I often think of this phrase by Pierre Louÿs when I look back on my time in Athens. There is something about Greece that seems to bend the rules of time. The past doesn’t feel like something left behind, but rather something that surrounds you — in a stone you stumble upon as you turn a corner, a small chapel tucked between buildings, the worn marble beneath your feet, or the Acropolis rising above the rooftops. And yet, it exists alongside the present: the motorcycles weaving through the streets, the markets, the crowded restaurants, the layers of graffiti.

Perhaps that’s what made my time at MONA so special.

Está ubicado en Psirri, uno de los barrios más vivos del centro de Atenas, a pocos pasos de Monastiraki, la antigua Ágora, el mercado y pequeñas iglesias. Desde que sales por la puerta, la ciudad ya forma parte de la experiencia. Lo interesante es que nada se siente como una atracción aislada: la historia sucede entre la vida cotidiana. Puedes caminar hacia el mercado y encontrarte con la Atenas de hoy; unas calles después, con una piedra que lleva ahí cientos o miles de años.

Mona  is located in Psirri, one of the liveliest neighborhoods in central Athens, just steps from Monastiraki, the ancient Agora, the market, and small neighborhood churches. The moment you step outside, the city becomes part of the experience.

What’s fascinating is that nothing feels like a separate attraction or a preserved fragment of the past. History unfolds alongside everyday life. You can walk toward the market and find yourself immersed in present-day Athens, only to turn a corner a few streets later and come across a stone that has been there for hundreds, even thousands, of years.

Mona ocupa una antigua fábrica textil de los años cincuenta y me gustó desde el primer momento que no intentara esconder su edad. El concreto permanece expuesto, al igual que las ventanas de hierro, la escalera antigua, el mármol y las paredes gastadas. Sobre esa estructura aparecen terciopelos, maderas, textiles, piezas de arte y objetos encontrados. El resultado es urbano y, a su vez, íntimo.

Las cortinas de las habitaciones me llamaron especialmente la atención. Ligeras, casi transparentes, caen desde el techo como columnas. Tienen algo teatral, aunque muy suave; como si el espacio estuviera a medio camino entre una habitación y un escenario.

Mona  is housed in a 1950s textile factory, and one of the things I loved most was how unapologetically it embraces its past. Nothing feels overly polished or designed to erase what was there before. Exposed concrete, iron-framed windows, an old staircase, marble, and worn walls all remain part of the architecture.

Then there are the softer layers: velvet, wood, textiles, artworks, and objects collected over time. Together, they create a space that feels both raw and refined, distinctly urban but surprisingly intimate.

The curtains in the rooms stayed with me. Almost sheer and suspended from the ceiling, they fall in long, fluid lines, somewhere between drapery and architecture. There’s a subtle theatrical quality to them — they make the rooms feel less like traditional bedrooms and more like quiet stages, where something is always about to happen.

Y luego estaba la comodidad, que tras un día entero recorriendo Atenas adquiría otra dimensión. La cama de Mona es de esas que se recuerdan: colchón hecho a mano con materiales naturales, sábanas de algodón, una iluminación agradable y una atmósfera general de calma. Después de tantas horas por la ciudad, regresar a la habitación y entregarse al descanso era un verdadero placer.

And then there was the comfort, something that takes on a different meaning after a full day of walking through Athens. Mona’s beds are the kind you remember: handmade mattresses crafted from natural materials, soft cotton sheets, warm lighting, and an overall sense of calm.

After hours of wandering through the city, coming back to the room felt like a ritual of its own. There was something deeply satisfying about closing the door, slowing down, and simply giving in to rest.

Las mañanas empezaban ahí, con café recién molido, miel de brezo de Kimolos, buenos ingredientes y los mejores huevos con curry que he probado. Me gustaba esa pequeña rutina: despertar, abrir las cortinas desayunar sin prisa y después salir a caminar.

By morning, that feeling of ease carried on. Freshly ground coffee, heather honey from Kimolos, beautiful ingredients, and the best curry eggs I’ve ever had, made breakfast feel like part of the experience itself. I loved the rhythm of those mornings: waking up, drawing back the curtains, taking my time over breakfast, and then heading out to wander through Athens.

Uno de los días fui a Delphi.

Hay algo particular en visitar un sitio arqueológico y volver después a una ciudad como Atenas. Durante horas estás entre piedras, columnas y montañas, intentando imaginar una vida ocurrida hace tanto tiempo que resulta casi imposible dimensionarla. Y luego regresas al presente.

Aquella noche llegué a Mona y llené la tina con agua caliente.

Fue uno de esos momentos pequeños que terminan quedándose más que muchas de las cosas que uno planea recordar. Todavía tenía Delphi en la cabeza: las piedras, el paisaje, las ruinas. Y, sin embargo, al entrar en la habitación no sentí que hubiera dejado aquel lugar por completo.

Había una relación inesperada entre ambos espacios. Quizá porque en Atenas la antigüedad no está encerrada en un museo: aparece en los materiales, en las proporciones, en la luz y en las calles. Puede acompañarte durante el día y reaparecer, de otra forma, unas horas después en una tina de agua caliente.

Esa continuidad me gustaba.

One of the days, I went to Delphi.

There is something particular about spending a day at an archaeological site and then returning to a city like Athens. For hours, you move among stones, columns, and mountains, trying to imagine a world that existed so long ago it is almost impossible to grasp. And then, suddenly, you are back in the present.

That evening, I returned to Mona and ran a hot bath.

It was one of those quiet, unplanned moments that somehow stay with you longer than the things you set out to remember. Delphi was still on my mind, the stones, the landscape, the ruins. And yet, once I stepped back into the room, I didn’t feel entirely removed from it.

There was an unexpected connection between the two places. Perhaps because in Athens, antiquity is never entirely separate from everyday life. It lives in the materials, the proportions, the light, the streets. You can spend the day surrounded by it and, hours later, find traces of that same feeling in an entirely different setting, alone in a warm bath at Mona.

I liked that sense of continuity.

Casi al atardecer subía a la terraza.

Desde ahí, la Acrópolis domina el paisaje. No como una postal, sino como una presencia constante sobre una ciudad completamente viva. Abajo, Atenas seguía con su ruido, sus luces y sus edificios; arriba, la Acrópolis parecía pertenecer a otro tiempo.

Me quedaba mirándola y mi imaginación hacía el resto.

Hay algo profundamente romántico en mirar un lugar que ha sobrevivido a tantas vidas y preguntarse por las que estuvieron ahí antes.

La terraza de Mona parece hecha para contemplar la ciudad, con la Acrópolis justo enfrente. “Una carta de amor sensual al paisaje majestuosamente urbano de Atenas” me pareció una descripción muy acertada. Estando ahí, entendí que no hablaba solo de diseño, sino de la esencia de la ciudad: esa convivencia entre lo majestuoso y lo cotidiano.

The rooftop became my favorite place to be as the day came to an end.

The Acropolis fills the horizon from up there. It doesn’t feel like a postcard or a distant landmark, but something much more present, watching over a city that never really slows down. Athens carries on below with its traffic, lights, and restless energy, while the Acropolis seems suspended in another time.

I would find myself staring at it, letting my mind wander.

There is something deeply romantic about looking at a place that has witnessed so many lives and imagining all the people who once stood where you are standing now.

Mona’s rooftop feels made for taking in the city, with the Acropolis directly ahead. “A sensual love letter to Athens’ majestically urban landscape” felt like a fitting description. Sitting there, I realized it was about more than design, it captured something essential about the city itself: the way grandeur and everyday life exist side by side.

Lo que más me gustó de Mona es que no se siente separado de Atenas. Conserva las huellas de lo que fue, pero está completamente abierto al presente. Durante esos días se convirtió en mi punto de regreso: salía a perderme por la ciudad y volvía ahí. Poco a poco dejó de sentirse como un hotel y empezó a sentirse como un lugar propio.

Quizá eso es habitar un lugar, aunque sea por unos días.

Mona fue eso para mí: una casa temporal en medio de una ciudad que lleva miles de años aprendiendo a seguir siendo joven.

What I loved most about Mona was how deeply connected it felt to Athens. It carries traces of its past while remaining completely open to the present. Over those days, it became my point of return — I would head out into the city with no particular plan, get lost in its streets, and eventually find my way back here. Little by little, it stopped feeling like a hotel and started to feel like somewhere that was mine.

Maybe that’s what it means to inhabit a place, even if only for a few days.

That’s what Mona became for me: a temporary home in the middle of a city that, after thousands of years, still knows how to remain young.