not (I now at least know where I should go). I feel I ought to - so I can experience good, gay Greek life. But I'm so tired. What should I do? I guess tune in tomorrow to find out if I chickened out and went to sleep.