The Island of Delos

17 July 2012

My week touring the Greek islands didn't feel complete without a visit to Delos, one of the small islands off Mykonos. 

Once the centre of the political world, it is now an archaeological reserve with ruins as far as the eye can see, and unfortunately, acres of dry grass that obscured various monuments, murals and carved marble remains. Progress is slowly being made in clearing away this organic matter, but given the size of the site and the state of the Greek economy, this will take a while. In the interim, one requires a good camera, a better imagination and an appreciation of the bits that are visible. 

Meteora - Monasteries in the Mountains

Our last port of call in Greece was Meteora, an area in the north, well known for its unusual honey-comb rocks and rocky pillars, and the complex of Greek Orthodox monasteries that sit perched atop them.

We'd stayed the night just out of the town Kalambaka that sits at the foot of these boulders and so were able to be overwhelmed by their size and strangeness as we slowly wound our way up towards the monasteries.
As it was the middle of winter we'd been prepared for rain and dreaded fog, things that are renown for plaguing this area, however we were blessed to wake to sunshine and blue skies.

Delphi - Sanctuary of the Oracle

The following morning we headed to the ancient sanctuary of Delphi where again, there was a museum and the archaeological site.
However before we got to anything historic we may have been distracted slightly by firstly, the view from the hotel balcony, and secondly, the cats at Delphi.

 

Olympia, birthplace of the Olympic Games

Whilst in Athens we'd visited the stadium of the first modern Olympic Games, but today, our port of call was Olympia, home of the ancient Olympic Games.

Into the Peloponnese - Mycenae and Epidauros

Having appreciated Ancient Corinth and the sunshine, we jumped back on the bus for a quick lunch stop and then on to Mycenae. 

Mycenae was one of the places I grew up knowing about not only from its connection with the Trojan War, but also from an archaeological series we had a home, and as a result it was one of those places I was keen to visit. Delightfully the road we took in was such that it was hidden from view until we were near, and then it only looked like an old fortress that had been reduced to a little more than a pile of rubble. Having seen aerial views of the town I knew what it contained (not that I was the only one).

Our first stop was the Tomb of Agamemnon, otherwise known as the Treasury of Atreus. This is a huge beehive tomb with the appearance of being buried into the hill. It is impressive, easily the most impressive tomb in the area and probably was the tomb of a great king of the royal family of Mycenae.

Into the Peloponnese - Corinth

Having been woken at some ungodly hour, we were on the bus and heading out of Athens at an hour I'm usually just contemplating getting up, so it felt like a less than perfect start to the day. However as it was supposed to be a day packed full of Ancient monuments, I didn't mind. Having followed the coast south-east the precious afternoon to get to Cape Sounio, we now headed north-west along the coast in the direction of Corinth. First stop was the Corinth Canal, a a thin deep cut through the isthmus connecting the Gulf of Corinth and the Saronic Gulf and saving cargo ships the hassle and expense of circling the Peloponnese in order to reach Athens.

Ancient Athens and Cape Sounio

I'm visiting Greece by Tour, simply because I don't feel comfortable doing it my myself and driving myself around the countryside (I have no experience driving in Europe and this is probably not the best way to start). Having arrived a few days early to catch up with a friend, the tour started properly on Saturday morning with Athens.

The heart of Athens is a delightful place, worth wandering around on foot, enjoying the food, the ancient monuments that seem to be everywhere, the touristy shops... The tour did not give us this opportunity as we were on a tight deadline which is almost a pity as there is so much history to immerse one's self into.

Grand Tour #∞+1

I can't remember how many lengthy sojourns to the continent I've made but I'm about to embark upon another one, tonight.

My sister and her partner live in Berlin, Germany and as a dear friend is getting married next December, if I want to spend one Christmas with Tegan and Andy while they're there, it kinda has to be this year.

Cicadas

In general, sound has a very limited place in the cataloguing of my memories. I may remember the identification of a sound and associate that identification with a place or experience, but the sound itself rapidly slips from my memory as though each and every one was completely silent but for the general chatter of conversation.
I remember that on my first visit to Singapore a sound that was identified as like that of an alarm clock was connected back to a local cicada, but I don't remember the sound itself, or even the intensity of the noise. Looking back, it is as though I never heard the original sound at all.
Another are the markets of Asia, food or otherwise. I have been to more than a few and while I remember the sight of crowds of people and goods being thrust in one's face, the associated sounds are about as distinct as loud static.
Other memories, I can feel my brain connect the dots: I see a seagull near the beach with its mouth open and so I actively fill the space with what experience has told me to expect to hear. But again, when the cause of the sound is 'invisible' it ceases to exist.

What is stranger still though is that there is one exception to this pattern. I have one memory where the sound is an overwhelming component of the memory.
I am in Athens, visiting the Acropolis and walking down the winding slope towards the Theatre of Dionysus. It's the middle of summer and the middle of a very hot day and as was typical of me, I was dehydrated and looking for a refreshing patch of shade in which to rest a while before continuing on down the slope and into the New Acropolis museum. Pausing in the shade of a pine tree, it was impossible not to hear the sound of a swarm of cicadas humming through the air above me. They never moved and I could not see them but somehow these insects chirped on incessantly  filling the surroundings with a strange liveliness, a reminded of life in the otherwise still air.

Back home, in our summer I occasionally hear a cicada, its familiar chirping drifting in through the open window, and am transported back to the downhill traipse among the vestiges of Athen's past.

Mykonos

At the end of my tour of the Greek Islands I alighted at Mykonos for a couple of days wandering around that island and the neighbouring one of Delos.



It has been a place I've been curious to visit since seeing my Father's photos from his own visit several years earlier. He'd been to the island on business, but in his free time, he'd taken his camera and sat in the shadow of the famous windmills overlooking the ocean and tail end of Little Venice. As the restaurants below opened for the evening trade, Dad captured a photo of racks of succulent octopi drying in the evening sun. If that was a standard image of somewhere like Mykonos then I wanted to be there.

Like all of the Greek Islands, Mykonos was a charm, a town of rambling streets between white-washed houses dotted with the vivid blue architraves or a flowering red hibiscus or voracious bougainvillea.

As you descended the hill towards the port, the intertwining streets created a maze of shops and eateries in which it was almost impossible not to get lost or side-tracked. On each attempt to traverse the distance between the hotel and the foreshore you would discover something new, something unexpected, something that needed to be investigated further. 

Eager to capture the simple beauty of the place, my camera was almost permanently attached to my wrist, or at the end of my hand focussed on one or other of the delights I kept stumbling upon.

However I did notice one thing that I wish I could have changed, one thing that I wish I could have removed. Either that or be old enough to have visited Mykonos before it's arrival. It was the power lines and electricity cables that ran in as rambling a manner over the rooftops and above the streets of the town. Photos of picturesque avenues or vistas over the town were marred by the perpetual presence of these cables. Looking down on Mykonos town from the hill on which my hotel was located or from the middle of the harbour, it felt virtually impossible to achieve a photo that wasn't impacted on by these intruding lines. 

What there is to seek

Sailing around the Greek Islands, I always felt the need to explore more than just the beaches and bars that each destination had to offer. While I don't regret the beaches visited or the bar we drank in, the Greek islands meant far more.

They were a connection with the past, not just with the world of the Ancient Greeks, but with my own past, with the myths I'd read though-out my childhood and with the events I'd studied in depth through my final years of school. I knew the legends of Thera, the volcanic tourist destination who had blown it's top and possibly wiped out civilisation on Crete. I knew of the island where Theseus dumped Ariadne having decided she was of no further use and where Dionysus fell in love and married her. The cave where Zeus was hidden upon birth to save him from his cannibalistic father. And of the floating island where Apollo was born before it became the seat of the Delian League.

A Blinding Splash of White.

Much of my time on the Greek islands was spent on the back of a scooter, touring the hills and vales and being introduced to the wild majesty of landscape. While it was all eye-catching and awe-inspiring to the highest level, there was one thing in particular that I delighted in.

Star Sighting

It wasn't until I reached Greece that I realised how much I'd missed the stars. Missed that occasional glance upwards to see them quietly twinkling back at you. At home you could lie in the park and have to seek out the constellation of the Southern Cross or the Pleiades from amidst the tangle of other stars that filled the night sky.

It's All Greek to Me

I've never been good at languages, but I've always been intrigued. Intrigued by their structure, their history, their differences, their similarities. English is a language that is comprised of so many other languages. We are habitual pinchers. And so when I look at French or Italian or some of the other languages of Europe, while I cannot read it, I recognise words or parts of words and it all feels that little more familiar. That little more approachable.

While in Greece, I remember standing in front of a stone monument and feeling completely at sea. It depicted the bust of a lady and a few lines of text, but I could not have told you anything more. There were no indications of what the subject of this memorial were, no identifiable dates or names that I could grasp on to.

The Marbles of Elgin

The British Museum is a treasure trove spanning across cultures and centuries and it can take weeks to visit even a half of the rooms, let alone come to grips with the stories therein. Here is the story of British trade routes and agreements, British exploration and British colonisation.

However I have a favourite room: that of the Elgin Marbles.