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.