The heat is mind-melting. Fires loom on the horizon. I think I’ve gone on holidays by mistake

I knew it was going to be hot. Of course it was going to be. It’s Greece, it’s midsummer. But this mind-melting heat? It’s like something I’ve never felt before. And the phone alerts aren’t making me feel much better.

“Europe is burning”; “Record heatwaves”; “Wildfires raging,” they warn.

In Athens, a city flanked by fire, it feels like it’s burning from within. It’s blisteringly hot. The metropolis is baking. Sleep is a struggle. Shade is your friend.

Who in their right mind decides to head out into the scorching sun as the mercury soars amid warnings to take shelter indoors?

Travel trends for the year ahead: where, when and how Irish holidaymakers are booking trips in 2024

---

In pictures: Crowds take to the beaches amid record high September temperatures

---

Greece reinforces firefighters as massive wildfire shows no sign of abating after 10 days

---

Wildfires in Greece force more evacuations as other European blazes are brought under control

---

Tourists, that’s who. Irish ones, especially.

On the long and snaking line up to the Acropolis, it’s a diverse marriage of body odours, tempers and glum facial expressions.

[ European heatwave in five graphics: Where are the hot spots? How high will temperatures go? ]

It’s early in the morning and fast approaching 40 degrees. Fresh off flights to escape the weather back home, sightseers from Ireland and beyond descend upon the ancient Greek ruins for a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

Nothing is going to stop us: not unbearable heat, dehydration or lightheadedness.

Some sensible parents, it seems, haven’t brought their small children up to the Acropolis during a heatwave.

But others have. One child yanks on his parents: “Can I have a piggyback? I’m bored! I need a wee! Are we nearly there?”

In some ways, I kind of respect it. I’m thinking the same, to be honest, but my girlfriend isn’t offering a piggyback.

On the day we visit, a trade union representing Acropolis staff decide they will strike for the hottest five hours of the day. I can’t blame them. We’re visiting during the hottest July in 50 years and various wildfires surround the city. You can only imagine what it’s like to work a few hours on top of this shadeless citadel. Any opportunity to escape the sun’s glare – even a sliver at the edge of a building – is seized on by staff and tourists alike.

I am speechless upon reaching the top of the Acropolis hill, where the famous Parthenon sits. Even in the agonising heat, the sight is jaw-dropping. I feel humbled and lost for words, although one American tourist does his best when he proclaims from the top: “This is fantastic! Wow. This is . . . awesome!”

In the line for the Acropolis, Hellenic Red Cross volunteers furiously hand out bottles of water. There’s a sense of urgency. One volunteer tells me they treated three heatstroke sufferers yesterday. It is only 11am. Temperatures are rising, while ambulances wait on standby. They’ll likely have another busy day.

In these punishing conditions, there are few bums on seats at the city’s outdoor restaurants which surround the Acropolis. Only by night does anyone dare head out again, even if it is still more than 30 degrees. My restaurant choice is dictated not by fancy menus, but whether there is air conditioning; how close you can sit to a fan; and how closely does it resemble my Mamma Mia fantasy.

The setting sun brings respite – for some. If there is any small part of your body which the factor-50 missed, you know all about it.

Walking past an open-air cinema with a view of the Parthenon, Cine Thisio, I can’t give the opportunity a miss. I join a long line of Barbie lookalikes – I have come ready in my Ken gear – and take my seat.

The views are spectacular of the brightly-lit Parthenon under the night sky, although my relentless perspiration means it is difficult to escape the feeling there is no respite from this heatwave. I can’t deal with it – I’m Just Ken, after all.

[ Scorching Europe struggles to adapt to near-record temperatures ]

I head for a few days to the nearby island of Poros. Maybe there are some cooler sea breezes to be found? Things look up when what look like low clouds or a thick sea haze appear on the horizon. Then, as evening falls, I realise they have taken on a red hue. The wildfires in nearby Corinth are obscuring views to the mainland, just 400m away. Combined with the sunset, a meal with a view takes on an apocalyptic feel. Hades would surely approve.

Siestas are the way to go. Or driving a quad and feeling the wind in your hair. During one break, I explore the hills around the forested island’s interior. Then the local fire brigade speeds past, sirens blaring. Sections of the island are being closed off due to the risk of fires. I pass the firemen later, sitting around in the shade at the edge of the forest – presumably ready to jump into action at a moment’s notice.

Never have the damp, grey skies above Dublin Airport felt so welcome. It’s good to be back. Luckily, I had the option of climbing on to a cramped Ryanair flight to escape. Others aren’t so lucky. It’s enough to make you feel thankful for the perpetual drizzle and murky gloom. Until next year, anyway.