I love Athens. I spend a lot of time here. I’ve got to know its streets and buildings and parks and squares. But I don’t live here and so I don’t have the same preconceptions of places like many Athenians do.  If somewhere appeals to me, I’ll go. I see things fresh and without judgement. Come the end of the night, I may find myself drinking a beer on the streets of Exarhia marvelling at graffiti, sipping raki with leftist friends or playing with kittens in artists’ studios… But many a time I will also end up on shiny dance floors covered in carnations, poolside bars drowned in moonlight, secret hideouts or backstage get togethers. And I love them, for what they mean to me.. Whether it be an amazing cocktail or inspiring company.. Or a dj that always manages to make you forget your worries. But at some point, and often much to my disappointment, I always discover that these places symbolise something totally different to everyone else.
 
To many who will be heading to them on Valentine’s night they are the “in” places, the places to be seen, the places to encounter football managers, music managers, teenage heart throbs, actors in the latest soap opera to air on tv. They are places to flirt, catch someone’s eye, find someone to keep your bed warm.. even if it’s just for a few hours.
 
And suddenly my perception of these places changes. They mean something different. They are exclusive, expensive and most of all vacant despite their popularity. They are unrepresentative of the whole and despite the many smiles on show, are tinged with sadness. And I think twice about going back.
 
In such a place, while filming for our documentary “Love in the Time of Crisis”, I met Lilly. Who, every night, navigates through the cigarette smoke to instruct waiters, guide guests to tables and leave lipstick marks on people’s cheeks. Her job is to look stunning, to smile and make sure people are not left waiting more than ten minutes for their champagne and whiskey on the rocks. And she blends in. Camouflaged amongst the platform heels, short skirts, credit cards and eyes that promise one night only of no sleep and pure pleasure. And she appeared to be one of them.
 
But, to my surprise after taking some time to speak to her, i discovered she wasn’t at all. In fact, in all this showiness, extravagance, and bravado designed to create the illusion that all is ok in a country falling apart at more than just its seams, Lilly suddenly stood out as the only true thing in it.
 
“What you see around you is not real love. Men and women are afraid of love now.” She told me. “Men think it means drinks at 10 euros a pop.. Red roses at the door.. and a weekend away to the islands. No one in the crisis has the money for this anymore. They are scared of complications, commitments, added stress. So they steer away from love. And their relationships have become meaningless ones. That is what you see here. They are superficial and shallow. Here today and gone tomorrow.. but perhaps at least the sex will be good right??”
 
And yet at that point, when she revealed to me what sounded like the most depressing situation for single people to be in, on Valentine’s Day.. Year 2014, she smiled and explained how she sees things differently.
 
“Thing is.. if you realise that once you clear away the rolex watches and diamond rings and expensive holidays.. you are left with the truth, you hold something very real in the palm of your hands. Something genuine and I feel it. I live it.”
 
She wasn’t at all how I had expected her to be. And it gave me hope.
Because, stood amidst all that fakeness, what Lilly was really describing was a new generation of Greeks. A new Greece. And how those who still cling to the old one, those who insist on sweating their guts out 24/7 to keep their pricey bachelor pads, designer clothing and flash cars, will soon realise they have no one they truly love to enjoy it with.
 
Because the old Greece.. the showy, shiny, ‘look at my Mercedes Benz’ Greece isn’t coming back.. no matter how many Porsches the bouzoukia club managers hire this Valentine’s weekend  to be parked outside the club for show.
 
“You just have to have faith”, Lilly said.
 
I wish all people here could trust in a better future, in a more genuine, honest, less material obsessed country, like Lilly. I wish I could. But Greece gets to you. And when relief from the harshness of poverty and struggles of life comes in the form of a half eaten sandwich in a bin on your street, people tend to give up on having faith in a better tomorrow. They give up on their faith in real Love.
 
And sometimes, the glitz and the glamour left over from the decades of opulence and lies are all people choose to cling on to.. For their bright lights do not shine on any sadness.
 
But then you meet someone like Lilly.. Who in the face of all this pretence.. Who, despite an inability in others to understand and adapt to the fact that the old Greece just isn’t coming back.. Who in her costume jewelry, pretty outfit and full time job tells you you have to believe in a better tomorrow, because a new Greece is waiting around the corner… It is hard not to have faith.
 
“I’m in love.” She admitted. “And it’s a love I’ve never felt before. It is raw, I can’t really explain it.”
 
I suppose it is like the relationship therapist we interviewed for the documentary told us. Love in the time of crisis cannot really be explained… or defined just yet. It is ongoing. The crisis is but a chance for us to learn HOW to love…
 
And I suggest this February 14th… We all get learning.