From Athens to Atlantis

Athens, ancient city... seat of the great idea of Democracy... land of Pericles and his great Parthenon on the Acropolis....

 The area was better than I imagined it. Swelegant would be the word. It’s clear much has been invested into this site and it is impressive. We arrived Easter week-end, so entry was free. Due to a bad club sandwich in a gorgeous terrace restaurant which looked out onto the Acropolis, husband spent the entire Athens week-end in bed. I was, however, perfectly fine and explored it all....solo. Walking around the Plaka area is a joy. Lined with tavernas, gift shops and asundry trade, it is a veritable labyrinth of delight. The shopkeepers are multilingual, welcoming and warm. There is nothing jaded about their approach. With their country’s economy in such dire straits, maybe a real effort is being made. Whatever the reason, I felt quite safe and happy walking around on my own, looking and shopping, especially in the evening.  Lamb was being roasted on spits on Easter Saturday in readiness for the Easter Sunday feast. There was a real sense of occasion and celebration in the air. Late on Saturday night, I ventured out, being told, there would be the Greek Orthodox midnight mass going on in all churches. After having a simple alfresco dinner, I ventured into a church. There was a small crowd, which soon grew. Everyone came in with tall slim candles which could be purchased from Bangladeshi street sellers all over the area. Leading up to midnight, there was a lot of preamble getting dressed by the priests, readings from a side lectern by a lay person, chanting....all fascinating to watch. Some people were dressed up, some were not. It was a chilly evening and older people had winter coats on. Come to think of it, most people had coats on as I shivered in a denim jacket! Suddenly, a priest in red robes lit candles on what looked like a three pronged trident.  The single flame for the others originates from the church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem where it’s collected by the Orthodox Christians in quite a fanfare of ceremony. I had seen the scenes on television earlier and was rather taken with this ancient ritual. There was much shuffling around by the congregation when the priest came to the head of the aisle. Suddenly, the people swarmed to light their own candles from these flames. There was then a procession by the priests, followed by some of the congregation out onto the courtyard of the church. The huge doors of the church were then closed behind them. A young couple seated next to me asked me something. I told the man I spoke no Greek. He told me no problem and gave me his candle. I thought to myself what a lovely gesture.  We could hear readings happening outside before what sounded like fireworks started going off. Every one inside hugged and kissed each other. The young couple shook my hands and wished me Happy Easter. Moments later, there was a raised voice from outside, a reply from the lay reader and then theatrically, the huge wooden church doors were flung open with an accompanying rush of air and the priests re-entered! I had never seen anything like it in the Catholic Church! The lay reader beetled up the aisle, swinging the chandeliers with a hooked rod as the priests made their way back to the altar. It all looked quite spectacular, even in a small church. Shortly after, most people started leaving. Outside, folk seem to be sitting down for their midnight Easter feast at beautifully laid out tavernas all over Plaka. As I walked back, nursing the flame of my candle, meeting others doing the same, it was easy to feel a new beginning had truly started.

The Acropolis

I have always believed no amount of prior knowledge of a place can prepare you for the visual spectacle of the experience. The Acropolis is such a place. It’s astonishing any of it has survived given its long history of being violated in one way or another. Conquering nations have not respected it, changes in belief systems have not preserved it, Elgin removed the best parts and yet, it has survived to enthral still. At spring time with abundant orange blooms perfuming the air and bright spring flowers lining its paths, a visit to the Parthenon on the Acropolis is something to experience. It’s humbling to know, at its height of beauty and wholeness, Plato, Aristotle and Socrates amongst many others led lives and wrote in its shadow. I’m not sure I would have loved the gaudily painted original and certainly as a woman in Classical Athens, I might even have hated it as a symbol of an unjust patriarchal system. Ideals of democracy were not extended to the female of the species! However, as a 21 century woman, I did admire its grandeur as to me it seemed to me like a fine ole dame who had seen life in all its ecstasy and agony! The new Acropolis Museum is an architectural wonder. Natural light floods the structure as it’s designed to be walked around 360 degrees. Huge glass windows reflect the Acropolis. The artefacts inside each tell a story of being made and destroyed. I especially enjoyed the cafe with its huge terrace. Wonderful place to reflect and enjoy a hot sweet drink!

We left Athens with husband recovered and thoughts of living and working there tempting us! I particularly loved the cockerel-like strutting Presidential Guards with their pompom shoes. Those handsome, nubile young men were utterly mesmerising and amusing! I did giggle with delight watching them! But most of all, it was the scent of orange blossom all over the old city which I will always associate with my first visit to Athens.

Next..Santorini...Ancient Thera....

For those of you who may not be yet aware, I’m an ancient history addict! There, I have finally and proudly admitted it. There is a Classics bodlet in me desperate to get out! I wish I could say I had any knowledge of any Greek or Latin, but I do not. I have a passable knowledge of Greek mythology and Greek tragedy from my Drama Studies, but really nothing more than a passion and a fascination for ancient civilisations. They were after all ‘us’ ..’then’.  Bethany Hughes has been a great influence in helping me nurse my penchant for such  bygones places and people. If I’m honest, I want her life and knowledge without the children or even husband! I’ve never had a desire for the former and I already have the latter...So, coming to Santorini, the most southerly of the Cycladic Islands, has been a long harboured wish. Archaeology and geology has established that ancient Thera, part of the great Bronze Age Minoan Civilisation suffered a cataclysmic volcanic eruption, most of it to be swallowed by the sea. They were a prosperous sea faring island, a central trading point between  Asia Minor, the Eastern Mediterranean and North Africa. The frescoes discovered at Akrotiri there have been astonishing in content and style; fluid and naturalistic compared to the formulaic necropolis painting of the Egyptians....

Imerovigli, not far from Fira, the main town on the island was where we had booked our hotel. We got it last minute so knew very little about it. Arriving at the island, only about half an hour plane ride from Athens, we shared a taxi with a couple from an unknown European country as we could not decipher their accents. It seems to be the practise from the airport, that unless you had booked a transfer, you would just share with someone else who was going your way! We got dropped off at the top of a set of steep steps. I made my way down to reception and was nearly blinded by the light bouncing off the white walls. We had lucked out as the phrase goes! The hotel was a set of white washed rooms, many built into the rocks so were like caves. The views were breathtaking looking out over the deep blue sea of the Caldera. This fact amazed me. I was looking out at the sea filled crater of the Volcano which had destroyed Thera. Our room was a few floors below the reception and we indeed had a cave apartment. Our terrace had stunning views and breakfast would be brought to the room no earlier than 8.30am! Perfect! So began my love affair with this island....daily we walked into Fira during the day along the coastal road. The volcanic rocks were abundant and many walls were made up of these black porous stones. The island was also abundant with spring flowers. However, there were few trees and they were squat. Clearly, things got windy here! Most the town, nay most of the island, is deserted between October and April. I could imagine it being quite blustery. Santorini  is known for its wine, sundried tomatoes and fava beans but I got the impression most the food during the tourist season got brought in. The north of the island is quite flat and so cultivation takes place there and that is where the beaches are found. It’s not an island for beach life which suited me fine! It was too cold to venture to the ‘black beach’ with its black volcanic sand and there is also the ‘red beach’ due to the minerals in the earth. I enjoyed wondering around the narrow cobbled streets, often mistaken in shops as being Greek! I took numerous photos as the Cycladic architecture of white buildings and cobalt blue domes just enchanted me. Santorini is the most photogenic place I have ever been to. There seemed to be no bad view down to the Caldera!

One day we took a taxi to Oia. It is the second town on the island and clings to the rocks in the same way as Fira.  It did however have a more refined air and there were certainly more arts and crafts shops than tourist tat! Again, every nook and cranny had copious charm and appeal. We lingered in a cafe, me diving into huge bowl of thick creamy Greek yoghurt topped with golden honey. It was served in a large glass bowl and looked like Ambrosia for the gods...

On our last day, we took a catamaran sailing trip from the north side to the two islands in the centre of the crater. A couple from the same hotel came with us and there were to be only two couples. We were told there would maybe be five. Clearly, we were early enough in the season not to have a crowd. I’m not a natural sailor so the less suited me fine!

Patty and Phillip were a lovely grown up pair. They were currently living in Warsaw. She an American and he a New Zealander.  They were like minded well travelled folk and easy going. They were fascinated we had lived through the Egyptian revolution and we were happy to share our experiences. It was interesting to hear of the Islamophobia of her relatives in the US during those days, especially images of the faithful praying in Tahrir Square.

For the most part the sailing was enjoyable. Captain Ted, a cross between the Sopranos and Pirates of the Caribbean was very entertaining. A burly bearded fellow, he was brought up in New Jersey of Greek parentage and was now on the island with an Australian wife, also of Greek parentage. He ran two catamarans and owned a sushi restaurant in Fira. He had two able seamen to assist him; Chris, a gorgeous fair haired, willowy Australian with jade green eyes and another young man whose name escapes me! That one did the rigging and the cooking! It was quite an experience to see the sails going up and feeling the lunges in the water! Poseidon certainly had a bout of indigestion that morning!  Fortunately, we moored in mill pond like conditions, and enjoyed a feast of barbecued huge prawns, Mediterranean pasta and Greek salad with as much wine as we wanted! We could have taken a dip in the hot spring, but all of us declined given the chilly conditions! Also none of us had taken our costumes with us! Even if I had done, I would have had to frolic with the life jacket as I’m a natural sinker!

On the morning of departure, I went out onto our terrace to take in the view. It was magical. The sun had just risen and the sky was bathed in rose light. The sea shimmered sliver and the air smelt fresh and clear. I could not remember the last time I had smelt such clear air. The sky was strewn with light clouds which I knew would evaporate as the day grew. I felt almost heartbroken to leave... I looked across at Oia, its small white buildings covering the rocks like delicate lace. On the other side of my vision, Fira was still snoozing. There were no cruise liners in the Caldera that morning; these huge ships which come in laden with tourists who rush to Fira for a couple of hours and then scurry away again. I looked over to the two small islands in the centre of the Caldera, one with a dormant volcano. Over three thousand years ago, someone may well have stood on the same spot, being enchanted by a similar view, blissfully ignorant that all too soon their Thera would become a place of Legend....

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