Author: Megan Cameron

By Megan Cameron

Maria Mavrogianni was curled up in a fetal position on the ground, waiting for the music to begin. Cars passed through Pangrati in central Athens, trying to catch a glimpse of the spectacle that had drawn the eager crowd to gather outside the neighborhood’s Holy Church of Saint Spyridon on a recent Tuesday evening.

To her surprise, Mavrogianni had been asked to do this performance by the Municipality of Athens as a part of the Summer in Athens 2025 festival. The month-long program, which began on June 21st and ends on July 20th, involves over 57 events at more than 41 cultural venues around the city, all free to the public. The mayor of Athens, Haris Doukas, described the festival in a recent article from iefimerida as “proof that culture can be everywhere, addressed to everyone and even without a ticket.”

Having the opportunity to dance at festivals like this means a lot to Mavrogianni, who grew up dancing on the island of Crete. Though she now lives in Paris, where she has dedicated her life to performing and developing her craft, she doesn’t like to describe herself as a professional dancer. 

“When it comes to art, it is not the payment that makes it professional,” she said. The primary reason that she chooses to dance, especially in Greece, is because she sees it as “a way of giving back to her country.” When performing, she hopes to “inspire people to appreciate the art of hip-hop” and “get more involved in dance,” overall.

For over ten years, Mavrogianni specialized solely in classical ballet and contemporary. Now, at 22 years old, she describes her current style as “contemporary hip-hop freestyle.” This fusion occurred after she left home to study chemistry in Thessaloniki. This is where she witnessed and participated in her first hip-hop battle, an event where groups and individual dancers compete to improvise the best freestyle combinations. 

The fast pace of the battles was “really hard in the beginning” for Mavrogianni because she was “losing everything” as soon as her performance would start. In spite of this, she kept coming back every week, which she believes has made her a stronger person and dancer.

In Greece, “Athens is the best place to be if you want to dance,” Mavrogianni said. “Thessaloniki for hip-hop.” There, she has found the street-style community to be much more supportive compared to the competitive and unfriendly battle scenes she has encountered in Paris. Since the community is smaller in Thessaloniki, she says dancers “don’t have a lot of influence, but it’s easy to grow because people are hugging you in a way.” 

In addition to participating in festivals, Mavrogianni encourages others to join this unique community by leading workshops for people in Greece to learn about and explore hip-hop styles. She also helps run and organize community hip-hop jams with her friends in Thessaloniki.

Every time she dances, Mavrogianni says she evolves. She had done the solo she was set to perform at the Summer in Athens festival hundreds of times, but its current form is completely different from the first version she had created for a university assignment in November of 2024. “It’s really about what I have inside of me during a specific period of time,” she said. “It’s never the same.”

She wore a calf-length dress with green and yellow flowers which made her light pink hair stand out. Mavrogianni only had herself and a small white stool to appease the festival audience—no one, not even her, knew exactly what to expect. This freedom to grow is the beauty of the medium, and something she thinks Greece can benefit from.

By: Megan Cameron

Last Thursday, Dimitris Skiadis and his sister Eleni got lucky. They began the process of retrieving their nets at around 8:20pm, with Dimitris monitoring the reel and Eleni standing close by, ready to untangle each fish from the intricate snare of synthetic fibers. It was earlier than usual, so they weren’t expecting to catch much.

After only five minutes, the fish started piling up. Eleni said this was a good sign. Illuminated by the glow of the setting sun, her fingers worked at an astonishing pace, expertly removing fish after fish as 600 meters of yellow threads gradually accumulated at her side. A few more minutes passed, and she quickly spotted gaping holes in the netting, along with a few fish that had small bites taken out of their flesh. She then understood the cause of their good fortune.

Dolphins, which are spotted frequently in the crystal clear waters of the Cyclades and often cause more harm for fishermen than good by damaging equipment and raiding nets, had chased a school of fish into the right place at the right time. However, most days, the fish are a lot harder to come by.

Born and raised in Paros, Dimitris and Eleni have witnessed the decimation of the island’s fishing community firsthand. Overfishing, pollution, the arrival of invasive species like the poisonous lionfish and rabbitfish, and the implementation of counterproductive policies by the European Union (EU) have played a direct role in the destruction of traditional modes of fishing across Greece. To avoid falling victim to this, their family was forced to turn to fishing tourism.

Dimitris and Eleni were first taught to fish by their father, Adonis, at a time when the commercial fishing industry flourished and served as a crucial component of the Parian economy. They would spend days on the water, working together to make a living. Even now, at age 79, Adonis supports his children behind the scenes, mending damaged nets, attaching lures to longlines, and even offering assistance on the boat when Eleni is unavailable.

The most significant pieces of legislation to impact families like theirs were a series of EU directives passed between 2013 and 2014, which established the Common Fisheries Policy (CFP) and European Maritime and Fisheries Fund (EMFF). Together, the CFP and EMFF aimed to limit the impact of overfishing by offering financial incentives to Greek fishermen in exchange for destroying their boats and revoking their professional licenses.

Dimitris and Eleni’s boat, the Regina, was built by Dimitris when he was 14. He says he knows “where every single nail and every single piece of wood is placed,” and “no amount of money” would ever convince him to give it away. Since the boat is “very dear to his heart,” and keeping it in his possession was his top priority, giving it a few renovations and offering fishing charters for two months of the year was the clear choice for their family.

The current mayor of Paros, Kostas Bizas, believes the ultimate goal of the EU is to “gradually stop fishing” all together and turn to rely entirely on fish farming. He also acknowledged that these decisions, which are supposedly made “in the name of protecting the environment,” are often a result of the “big interests involved in European policies,” including mass fishing corporations.

“This whole situation right now, it’s all humans’ fault,” Dimitris said. “This is all made by human mistakes.”

By Megan Cameron

Nestled in the heart of the famous Plaka neighborhood sits Cine Paris, one of the oldest open-air cinemas in Athens. Each night, a glowing neon sign advertises the cinema’s name to the bustling Kidathineon Street. Three sets of wooden double doors sit below the sign, open wide to welcome tourists and locals alike with the promise of breathtaking views of the Acropolis, refuge from summer crowds, and, according to one ranking of the city’s best cinemas, distinct “nostalgic charm.”

When I first entered the cinema, its modern feel shocked me. I had come hoping to experience some nostalgia for myself, but the theater’s entryway was refreshingly pristine, constructed of spotless white floors, ceilings, and walls. I was greeted by a blast of artificially cooled air–a rarity in Greece, I have learned–and bright white lights, which both pleasantly surprised me and slightly disoriented me. Momentarily unsettled by the room’s faint sterile quality, and confused about where to go next, I was rescued by a friendly employee named Dimitris Panagiotis Zabouras.

Zabouras, a 22-year old university student, works at Cine Paris as a self-described generalist. During his shifts, which typically begin at 7:00pm and end around midnight, he is often responsible for completing a plethora of tasks. These include manning the cash register, directing customers to their seats, keeping the screening space tidy, and more. 

He told me he began working at the historic business earlier this year at the start of its summer season. So far, he has most enjoyed connecting with his co-workers “in such an excellent environment” that reflects Greece’s “deep cultural love for film” and “social gathering.” To illustrate how these meaningful relationships have manifested, Zabouras shared an endearing photo with me, which features a wall at the cinema that he and his co-workers have adorned with Polaroids.

Based on my brief time spent in Greece so far, I similarly feel that few other cultural or historical institutions I have come across reflect the country’s complex quest for identity over the past 50 years as perfectly as open-air cinemas. Unlike ancient temples or monuments, which stand as frozen representations of specific periods in Greece’s history, many iconic cinemas, once powerful symbols of community and fixtures of daily life in Athens, have been forced to adapt to stay afloat.

The initiation of these phases of adaptation have typically aligned with particularly tumultuous points in the broader trajectory of Greece as a whole. Starting in the 1990’s and early 2000’s, major technological advancements, political turmoil, economic crises, and demographic changes have made it extremely difficult for these cinemas to maintain their traditional, small, family-owned business model. 

To avoid shutting down like other cinemas in the area, Cine Paris recently began operating under the guidance of Cinobo, a popular Greek streaming platform and film distributor. The building itself was also acquired by the Stelios Philanthropic Foundation, which provided extensive renovation assistance during the cinema’s four-year closure period that ended in May of last year.

With these cinemas continuing to evolve, slowly disinfecting themselves from the stains of time and moving further from their historic roots, what will Athens be left with? Where will locals go to relive some of their favorite childhood memories? And what about the tourists, who may be losing out on one of their coveted chances to experience a taste of Greek authenticity? 

As one of these tourists, I personally did not get this taste from Cine Paris. I have therefore made it my mission to better understand why exactly that is, and what Greek authenticity even means over the next few weeks.

How hard can it be?