Dinner and a Greek Job

Last night Tony, Sam and I took our 28 year old, doctorate holding history professor out for a beer or two. English and an archeologist, Robert Pitt has been our favorite, most captivating, and most interesting teacher. We were able to talk about digging and history and all the other things archeologists have to deal with. Even leather hats, whips and battles with Nazi enthused treasure seekers... wait... Furthermore, we learnt that archeology is, at least that performed by the British, a drinking sport (not to hard to believe, bloody brits are pissed most of the time anyways). Whether it is cliché or not that a very well educated British man loves Monty Python or not, Robert likes the Pythons. Seven or eight of the guys set up a movie night at his place; pizza, drinks, and obtuse British comedy with the assistant director of the British School of Archeology, sounds pretty cool huh? Sam and I show up at the gates of a large compound, Robert standing out front with his goofy smile. The British compound has been in Athens for well over a century and at one time held a supreme view of the Attic valley. It is an oasis of vegetation in the middle of a heavily residential area of Athens. A massive hospital (yes, socialist) blocks the view from his balcony now. Regardless, because of the diplomatic arrangements between the British and the Greeks, the Archeology compound is technically British soil; like an embassy is. So, without intending, I have now stepped foot on the ground of Great Britain, alright! Robert took a year off between college and grad school in which he took an organ apprenticeship in Liverpool. He played every day on the massive pipes there. In his rather comfortable apartment, he has a Steinway grand piano. After some prompting he played a couple pieces for us. My favorite, a fugue by Bach, was amazing; his fingers moving like ten frantic, cracked out mice scurrying up and down the ivory keyboard. Sam had brought out his guitar and so we encored his professional performance with our amateur attempts. But, I learnt that gin and tonic plus standing up equals my best harmonica playing... Recently, I have spent a couple free afternoons, between class and dinner, in the saloon with Andreas. I have become his assistant and I help with highlighting and cleaning up and mostly PR by saying hello to people passing by and meeting all the customers. I have a job now in Athens. HA. I am leaving now for the Acropolis. I was unable to go with my class since our trip was the day after my ankle injury. But I can not not go. God bless the double negative. So, I am going... And tomorrow evening I board a plane for Roma and I will need to say good bye to Athens...

Home in Athens

Class has been interesting while here in Greece. It is nothing like what we have back at St. John’s and that has made work more difficult or at least routine more difficult. But the work is not challenging and with the exception of our Byzantine liturgical tradition (which is quite tedious) they are mostly quite enjoyable. I have learnt more about ancient Greek art then I thought possible and I will gladly add this information to my arsenal of pretentiousness. History is split between in class and on site adventures. Our last class was spent at the ancient agora. This central marketplace was used for many centuries as the hub for commerce, politics and many aspects of Athenian social life. In the same complex we also saw the Hephastion, or the Temple of Hephaistos. This is a magnificently well persevered temple. On the walk back from the Agora, I was quickly crossing a street with my classmates—I say quickly because of the nature of pedestrian travel in this city, stop signs and yield signs and right of way and turn signals are foreign concepts here; it can be treacherous--when I hear a horn honk at me and my name yelled. I turn around quite confused about this and see Amelia, one of my new friends via Andreas, smiling and waving at me from her car. This seems like an innocuous incident in of itself, but when put in the proper context it is quite astonishing. I am walking down a busy Athenian street, having only been in this city for 5 weeks, and a woman I have met many times feels friendly enough towards me to stop, honk and wave hello. Whatever aspirations I had about meeting locals and assimilating as best I could into the Greek culture have been as near to fully realized as possible. Andreas owns the hair saloon across the street and lives in one of the apartments above. Once a week, even though he is 35, his mother comes to his home and cleans things and cooks him a couple dishes of Authentic Greek Cuisine. I have been the second-hand benefactor of the Greek tradition of mother’s babying their children far into adulthood. The food has been delicious and it is a great feeling being the recipient of real Greek hospitality.

In the Mean Time

I have spent a lot of time during my stay in Greece under the wing, so to speak, of Andreas. I have had the opportunity to meet a very worldly and educated crowd. One evening I met a 52 year old Greek stage actor who also works as a photo journalist around the world; his name, Aristotle. Athens has a vibrant night life, and with Andreas I have been able to explore the true side of it; much better than going to the English speaking bars that my classmates are so fond of. One of Andreas’ close friends owns a hip club in the central district called Gazi. Go to Gazi at 2300 and you will be sadly disappointed, the night life does not begin until 1 or later. Knowing the right people has its perks and I have been treated like a VIP at Letom (motel backwards; clever I suppose). If you do not like electronic or techno house dance music, Letom is probably not for you. I have however; found that dancing can be alright. I am also going to tack onto this post my experience at Olympia. Olympia, as I am sure all of you already know, is the original site of the Olympic Games. Running for over 14 centuries, the Olympic Games were the most prestigious games in Greece. The Temple of Zeus, a wonder of the world is partially preserved there still; although his statue has long since been looted. Unfortunately for me, I was hobbling around on my sexy blue crutches and the many miles that we needed to walk was a strenuous experience. On the way to Olympia we stopped first at the ancient city of Corinth, and then visited the even older city of Mycenae. After a certain point, the piles of rocks begin to look very similar and the charm of antiquity is lost. In the museums, the idealized sculptures of victors, and gods, and heroic Greeks initially seemed beautiful and amazing in the detailed work and artistic skill. Just as they too begin looking drab and unrealistic, our class begins studying the Hellenistic period. Again my eyes joyfully dance as we look at art that tries to capture more then the physical rhythm of a person, rather they hope to show the internal movements and ethos of their subject. This is my favorite, the Dying Gaul.

Crete Pt. 2

Well, I wanted to write a post about Crete part deux. Unfortunately there was just not very much that was exciting during the second half of the trip. Xania, the second city we stayed in was actually much more beautiful and scenic then Iraklion. Walking along the sea front we had plenty to look at with the hundreds of bustling tourists sitting in restaurant street cafes. We walked along the sea wall and to the Venetian lighthouse. Along the way we would stop and peer into the surprisingly clear water of the harbor at the small sea life we could see. Tony and his keen eye spotted an octopus. His observation was overheard by a local man and quickly a fishing lure was dangling within reach of the slimy critter. In seconds the octopus was on the ground and the old man had slammed its body into the ground trying to kill it. I think he ate well that night.

The Samaria Gorge is a high point of any trip to Crete and even Greece. I want to tell you about the vegetation and natural beauty of walking through a narrow gorge for 10 miles that finally opens to a view of the Meditterannean. I can not though. Posiedon and Zeus transpired against us as storms and lightning closed the Gorge. In a nutshell, that was Crete part two. But, some more pictures are in order!

Crete Pt. One (Ferry and Iraklion)

Thursday night classes finished around 6. We hurry to the apartment and quickly pack our bags for the upcoming trip to Crete. Sam and I stop by Andreas' apartment on our way to the metro and have ourselves a Greek dinner, boiled greens with chicken and spanicopida (spinach and cheese pie). As the sun sets through the trees of the National Park we hurry to catch the train out to the Port of Piraeus where our ferry, the Ariadne, waited. Arriving for the first time in Piraeus, it is obvious to me by the smell and sight that Piraeus is a port town, an ancient one at that. With little than an hour till we leave, Sam and I could not help meandering through the streets in search of the cheap Greek wine that has brought us so much joy. Equipped now with wine and a dozen boiled eggs from home, we boarded the ferry.

The ferry ride was fun. Saving 55 Euros we opted out of cabins. We slept on the deck curled up in our blankets as the ink black meditteranean night passed swiftly over our heads.

Crete was fun. Knossos, the cite of the ancient Minoan civilization was amazing. We arrived at 6 in the morning in Iraklion, and choose to walk the 5 plus kilometers to Knossos. Along the way we picked up some four legged friends. In most cities in Greece, stray dogs are abound. They seem clean, and seeing as our new canine friends were willing to accompany us on the duration of our walk, we were happy to have the local escort. Knossos was old; like really, really old, man. To try and put this into perspective: the Minoans were as ancient to Aristotle as Aristotle is to us. (M:A::A:? if you said, U for us, that is correct.)

In Iraklion, we were able to see a medieval Venetian fortress and the many museums full of broken Minoan pottery, very interesting... The fortress was quite exhilerating, though. The view from the top was spectacular.

I was reading a book by a Greek author at the time, "The Emptiness Beyond." This was a Cretan Cathcher in the Rye. As we took the train from Iraklion to Xania, I was astounded as the narrative in the story took the author along the exact same route.

(short side note: The author is clearly a very sexual being based on the novel. Andreas, the hairdresser, is friends with

a woman named VIcki, who dated the author for five

years and attests to the truth of this...)

Our first night in Crete concluded with a gyro pita

and a beer. Fantastic!

That is me with a Minoan pillar. I title it, Mikhalis and the Minoan Pillar. --------------------------->

Olympia and Clumsiness

The sun is setting over a small hill outside my hotel room window. My friends, Tony and Sam are resting before dinner. It has been a long day touring the ancient site and then the museum here at Olympia. The balcony door is open and I can hear the dogs barking in the distance. The vineyard below me is bathed in a golden sheen from the setting sun; but now has fallen into shadows as the sun falls further behind the tree lined ridge. The terracotta roofs of this small Greek village are dotted with solar panels. The final rays of the rapidly setting sun fall on a small terraced roof at the foot of the hill past the vineyard. From here I can see three men and a little girl sitting at a table while two other women and a young boy move about with food and drink in their hands. It seems that they are laughing as they eat their evening meal, but all I can hear through my open window are the faint sounds of Greek music wafting through the air. As the sky grows ever darker, the lights on the small hill, looking like they’ve been strung along clothe drying lines, are switched on. Wednesday afternoon, following our art class, my friends and I made our way to the concrete field of gladiatorial combat. The sun was obscured partly by clouds and there hung a stifling moisture in the air. Sticky with sweat and the humidity of the day, we slid up and down the arena with effortless movements of our legs. The rubber ball was wrested from hands and swiped from the air as contenders fought vigorously to sneak that coveted orb into the high metal rim. The game itself representing the exertion we all make in the labor of life; worthy competitors made equal on the playing field of existence, fighting with all their might to posses the ball of truth, but its worth is nothing without the subtle touch of wisdom necessary to shoot it accurately into the receptive mouth of happiness. (If you got lost in that analogy, go back try it again. Still no luck, haha, well me too. Some people think that obtuse analogies are a sign of good writing; too bad they aren’t reading my blog). Short end to the story, when you are worried about the deeper metaphors of life being played out in a basketball game, it is easy to trip over your own feet. The Greek hospital was quite an adventure in of itself, but fortunately my ankle was not broken. I will be hobbling on crutches while I recuperate from a high ankle sprain. I have a nice pair of blue crutches with red reflectors, very sexy. A comedy for all those fortunate enough to witness my blonde and bearded head bobbing up and down while I walk on three legs.