At City Plaza, the commute to work now is thankfully far easier than my previous job. Though I wouldn't have much excuse for being late. My bedroom is only fifteen paces down the blue-carpeted corridor from the door of the classroom.

And from this classroom, on the top floor—originally one of the most plush rooms in the hotel—you can gaze over the endless white sea of concrete reaching out under a clear blue sky to the mountains. Only spoiled by a brown blanket of low-lying pollution and the incessant noise of traffic. Nonetheless, the orange city-sunsets are quite striking and not the least rare in this climate.

It wasn't the first time I helped others to learn a language. But it was the first time I taught a class with my slippers on. It was also the first time I saw a Syrian, Iranian, Afghan and an Iraqi in the same room. They told me their stories of war, of fear, and of hope. The irony: I came to teach. But in the end, I was the one taught. I have learnt far more from these people than I could ever pass on to them. We are no different, no matter how people try to argue otherwise. We feel each other's pain. We see love in each other's eyes. We even laugh at the same jokes.

"Abandoned hotel" and "squatted building" somehow invokes images of dark, filthy corridors filled with trash and rats and people with torn clothes and drugs. But it couldn't be farther from the truth. People are surprised to learn we have vacuum cleaners here.

Profound and charismatic, City Plaza, despite catering for 400 people, is somewhat a sanctuary for those within. And one of the few places in Greece where refugees are treated with the dignity and respect they so deserve. That is why this is the only hotel in Athens that is fully booked. The waiting list is months long. Longed for by a blend of nationalities stuck in squalid government camps, located miles from any civilisation in an attempt to make life for refugees separate from a Greek's. "Separate and miserable" is the policy of the government that will not be accepted when inside these walls.

That is the underlying principle behind everything City Plaza does. Accepting those sidelined by the government and treating them like humans again; integrating them into society. This very special mix of people creates a culture of it's own: when you are inside this building, you are no longer in Athens. In fact, when you are inside this building, you may begin to understand what humanity really is. In the end, you may even get a glimmer that humanity doesn't have any country, any nation nor any border. In the end, you will realise that humanity is a very varied thing indeed. And you will come to accept that despite the variety, we humans are—unequivocally—all the same.