When Pierre de Coubertin’s vision of reviving the Olympic Games became reality in 1896, the choice of stadium to be held was anything but random. Beneath the (at the time ransacked) marble stands of the 204-metre long oval stadium were the ruins of a 4th century BC arena used for the Panathenaic Games, one of the four major athletic competitions of antiquity, and later by Roman gladiators. A private benefactor, Georgios Averoff, paid to have the stadium beautifully refitted with gleaming white stone from the same Pendeli quarry used millennia earlier to build the Acropolis, thus earning the venue its Greek name—Kallimarmaron, or beautiful marble. If climbing some 50 rows to reach the top of the world’s only all-marble stadium is daunting, walk up Eratosthenous and turn onto Archimidous Street to the rear entrance. This leads to a track around the stadium’s upper rim, a popular training run for local joggers. Follow the path through the Ardittos woods for one of the best views over the centre of Athens and the Acropolis.

Platia Varnava is Pangrati’s hip answer to Platia Proskopon’s entrenched cool. Unlike typical Athens squares, the action isn’t in the middle but on its periphery and the streets around it, stretching as far as the smaller Platia Plastira. The neighbourhood’s humbler origins survive in the men chatting idly outside the old-fashioned barber’s just metres from one of the city’s first Michelin-starred restaurant. The cafes and meze bars extend down Empedokleous, a shaded semi-pedestrian street with palm fronds poking over the mulberry trees. Pensioners picking over produce at the Friday farmer's market, which switches seasonally to different sides of the square, mingle easily with tattooed youths sipping freddos from mason jars.

Death and burial have been constant themes in Greek civilisation since antiquity. And it’s quite likely that the kitsch plastic wreaths sold at the stands along Anapafseos Street—literally, eternal rest—and outside the First Cemetery gates had their counterparts then, too. But this gawdiness does not prepare you for the splendour of the grandiose memorials inside. The 170,00-square-metre necropolis is officially a national museum, as key figures of modern Greek history are buried in many of the 10,000-odd plots. Former prime ministers, film stars, even the German archaeologist Heinrich Schliemann lay buried beneath some remarkable sculpture. Not all memorials are eponymous. A simple bronze statue of a woman clutching a baby to her emaciated body is dedicated to all survivors of the Nazi occupation. Another stand-out among the marble rococo is the grave of poet Costas Varnalis: an avant-garde bronze marked simply: “Peace, the kingdom of human friendship.”