It seems like every time I visit a country, some kind of horror befalls me; which makes me wonder whether my life story is some horror/thriller or dark humour film. This time, we got robbed in Greece.
Let’s begin, shall we?
Our day started out like any other day in Athens did. Begrudgingly throwing the blankets off, turning the water heater on, waiting for a grace period of 20 minutes and then sprinting to the shower was our routine. While the bestie showered and dressed, I made Greek coffee which would heat up my hands and cheeks; the first step to prepping me to brave the cold winds outside our apartment.

With a ginormous pretzel-bread-thing for breakfast, we headed out while planning out our day.

As we began our third day of exploring Athens, we had a lot planned that we missed from our first day in the city – from running track at the Panathenaic Stadium, eating more gyros – obviously, to walking around the Acropolis in search of more attractions that were covered in the all-inclusive ticket that we bought at the Acropolis on Day One.
Fun fact – our all-inclusive ticket was valid for 5 days!
However, our main concern was at which part of our day we would head to Syntagma Square to watch those beauties march in a slow parade outside the Hellenic Parliament. This time of course, we decided to visit them in the daytime. And boy did we enjoy it – quite obviously. From dark blue to white, their outfits had changed for the day which made them even more interesting to observe in broad daylight.
We hopped onto the metro from Ampelokipoi station to Syntagma, and headed straight to the Hellenic Parliament and the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. We watched the ritual ( of course this was definitely our favourite thing to do in Athens!), except there was something different this time. The entire square was covered with Greek police all shielded and gunned up, and with riot vehicles. Unsure as to what exactly was going to happen, we hung around the guards (at least they would have protected us if something happened), and watched as roads were cordoned off and the (fine eye-candy) police force formed barriers with their shields in front of the parliament.
After a couple of minutes with no action and eager to catch up on the other attractions, we headed back to the Acropolis, in search of the Panathenaic Stadium!
The Panatheatic Stadium

This probably deserves a blog post on its own – read more about how I ran the entire track around the first Olympic stadium and won. >> here <<
Roman Agora & Plaka
While walking around, we ventured upon the Roman Agora too – which looked pretty cool. But at the time, we started to get tired of walking through ruins… so we decided to spice up our day with some shopping instead –back to Plaka!
At Plaka, we bought plenty of souvenirs, for ourselves and those back home too. My favourite souvenirs from Athens included -(but not limited to)
- A clay magnet of the Greek gods/goddesses attached with an olive soap
- wine-infused soap
- trinkets and magnets
- local liquor and shot glasses
- a ‘Greek Lovers’ themed calendar
- a Greek-chess set (bestie got this)
Lunch at Plaka
Totally famished, we stopped for lunch at the centre of what seemed like a tourist hotspot. The area was packed with tables on almost every inch of the street. It was noisy and bustling with energy – we just did not know where to look! Our gyros and dakos salad were subpar from what we’ve had in Greece. And we learnt a crucial lesson; avoid eating at tourist-crowded places. A local band near us played some up-tempo Greek music, which made us eat way too as fast. To add to the hustle, there were beggars/people pleading with us to buy things and even offering to give us roses for free? It was a somewhat unpleasant experience -not a ‘sit down and while a few hours away’ kind of atmosphere that we had grown to love about Greece. After gobbling down our ‘meh’ meal, we headed back to shopping and strolling through streets of souvenirs.

With the sun on its way down, we stopped for Loukoumades before heading back to…. *drum roll please*… Syntagma Square and the beautiful soldiers at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldiers. Yes, we had no shame; but at this point, we were just trying to break our own record. This would be the 4th time during our week-long vacation in Greece that we would see them.
The Horror Begins
Scene 1 – Acropolis Station to Syntagma Square Station
As most of my souvenirs fit in my backpack (avoided the use of plastics too with this option!), I only had one extra bag to carry which didn’t fit in my backpack. Acropoli station was packed by 6 pm – which we didn’t realise was ‘rush hour’. The first metro came by, but we passed off on it, as it was too packed to even try to get inside. The second metro came by, and we decided it was now or never. Having a hard time trying to squeeze into the same compartment; I rushed off to one and bestie got into the second. Momentarily splitting up seemed okay, because it was just a 2-minute train ride to our stop at Syntagma. How bad can it be right?
Obviously. Very bad.
Scene 2 – The Metro Ride
Having just managed to squeeze through, I was still pretty much a footstep away from the doors and 2 seconds before the doors close, a man rushed in – (let’s call him Jacket Man) who was determined to get inside. His jacket got caught between the doors and he fussed and shoved until he managed to pull himself free from the sealed doors. As he was fumbling and fussing around, which started to annoy me, I looked around at the two lady passengers on my right and left side, who seemed as annoyed as I was, at this stupid man.
The train started to move, I felt my body being pushed and shoved between two-three burly men behind and on the side of me. NOW, this was a usual routine on Sri Lankan trains; especially when I used to travel to work by train. But I was also wary of pickpockets. My mom was pickpocketed by three men on a bus in Sri Lanka; who managed to form a human wall between her and myself; blocking my view. But c’mon, this was Greece – not Sri Lanka. These men were also speaking a foreign dialect, which in my very limited knowledge sounded a lot like Italian. Still feeling completely uncomfortable, I started wiggling around trying to break free from their bodies. Just as I did, I felt a hand gripping my shoulder and pushing it down – my level of ease and comfort hit the floor faster than bird shit, and just then I decided the best thing to do was to bring my backpack to the front of me. Unable to move because of these men pressing up against me, I wiggled one strap off and swung it to the floor of the train, dropping my backpack on my toes. At least, I could see my backpack now. The lady on my left was now watching me and glaring at the men behind me. The backpack flap was still the right way around, so I thought I was in the clear.
Scene 3 – Syntagma Square Station
The metro came to a stop and I jumped out; eager to see the bestie. As I met her, I relayed the incident on the train and told her how about the creepy, pickpocket vibe I got from the Italian men. We proceeded towards the escalators – still frantically discussing the situation. Halfway to the top, I decided to check my bag only to realise that the zip was already open! Panic and anxiety flooded as I started digging past my hoards of souvenirs and my scarf that was also packed in the backpack, in search of my purse.
We reached the top and I rushed to the side, unpacking everything from my stuffed backpack onto the floor; desperately hoping my purse was in there. It took me 2 seconds to realise that the men on the metro stole it. I ran down the flight of stairs to try to get to the metro but only made it down halfway when the metro left the station.
I crumbled.
Bestie and I started panicking. She checked her bag and realised that it was open too – and 200 Euros were taken. Her wallet though was thankfully, still there. We rushed to the nearest police/guard, who looked like he couldn’t be fucked IMO. Calmly, and with a non-nonsense care in the world, told us to head to the tourist police station to file a complaint. As he was talking, I started to cry; the situation only now fully sinking in. We got the number and directions for the station and headed out of the station, cause I had to call all my banks and cancel my cards.
Scene 4 – Syntagma Square Steps

Seated directly opposite the Hellenic Parliament, on the Syntagma Square steps; stifling tears and trying to stop my hands from shaking; I started calling my banks. What was once our second most favourite place in the city, the first being directly in front of the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, was now panic-city.
HSBC – They took more than 5 whole minutes to answer the hotline number. The lady on the other end, was no help at all. She kept asking for my name, but couldn’t spell it out properly; so, I spelt it out, but the letters sounded so foreign that she was confusing the I in my name for an E. This itself took more than 20 minutes, before she finally got it right. But then tells me that there’s no card registered with my name. Another 15 minutes later, she realises I’m from Sri Lanka and asks me to call the branch in Sri Lanka instead cause she can’t help me! By this time, my phone was out of call credit; and the exquisite Vodafone provider only relayed the message in Greek, so obviously I had no idea what the message was until we asked a Greek cop to translate it for us. The cop and her two cop buddies were more helpful than the metro cop. They were much more sympathetic and kind, and directed us to the nearest police station, just pass the parliament, to file a complaint.
30 minutes after the incident, I managed to get in touch with my sister back home, who called HSBC and my local bank and blocked both cards from her end. Worst overseas customer service award goes to HSBC.
Scene 4 – The Police Station
Remember how there was riot police in the morning? They were still there in the evening too, except twice as more. Roads were blocked off; police barriers were formed everywhere and cops hung out 5 feet apart. I was too distracted and troubled to even ogle at them as we tried to find the police station. It was almost 7pm and the streets were dark and heavily guarded. What other drama did we have to face, Athens?!
We got to the station, dodged past the good-looking cops; who I finally started to notice after the trauma started fading away; just enough to ease me a bit.
After explaining the entire situation; we filled out forms and got our police report 20 minute later – which was in Greek (no English translation either!). Completely worn out and afraid, we decided not to go back towards the parliament, or back on the metro, so bestie booked a cab and we headed back home.

Scene 5 – Back at the Apartment
We were too shaken up to even consider having dinner. I was certainly not hungry after that situation! A warm shower that managed to shake off some of the tension and anxiety later, we got onto bed and switched on the telly- hoping to drown out the noise in our heads. After replaying and narrating the story over and over to each other; we started our research. Documents needed to file for insurance claims, nearest Greek to English translators and what the hell was happening in front of the Hellenic Parliament that day.
Turns out, it was the anniversary of the day, Greek police shot a 15-year-old kid named Alexandros Grigoropoulos, during a street altercation in central Athens on December 2008. The convicted officer was jailed and released earlier in the year after his sentence was reduced on appeal. The locals were furious and all hell broke loose in Athens and neighbouring cities. There was arson and tear gas and violence. The police were expecting the same thing, or even worse that day.
As we relayed the events that unfollowed, desperately trying to find reasons as to how what, why where. It was then that I realised Jacket Man was the distraction. He MEANT to get caught between the doors and draw everyone’s eyes towards him, so no one will notice his buddies robbing me – and god knows who else.
Silver Linings
Yep, we found ours. We were glad our passports or phones were not stolen. And despite getting robbed, we were glad we didn’t stick around too long that night in front of the parliament; as we would have been in the middle of a massively violent protest. Grateful that Zeus showed us some mercy, we somewhat felt our shoulders drop and ease, just a bit. Just enough to drift asleep. More than anything, we were emotionally exhausted and eager to shake off the dreadful feeling of being unsafe and alone – OH, and broke with no credit/debit cards!
Luckily, to curb on my souvenir shopping earlier that morning, I tucked 200 Euros into a separate pocket of my backpack. The smartest decision I ever made! My stolen wallet only had 10 Euros – the last of my shopping allocation, my cards, IDs and insurance cards – ha ha suckers. My next challenge was to survive the next two days with just that – including an expensive cab ride to the airport (roughly 60 Euros). Did I survive?!
End Scene.
Stay tuned to find out how I spent my last two days in Athens after getting robbed.
Yours truly,
Imperfect Traveller