Category Archives: Enlightenment

Source Throws a Curve

Leave a reply
View toward Bay of Corinth ©2009 Charlene Nevill

View toward Bay of Corinth ©2009 Charlene Nevill

I am off to Delphi at last! Even though I hadn’t studied up for my brief stay in Athens, I had read so much about Delphi and watched so many video clips about the sanctuary, not to mention two History Channel videos on the Oracle, that I felt like I’d been there already. But wait! Maybe I had . . .

During the three-hour bus ride, I stared out the window watching for anything that might be familiar. After an hour, we were in the countryside passing fields of cotton, sorghum and olive trees. So far, nothing. But when we started climbing Mount Parnassus and I saw clumps of flowering herbs and a goat-crossing sign, I felt tears well up – a sure sign that I had bumped into something from another lifetime.

Steps to Apollonos Street ©2009 Charlene Nevill

Steps to Filellinon Street ©2009 Charlene Nevill

When we arrived in the tiny village of Delphi, it was apparent that there were no taxis. Having studied a map, I knew that my hotel was on the lowest of the tangle of streets that criss-crossed the mountain; I just didn’t know how to get there. So I set off on foot pulling my suitcase behind me. After asking three shopkeepers, I finally found one who was able to tell me that my hotel was at the opposite end of town and the only way to get there was down a series of stone steps. Another test. At least I was in better shape than when I’d arrived in Athens.

Checking in at my hotel, I was hoping for a room facing the Bay of Corinth. The woman at the desk assured me that because I was staying for five days, there was no question that I could have a room with a view.

©2009 Charlene Nevill

©2009 Charlene Nevill

When I entered my little room, sun was streaming in through French doors that led to a tiny patio with a marble-top table and a small chair. Looking down I saw a garden with a flock of chickens on one side and another garden with giant melons on the other. I took a deep breath and thanked the gods for this little piece of heaven.

Speaking of gods, I was anxious to get to the sanctuary. I wanted to walk the Sacred Way through the Agora, and past the ruins of the treasuries that once held offerings made by Greek city states to Apollo. But most of all, I wanted to visit the Temple of Apollo where a succession of Oracles in rapturous union with Apollo advised a steady stream of kings, philosophers, and ordinary citizens on everything from wars and affairs of state to personal matters over a period of 1,200 years.

On my way out, I stopped to chat with the proprietor. “You know, the site is closed,” she said. “WHAT?” I squealed. “I’ve traveled half way around the world to visit the Oracle.” “You and everyone else,” she said.

There was a map of the site on a bulletin board showing that only half the site had been closed. But of course, it was the top half where the Temple of Apollo was located. It seems there had been a rock slide ten days earlier and there were no plans to re-open that part of the site any time soon.

I hadn’t forgotten Angelika’s advice about the possible disruption of plans, and here it was – the ‘unexpected development’. Incredulous yet undaunted, I told myself, like Avis, I would just have to try harder.

Chocolate Cake for Breakfast

3 Replies

Looking back, I think the first seeds for this trip were planted when I read The Camino, Shirley MacLaine’s account of her pilgrimage along the Santiago de Compostela Camino in northern Spain. I was inspired by her encounters with entities from past lives, her visions and revelations. I told myself that I’d like to take a similar journey someday, but one with better food and more comfortable accommodations. And here I was, nine years later looking over the breakfast buffet at my hotel in Athens thinking about Shirley and the meagre meals she was offered at the refugios along her 500-mile trek.

Socrates, my seat mate on the plane from Heathrow, told me that Greeks don’t do breakfast, and it was all too apparent from the offerings before me that this was the case. The cold hard-boiled eggs, dry bread, deli-sliced processed cheese and what I assumed was ham, canned fruit cocktail, and overly-thick Greek yogurt represented a veritable feast compared to the meals Shirley encountered on her pilgrimage, yet I longed for something more.

I headed for a cafe I’d discovered the day before that claimed to have the best coffee in the city. After seating myself outside beneath the awning, a waiter approached. I remembered Socrates telling me I must try bougatsa, a phyllo pastry with a creamy custard filling sprinkled with powdered sugar and cinnamon. I ordered a latte and asked if they had this classic Greek confection, but alas, no. From our brief interchange, I knew the waiter’s understanding of English was limited, and my ability to speak Greek was nonexistent. As he waited patiently, I heard myself say, “Pain au chocolat?” Now, I was totally aware that I wasn’t in France, but I thought – well, to be honest, I wasn’t thinking – it had just poppped out of my mouth. The waiter nodded and minutes later was back at my table with a large piece of chocolate layer cake. Deciding I may as well make the best of a botched communication, I dug in. And I have to tell you, it was one of the best pieces of chocolate cake I’d ever eaten.

Acropolis Museum ©2009 Charlene Nevill

Acropolis Museum ©2009 Charlene Nevill

After devouring every last crumb, I set off for the new Acropolis Museum. When I arrived, there was a long line and when I got through security, I learned that my ticket to the Acropolis did not, in fact, grant me entrance to the museum as had been advertised. The line for tickets was equally long, and I knew that the museum was closing early that day because of the national  elections, so I decided to give it up and come back at the end of my trip.

Ruins under Acropolis MuseumBefore taking off, I examined what was visible of the ruins of an ancient  city beneath the museum discovered when construction began ten years ago. The neighborhood, inhabited from the fifth century B.C to the 12th century, included private villas, bathhouses, workshops and cisterns, and the dig uncovered a treasure trove of busts, coins, children’s toys and cooking utensils. The site which had been filled with truckloads of sand to protect it during construction won’t be totally uncovered and open to visitors until next year, but I was fascinated by what I could see through the glass walkways leading up to the museum.

Herod Atticus Odean ©2009 Charlene Nevill

Herod Atticus Odean ©2009 Charlene Nevill

It was now late morning and I had no other plans for the day, so I joined the tourists and Athenians on the walkway on the south slope of the Acropolis. I wasn’t on the lookout for more monuments, but I had to stop to admire the Odeon of Herod Atticus, a stone theatre built in 161 AD. Still in use, the Odeon is one of the main venues of the annual Athens Festival.

As I continued meandering along some of the same streets and alleys I’d walked the day before, I was thinking how strange it was for me to be moving through the city with no map and no predetermined plan. Walking more slowly, stopping to observe whatever caught my attention, listening to my instincts – it had all worked surprisingly well on my first day in Athens. But a half hour into my after-dinner walk, I realized I had wandered into unfamiliar territory and I had no idea how to find my way back to my hotel. With the crowds, the lights and the souvenir shops, I was beginning to feel like I was trapped in a Twilight-Zone carnival where all the vendors looked exactly alike. But instead of giving in to fear of being irretrievably lost, I remained calm and just kept going. And after walking in what seemed like a maze for at least an hour, I found myself back in front of the restaurant where I’d had my dinner.

The labyrinth, a maze-like structure from Greek mythology, is often thought of as a symbolic form of pilgrimage, and in modern times it’s used to quiet the mind and to promote a contemplative state. The streets of the Plaka with my hotel, The Central, at the center of the maze, had served that purpose for me with the added bonus of helping me let go of a deeply-imbedded fear. I hoped that after this journey as I made my way back out into the world, I would have a broader understanding of myself and my place in it.

 

Afternoon at the Acropolis

1 Reply
Athens Central Market ©2009 Charlene Nevill

Athens Central Market ©2009 Charlene Nevill

By the time I’d finished my lunch, the sun had come out and it was even hotter and more humid. As I continued my meandering, I passed a dilapidated building with crowds streaming in and out. I had read about Athens’ Central Market and I had a feeling this was it. Slabs of meat hung on both sides of a long arcade. I’m not squeamish about raw meat, but there was something disturbing about this display. Maybe it was the slippery wetness underfoot or maybe it was the butchers’ bloodstained aprons. Whatever the case, I told myself that if I lived in Athens and this was the only place to procure meat, I would quickly become a vegetarian.

Tower of the Winds ©2009 Charlene Nevill

Tower of the Winds ©2009 Charlene Nevill

Moving toward the Acropolis, I found myself in the “Archeological Park” – the walkway built for the 2004 Olympics that connects the city’s most important monuments and leads up to the Parthenon. I hadn’t intended to visit the ruins until the next day, but I felt the urge to press on.

Temple of the Wind Whirling Dervishes

Temple of the Wind Whirling Dervishes

Passing the Roman Agora built by Roman leaders as an extension of the Ancient Agora – Athen’s commercial and civic center where Socrates and Plato strolled and St. Paul spoke – I’m drawn to The Tower of the Winds, the only monument there that’s still standing. Built as a combination sundial and water-powered clock, the octagonal structure served as a home for whirling dervishes in the 18th century.

Along the way, a Greek Orthodox church caught my eye, and although there was nothing remarkable about its exterior, I felt compelled to go inside. As I entered the chapel, I was overwhelmed with sadness. Fighting back tears, I sat down on one of the little carved wooden chairs hoping information would come to shed light on my feelings. Gazing at the Byzantine icons and mosaics and watching supplicants walk up to and kiss portraits of saints I didn’t recognize, I had no idea where this emotion was coming from, but it was very strong. I wondered if there might be a connection between my lifetime in Delphi and another here in Athens. Or maybe this sadness wasn’t even mine.

Theater of Dionysos ©2009 Charlene Nevill

Theater of Dionysos ©2009 Charlene Nevill

Before climbing the final stretch to the top of the Acropolis, I stopped to admire the Theater of Dionysos. Dedicated to the god of wine and fertility and patron of the arts, it was built in the 4th century B.C. and restored early in the 19th century. With 64 rows of seats, the original theater accommodated up to 17,000 and hosted Athens’ City Dionysia Festival where dramatists Sophocles, Euripides and Aristophanes competed.

The Erectheion ©2009 Charlene Nevill

The Erectheion ©2009 Charlene Nevill

When I reached the top of the Acropolis, I found that the Propylaia, the 5th century entrance, and the Temple of Athena Nike had been almost entirely dismantled for restoration. The only two structures currently standing are the Parthenon and the Erechthion, the tomb of the legendary King of Athens famous for its Caryatids.

The Parthenon ©2009 Charlene Nevill

The Parthenon ©2009 Charlene Nevill

Despite its compromised condition with scaffolding encasing three sides, my first glimpse of the Parthenon took my breath away. I never imagined I’d be standing in front of this famous temple, yet there I was. The intense sun and the unrelenting wind told me I wasn’t dreaming. I walked all the way around the monument trying to grasp its enormity imagining its grandeur before its sculptures and friezes were carted away.

Feeling that I’d seen enough historical monuments for one day, I headed back down towards the Plaka. I wanted to rest and it was too early for dinner, so I stopped at a small taverna for a drink. I ordered ouzo, the famous Greek anise-flavored spirit similar to pastis and absinthe. Sitting beneath a canopy of grape vines, sipping my drink, I was hoping for a bit of an altered state, but it didn’t happen. A young couple across the steps finished their drinks and moved away pausing for a deep, passionate kiss. This, too, made me sad. I understood and appreciated the need to make this journey alone, but there were times when I longed for a companion to share the day’s experiences and this was one of them.

 

Morning in the Plaka

1 Reply
The Plaka crowds

Saturday in the Plaka ©2009 Charlene Nevill

With just five hours of sleep, I hit the streets of the Plaka. I had planned to explore this part of the city on my first day in Athens and then make my way to the Parthenon the next before heading on to Delphi on Monday. Located beneath the northern and eastern slopes of the Acropolis, the Plaka is the oldest part of Athens. I had studied several maps of the area, but finding the labyrinth of streets with names like Lysikratous and Plateia Monastirakiou overwhelming, I decided to wander and let my intuition guide me.

©2009 Charlene Nevill

©2009 Charlene Nevill

The sky was gray that first morning, it was hot and humid, and the streets were crammed with tourists. Resembling a cross between Canal Street in New York and Fisherman’s Wharf in San Francisco, the Plaka is filled with little shops and cafes, and in the midst of it all are ancient stone chapels and cathedrals. With graffiti covering storefronts, plate glass windows, lampposts, benches – in short, anything and everything with a surface – there’s a feeling of entropy and there’s a forlorn air about the shopkeepers, too, almost as if they’re waiting for the next chapter of Greek history to begin.

©2009 Charlene Nevill

©2009 Charlene Nevill

And then there are the dogs. I considered starting a list of ‘Things I Wasn’t Expecting to See in Athens and Wish I Hadn’t”, but not wanting to focus on the negative, I quickly put that project aside. I must tell you about the dogs, though, and the cats, too. The dogs are just lying about with their eyes closed. With no homes, they have no sense of purpose and little will to live. The cats seem to be doing a little better – at least they have the challenge of going after mice and rats. Thankfully, animal advocates with help from other countries in Europe and from Canada are working to develop a number of programs to alleviate this deplorable problem.

After wandering up and down dozens of streets, I came upon a modest taverna at the end of an alley. As is typical of such establishments, the menu is only a suggestion of what might be available on any given day. Settling on stuffed cabbage leaves, I’m told there aren’t any today, and I’m invited to walk up to the cafeteria-style display to see what’s being served. I select a stew of lamb, potatoes, onions and sweet peppers in a red wine sauce and return to my table to wait.

Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis once said, “You are about to have your first experience with a Greek lunch. I will kill you if you pretend to like it.” My first Greek lunch was surprisingly good, and I silently thank Matt Barrett and his Athen’s Survival Guide for encouraging his readers to seek out restaurants serving authentic Greek food.

 

The Tests Begin

1 Reply
Moon Over Athens ©2009 Charlene Nevill

Moon Over Athens ©2009 Charlene Nevill

Despite rather ominous predictions, I have returned unscathed from my journey to Delphi. As promised, there were tests. And there was an unexpected development. But I’m grateful to have had the opportunity to make the trip and I’m even more grateful to be home.

My first test was one of patience. After a ten-hour flight, I had an eight-hour layover at Heathrow. Rather than dash into London as two of my friends had suggested, I decided to get into the proper frame of mind for a pilgrimage right in the middle of Terminal 5. Feeling not unlike Tom Hanks in the movie The Terminal, I wandered up, down and around both levels several times. I ate. I read. And instead of obsessively engaging strangers in friendly chatter, I sat and calmly observed the people and the space around me and listened to my own thoughts. As daylight turned to darkness and the lights came up, the interior space that had resembled a giant gymnasium a few hours earlier took on the reverential air of a cathedral and there was a palpable hush as the travelers moved about more slowly.

The second test occurred after I arrived at my hotel in Athens. I’d had a pleasant flight from London and I’d arranged a cab to pick me up at the airport, but it was 4 a.m. and I was very tired. After checking in, I made my way to the elevator which turned out to be the size of a matchbox. I wrangled my small suitcase and my small self into the claustrophobic space and prayed as the doors slid closed barely missing my nose. So far, so good.

When I got to my room wanting nothing more than to climb out of the clothes I’d had on for what seemed like days and climb into bed, I couldn’t figure out how to turn the lights on. Just inside the door, there were the usual switches, but pressing and pushing them up and down did nothing. I parked my suitcase inside the room and headed back to the front desk. I was told to insert the room key into the slot at the top of the first switch. Back upstairs, I found the slot, slid my key in and there was light. Hallelujah! But two minutes later, the lights went out. Fumbling about in total darkness, I located the key I’d set down on the beside table and reinserted it into the slot. Lights! Two minutes later, darkness descended once again. Back at the front desk, I learned that the key needed to remain in the slot. Oh. I wondered if I might have been able to figure this out if I hadn’t been awake for over 24 hours. But no matter–I could see at last. And I had arrived at my destination without incident.

Before collapsing, I grabbed my camera and headed for the roof hoping to see the moon above the Acropolis. And there it was shining down on the Parthenon. It wasn’t a harvest moon, but it was full and it was beautiful.