Shipwrecked, naked and starving, he clambers onto land after 20 days at sea and sets eyes on a beautiful girl who gives him clothes, food, palatial shelter and, frankly, the will to go on.
‘Are you mortal or divine?’, a dazed Odysseus asks Princess Nausicaa, as she patches him up for the final leg of his 10-year journey home.
No wonder Four Seasons Astir Palace Hotel Athens has taken a leaf out of Homer’s book, naming the heart of its waterfront haven after the female ideal of hospitality.
For the Nafsika suites, taken from the ancient Greek spelling of her name and at the hub of this elegant yet energetic hotel, teeter on the edge of heaven.
Views over the Saronic Gulf from our expansive master bedroom and terrace are so captivating it takes a few moments to register the luxury within.
Soft carpets, leather headboards, a spa-like bathroom, the plumpest of pillows monogrammed with the initials ‘FH’.
‘Ah! This must be my bed,’ laughs my son Felix, 12, advancing on the super-king rather than the sofa bed awaiting him and his sister Evie, 17, in the adjoining room.
It’s our first family holiday without our eldest daughter Rose, 18, who has left home for university, insisting she doesn’t mind our trip as long as we send photos.
Fiona Hardcastle and her family check into one of the luxurious Nafsika suites at Four Seasons Astir Palace Hotel Athens, which has stunning views over the Saronic Gulf
The hotel, explains Fiona, has taken a leaf out of Homer’s book, The Odyssey, naming the Nafsika suites after the female ideal of hospitality, Princess Nausicaa (with the property using the ancient Greek spelling of the name)
Water treat: Fiona and her family enjoy the hotel’s ‘perfect’ olive tree-lined pool (above)
But it would take Olympian levels of magnanimity to withstand the pics of our newfound splendour and as starry-eyed emoji replies turn into teardrop ones, we realise it’s time to stop. Hubris rarely has a happy ending.
Time for dinner at Mercato, one of the hotel’s six glitzy restaurants, a buzzy Italian that brims with Greek spirit.
Like a well-oiled army, phalanxes of waiters weave around our table, each dedicated to their specific roles, which extend far beyond the delivery of food.
Felix only has to sneeze before a leather-bound box of tissues appears.
Evie, who’s recently been gripped by a cough so violent she broke a rib the day before we travel, tries and fails to stifle a bark when a smiling waiter appears with a steaming cup of lemon and honey.
We finish with a titanic tiramisu and I am fit for Hypnos, despite my husband’s protestations that, with the two-hour time difference, it’s only 8pm.
The promise of the following day at the Acropolis – shamefully, my first – is cause enough for an erstwhile Classicist to get an early night.
Fiona writes: ‘Views over the Saronic Gulf from our expansive master bedroom and terrace are so captivating it takes a few moments to register the luxury within.’ Above: An Arion Panoramic Sea View Suite
Fiona describes the rooms at Four Seasons Athens as ‘teetering on the edge of heaven’
Four Seasons Athens has a chic bar as well as six glitzy restaurants, with Fiona and her family dining at Italian Mercato and Taverna 37, which serves traditional Greek food
After Greek salad omelettes for breakfast, we’re off – a 40-minute taxi ride to the fifth century BC.
Our first point of pilgrimage is the Acropolis Museum, a dazzling, light-filled construction nestled in the southeastern slope and home to the ancient A-list.
Towering twin terracotta Nikes, softly illuminated on pedestals at the exhibition entrance, are the first spine-tingling signs of the treasures inside. Wingless now, but no less wondrous.
The sloping glass ground floor, through which you can see excavations below, is home to ceremonial wedding vases, spindles, marble dedications and masks – touching symbols of life and death.
Upstairs is even more spectacular, as you weave through elevated marble figures as if walking through a crowd.
Suddenly, I’m face to face with my favourites: Athena Nike tying her sandal, a beautiful bronze oil lamp in the shape of an ancient vessel called a trireme and five imposing Caryatids (the sixth is in the British Museum).
Last stop the top and the friezes of the Parthenon gallery, gloriously bathed in sunlight and displayed against the majestic backdrop of their former home.
Creamy originals mingle with bright white replicas and, heresy it may be, but I can’t help wonder if the noble horse head of Selene might be happier here.
The contours of the Peloponnese and the twinkling lights of luxury yachts bobbing in the sea at night held Fiona and her family spellbound
The Four Seasons has an indoor pool looking out onto the sea – a great option for a rare bad-weather day
Four Seasons Astir Palace is an ‘elegant yet energetic hotel’, remarks Fiona
Fiona and her brood visit the Acropolis Museum, ‘a dazzling, light-filled construction nestled in the southeastern slope and home to the ancient A-list’
But that’s always been the problem, says Dimitrios, our charismatic guide who meets us afterwards and shepherds us up to the Parthenon itself, entertaining and informing with myth, legend and a potted history of invasions from Romans, Franks, Ottomans, Venetians and Nazis.
The western end is framed with scaffolding – reconstruction, he says, will take far longer than the original build ever did – but the awe is unmistakable.
Everyone wants this piece of Greece.
Back to the Four Seasons and the piece of Greece we’re most keen on claiming is a table at Taverna 37, in its bougainvillaea-clad, waterside setting.
We’re soon revived by a meze of local delicacies, tangy tzatziki, crumbly feta cheese and chilli followed by succulent slow-cooked lamb for the meat eaters and stifado cauliflower for the vegetarians.
The prospect of a final lazy day by the perfect olive tree-lined pool awaits.
The wind is up but the Ouzo soon warms and as we retire to our private terrace, mesmerised by the distant darkening contours of the Peloponnese and the twinkling lights of luxury yachts bobbing below, a tantalising idea takes form.
Anyone fancy our own Odyssey – albeit one where we don’t get washed up?
