“Hey there! We’ll play here in a bit! Come join us!”
Monday evening. We arrived earlier that day. A tad late for a coffee. Besides, we already downed double briki coffees before checking into the apartment. Too early for a Mediterranean dinner. Baffled by the run-down surroundings, we opted for a “vólta”. Roaming the vicinity aimlessly as Greeks do. After spending a few minutes on the sex-shop-lined avenue and then diving into one of the side alleys with significantly nicer venues, the cheeky invite felt like a voice from above. Yes, we happened to be in the right place at the right time to be invited to the best bar in Athens. The Bar. The one that became our basecamp. The one I could imagine becoming a regular at. Τα Κανάρια.
A few days later, I learned this place doesn’t just look vintage, it’s actually almost a century old. A time capsule of old Athens, a place where locals gather for impromptu concerts like the one we witnessed on our first Greek night. A brilliant blend of Greek folk songs in a modern arrangement. Familiar enough for everyone to sing along, appealing to youngsters and greybeards alike. It was the kind of music to dance to, and everyone was more than expected to dance. Even the owner took a minute to hop on the bench and dance along while serving mezes and refilling glasses. People kept joining the band ad hoc, whenever they felt like singing on the mic or playing along on whatever instrument they had at their disposal. 
We stayed until closing time. What a first night in Athens!
Two days later, all places downtown looked way too touristy. Lacked that sparkle we travelers seek. And The Canaries, as the name means, lured us back to our favorite bar stools once again. A tranquil night for a change, just suited to chitchat with the bartender and some other folks. Sampling wines other than Agiorgitiko that paired great with the music. Nibbling on various mezes. Having a blast.
Third time was the charm. Our plans for the night tumbled like Sisyphus’ boulder although we had several backups. We found ourselves stuck in the neighboring bar, run by four communist fellows as we learned at our place later. It was a neat bar too, no doubt about that. One of the four who waited on us that night was a great character. Zorba of Athens. But then, deus ex machina, the bartender we befriended the night before appeared to save the day. And we instantly knew that whatever we did, our boulder would safely land in The Canaries.
No regrets! Another great night in the best bar in Athens. Mingling with locals is always fun, although the ones sitting at the bar here might be from Venezuela, or Zimbabwean Brits. Time flew past like the Erinyes tracking down Orestes; and suddenly, we hit another closing time. Not having a Hive sticker on us,
For now, that is. I am sure we’ll be back if we ever make it to Athens again. Off season, of course. I can’t even imagine any of our favorite dives in July.