I start my first full day in Athens struggling to figure out how to turn on the shower. After twisting and turning the knob, it falls onto the tile floor. I’m not sure if I swore at that point, but I hear a man’s voice outside my door saying that it is broken and he knows how to make it work.

So, I’m staying at the Dioskouros Hostel at a great location just off the Plaka at the base of the Acropolis. The Plaka, a historic neighbourhood that is built on the original townsite, has narrow, cobblestone streets with lots of shops and cafes. It is a very cool place to be and I am starting my European journey with a private room in this hostel with a shared bathroom. I’ve only seen one other person in this rather classy old building, this being the off season. So I am a bit surprised at there being someone else around. I wrap my sarong around my body and open the door to a middle-aged man with a towel wrapped around his waist. He puts the tap back on and shows me how to turn it to make it work, then bows out the door and I proceed to have a nice warm shower, in spite of the shower missing one of its glass panels so that water is spraying all over the floor. Not really my problem!

So I have met James, who, when I leave my locked shower room, is showering behind a glass door in the space I need to walk through to exit. A rather strange configuration, but maybe this is how all hostels are or maybe this is just Greece!

I meet James again in the breakfast room of the hostel with his wife, whose name I have forgotten. James is from Brazil and his wife is French. They live in northern France and are traveling around Greece and are planning to take a boat to one of the islands, or buy a boat – I didn’t quite get that straight. We had a lovely chat over coffee and Greek yogurt and were joined by a young man, also from France, who has been cycling through Europe since October. The conversation was in both French and English, with James and his wife translating the French part for me. We are very lucky, as English speakers, that English is the common language used around the world when communicating with someone who doesn’t know your language.

Remi, the 25-year old cyclist, got tired of his well-paying job that he hated, quit it, ended a relationship, and is on a spiritual journey to find what is important in life. He is a gentle, soft-spoken man with a light in his eyes as he taps his head and says that he now knows who he is. He is hoping to get a job on a yacht headed to Egypt and cycle around Egypt.

The four of us had a lovely time together, sharing travel stories, confirming that no matter where one travels, one will experience the kindness of other humans. The world is not as scary as it appears when listening to the news and never venturing far from home.

I decided that for my first day, I would just wander around, find a warm place to have a coffee and write. Central Athens is a wonderful maze of narrow, pedestrian streets and squares. As I wandered, looking for a good place to have coffee, I saw a shop selling leather boots, so I stopped in to see what they had. Leather boots, made in Greece. The sales woman assured me that the leather would stretch to fit comfortably over my bunion and she showed me her bunion and how she had special insoles made for her feet, but after wearing these boots, her feet had actually straightened. She invited me to try some on, but I told her I’d come back after I had eaten. Of course, she says, in Greece they say that you can’t make good decisions on an empty stomach! She gave me her card and I promised to come back. And I will. That will be day 2 in Athens.

I did find coffee. I happened upon a little place kind of protected from the cool wind (it was about plus 10, sunny, but with a nasty cold wind blowing over the snow-capped mountains that I saw as my plane was landing). There was a counter to sit at inside, but I opted for a little table on the sidewalk. The server brought me my double Greek coffee and a glass of water, apologizing that her English wasn’t very good and I apologized for my horrible Greek. After several weeks of Duolingo and listening to a “learn basic Greek” podcast and writing down key phrases, I can’t seem to come out with an understandable “thank you” (efcharisto) or “good morning” (kalimera).

I thought I should try Greek coffee instead of a cappuccino, after all, I am in Greece. But now that I’ve tried it, I can go back to my regular. It was extremely strong, which is okay. It was the thick sludge on the bottom that put me off.

I finally did find a warm place inside to eat. Veneto Bakery. After drooling over the display cases of Greek pastries, macaroons, chocolates, pizzas and assorted savoury pastries, I came to a display of hot lunch dishes. I ordered some vegetables in a sauce and chicken breasts and went upstairs to an area with tables. The food was delivered to me and I managed to connect to their WiFi and get some writing done. And it was warm and and a great place to people watch.

About 2:00 the place got very busy with the lunch crowd, as Greeks, like much of the world, have a late lunch and very late dinner, so I headed out, making my way back to my hostel, looking forward to a nice nap. But sleep eluded me, even though I felt exhausted. It was, after all, bedtime in Australia. That darn Greek coffee!