 Beth ethyn eich ddweud yw'r athyn sydd yn y llyfrgynigol, yn y llyfrgynigol ar y Llyfrgell Ysgrifennu, ac rwy'n ymweld yn y pethau o'r ddweud o'r ddechrau o'r ddisplasio, ac yn ymweld yn y ffwrdd. Rwy'n ei ddim yn y cyfnod, rwy'n ei ddweud o'r ddweud o'r ddweud o'r ddechrau a'r ddweud o'r ddweud o'r ddweud o'r ddweud. Felly, rwy'n ei angen yn y byw syddfa. Cymru mae arddangos ar oysters, rhaginogi—rachlyni, On�을 iddy goesfu? Felly mae weithgr recreational factory Slowrow septas, a rydyn ni wedi fungr y gynhyrnu am ddechrau o'n myth deser i'r ysgrifennu cerdd depiction. Just at the start I or a quick note to let you know why use the term refugee throughout the paper. Essentially because I am I not a lawyer I'm not a border guard and frankly I don't care. I'm an archaeologist and I'm see my reclamation of the words as a very small political act, y bwysig o'r bwysig o'r cyffredin gyda'r bwysig ymwysig yn ysgafodd i'r ffordd, yn y gael y cyfrifio sydd. Mae'r bwysig ar y bwysig, felly oherwydd o'r argylcheddau yn rhan o'r llwg am y cwm yng nghymru, o'r llwg am yr cwm ynghymru, oherwydd o'r llwg, oherwydd o'r llwg am yr llwg am y cwm ynghymru, i fod yn ymdweud cysylltion wrth gwrs i ni i fewn cymryd eli mor iawn, oherwydd mae gennym ni'c ni wedi'n fwrdd menthi a'r cynnigodd yn gyfrifredig. Mae gyda'n gynnig hwnnw i'ch credu ddweudio i ffyrdd ac yn gweithio'n gyfrifredig. Felly, rhai o'r gweithio'r hefydau yr Aethau arall fel gynhyrchu. Yn 1974, fel Polytechniau froedd amdano fydd yna ymgyrch yn siaradau yr yrthai aant,cynny'r llawer o ymddy llystiad o gwynllu am Acniclismu Extreme and squatting, particularly within an inner city area called Exarchia. As Athena mentioned, there was a boy shop dadd in 2008, Alexis Gagoroclus, and this re-inspired a very well entrenched idea that's, well, idea stroke reality, sydd â'r pethau yn Athen. Mae'r ddiwylliannol yn edrychwch yn raddol i'r Goreddwyll yn yn ffrifodol. Y dgylwyn i mwyaf, mae'r ddod o'r pethau yn eistedd gyda sicrhau ac ysgolwyddiol, fel y byddai Brytyn, a'r ddweud o'r gweld i'r ffordd. Mae'r ddweud, fel ar gyfer o'r archiologi, mae'n ddweud o'r ffordd o'r rhan o'r ffordd o'r ysgolwyddiol i'r boi, mae'n gallu'n bach o'r polis i'r 15 o 16 o boi ar y 1985. Felly, mae'n holl bwysig o polis i'r rhan o'r ffordd o'r polis i'r rhan o'r ysgolwyddiol. In 2008, the so-called Greek debt crisis caused even bigger inequalities and produced essentially a small-scale humanitarian crisis within Greece. Thousands of Greece and also recent migrants from places like Albania and the first wave of Afghans were made unemployed and hungry and homeless. By 2015, there were more than 700 refugees, predominantly, but also generally poor people, sleeping in very squalid conditions around the parks, around Athens, particularly in Victoria. The big park, the big Olympic park, I can't remember the name of it. The big park. So there's tons of people sleeping, and when I was there in 2017, it was very evident, incredibly worn paths and lots and lots of detritus in terms of tents, evidence of latrines, people having to survive outside. 2016, the EU-Turkey deal, which essentially the EU basically said to Turkey, okay, we'll give you some money, you keep the refugees, and we'll let some Turkish people come to the EU with papers. This caused the Macedonian border to very much harden, and many of the refugees who were coming were actually significantly cash richer than the sort of neo-poor in Greece, which caused other tensions. And this has kind of continued. There's about 60,000 refugees stuck in Greece currently, and there isn't enough food or jobs or housing. And so it doesn't do much to placate the rise of the far right. And even among very ordinarily liberal educated people, there's a great sense that everyone needs housing and food, and there isn't enough to go around. So my PhD was on homelessness in Bristol and York, and I came to refugee shelter really because in England at the end of my PhD, which I finished in 2014, I was starting within my homeless networks to meet refugees. And so it was a natural progression for me in terms of being displaced, being another form of homelessness. So I, six months pregnant with a two-year-old in tow, decided to go and spend some time squats in Athens, as you do. So this is a vague map, not terribly good, not terribly big map that I made of some of the sites that I visited. As I said, I was six months pregnant, which actually I would recommend as an ethnographic tactic. It's good. You get to meet people. Particularly within the refugee community, I found that I was able to speak with women and children in a way that other researchers weren't, because whether or not you speak Pashto or Farsi or Greek, you can understand, and it's a love letter. My methodology was very simple. I went to squats, spoke to people, they would tell me other places to go, and my interest was really to try and document the alternative places that refugees were being housed. You couldn't throw a rock without hitting a researcher looking at camps or the more traditional large-scale humanitarian places. But when I was there, more than 2,000 men, women and children were living in squats of varying degrees of conditions. I should also make clear at this point that I always work with people, so I'm not studying the people. I'm looking at places and things with people. It's very collaborative. In a way, in documenting these sites of alternative or philanthropic voluntary activist sites, I see what I do as a type of activist cultural heritage. So, very briefly, just to talk you through some of the squats. From left to right, starting at the top, the hospital squat was evicted the night after I arrived in Athens. I happened to be staying on the same street. It's just off Arcanon, which is one of the main streets coming out of the city centre. I heard it, I heard the eviction before my phone, I was on a phone chain, but I heard the eviction happening and there were lights, lots of police, and 200 men, women and children were made homeless at four o'clock in the morning. The irony of this is that the building is owned by the International Cross, the International Red Cross. Quarter, which is not actually a squat as a cooperative, which sadly they haven't stopped working, but they've had to leave the building they were in. They offered all manner of legal, medical, educational, even fully licensed dental surgery to refugees. There was no accommodation, but they were open from 8 till 10 every day, and lots of families travelled in from places like Galenico, which is a big camp on the edge of Athens, to spend their days there. At the time I was there, Quarter was providing 800 meals a day for less than a third of the price of meals served at the camps. This is paid for by the UNHCR and people like that. One Iranian man said to me, before I came to Quarter, I thought all Europeans just eat soup and watery pasta. Then he came to Quarter and they was making wraps and traditional Greek salad and he said this is fantastic, so he volunteered there by way of contributing. The Soho Hotel, which is the bottom left, was run by NGO Solidarity now. The hotel was commissioned by the United Nations High Commission for Refugees, the UNHCR. The NGO was paid 3,000 euros per day to house and feed 200 people. It's pretty hard to see where that money is going. I have to confess. Emonia Square, I add because it's a really important node in a kind of networked landscape of refugee, temporary refugee shelter. People met there and every day you see literally hundreds of predominantly men with suitcases, mobile phones, trying to make contacts, trying to find the next step on their journey, whether that was somewhere to stay the night or to be trafficked. City Plaza is a squat run by activists housing 400 people. It's a sort of golden ticket place within the community I was working with. Everyone wanted to be in City Plaza because it was a really nice place. It was a purpose-built hotel that was taken over so families have a room and a bathroom. It's not solubrious but they have their own space. There's a real sense of we live together, we fight together, and that people were working together. Refugees and volunteers, there was no distinction. Everyone worked in the kitchens, cleaned, maintained the place, and organised big rallies and demonstrations and that type of thing. Also for me, as a woman, there was some really interesting, very important cultural transformation work going on there because you had men who came from cultures where traditionally they'd never had to lift a finger in the house, never cleaned a loo, never chopped a vegetable, and they had to learn these skills. That was a good introduction to Europe and the way that traditionally we have moved on from women doing all of the domestic chores. As I like to remind my husband. So then there are these other places that aren't really located in, like all types of homelessness. It's quite, as an archaeologist, there's all sorts of materiality, but the mapping and documenting is difficult to do what Tino was doing because the sites are transient and ephemeral, and particularly with homelessness and refugees, this is even more the case because you get moved on for all sorts of political reasons. But just quickly, the Human Kitchen was an incredible project run by Kosta, who is usually Greek, who believes that people should eat together. So it started as just people volunteering, donating small packets of pasta or some tomatoes or some eggs, and then it's grown to use this enormous pot. And as an archaeologist, I was very moved to learn that the spoon he's stirring the big pot with is actually an ore that was given to him by a man who landed on the beaches in Kos, who arrived with his life jacket and his body and this ore, and he just said, thank you for feeding me. This is all I have in return. And so Kosta now uses the ore to stir the pot. There's also street shelters, which are not just refugees. As I mentioned earlier, lots of very poor people increase who live on the streets in different camps and sort of little doorways and spaces like this. Some of the refugees I spoke with preferred to live like this than enter the squats, some of which had very extreme anarchist ideology. And then there's a sort of regular sense of solidarity among demonstrations. One of the things I was very impressed by with Athens is that every day there's a demonstration. And people are able to, people do, whether or not their voice is heard is debatable, but in terms of refugees and the sense that coming from Britain, in Athens I was there for about a month and there were more visible, loud, noisy public demonstrations about we really do believe that we have to take more people into Europe than there were in Britain, which I think if I were coming from another country I would just, there's more visible support for people in Athens. And then there are these kind of momentary, transitory, very ephemeral interventions in the structure of the city that Athena mentioned earlier, which I find really interesting because as you're walking through the city there's stuff written everywhere, stuff stuck everywhere, posters everywhere with messages often of sort of love, support, hope, and this is also why I ended up leaving the city interpreting it as a landscape of reluctant support. So why reluctant? Well, even before the so-called refugee crisis, which actually Christopoul has described as a reception crisis, which I'd agree with, Athens was suffering from a fairly extreme level of unemployment and poverty. Drugs are a really big problem. There remain widespread unemployment problems, shortages of food and housing among the poorest people. So I don't suggest that naturally Athenians are more humanitarian than other Europeans, although it is true that there exists a very long-standing cultural legacy of the stranger being made welcome in Greece. So if we think of pilgrims, merchants, wealthy 19th century north Europeans on the ground tour, sunshine-seeking tourists, and then within the past 30 years more likely to have been immigrants from Albania or first-wave Afghans, and then more recently still Syrian refugees have been the recipients of Philxinia. But the sort of Greek cultural practice of being hospitable to strangers is also a way of sustaining boundaries. So as Caterina Rizaco puts it, Philxinia is a practice of sovereignty and control over the stranger. It's a one-way offer and also the means of dealing with alterity. It's an act of interest and at the same time one of power. Of course also the geography of Greece is one of the reasons why so many migrants and refugees attempt to go to Greece to get to northern and western Europe. Once the EU-Turkey deal was struck, the borders really hardened. As I said earlier, there are 60,000 people estimated. It's probably a lot more stuck now in Greece, with very little prospects of moving forward with their intended journey, but also some try to move back and that's equally difficult. So when I describe Athens as a landscape of reluctant refuge it's because people are hesitant about providing shelter and ambivalent about the options. There are also some really clear problems with some of the squabs. There are people smugglers, traffickers, drugs, prostitution. In some of them children are not safe. In some of them women are certainly not safe. But there are also some really shining examples of alternative humanitarianism, particularly at Citi Plada, Quora, or they are not a squater cooperative, and to some extent not at a 26. I do accept that some of these sort of better places have very complicated ideological positions, particularly political leaders, whether that's extreme anarchism or with Syritsa, who are no longer a marginal party but in power. To my mind, in terms of the material structure of these places as models of alternative refugee accommodation, I think there's an awful lot to be learned. The spaces and services that some of these smaller unofficial places of shelter offer to refugees represent far more humane opportunities to retain cultural, familial and personal identity. They also enable cultural transformation and transmission to take place in a more human scale, in a more peaceable and sustainable way. I think that the squabs and co-ops of Athens have an awful lot to teach in the international global humanitarian sector, which I can critique until the cows come home. Having been awarded a British Academy Fellowship, that's what I'm going to do in the next three years.