Newsletter     Volume I-2    Greece - May 2011

Day 1: Athens - May 17

Our trip started with an exploration of the Pre-Socratics. The system that can work for some readers is writing a summary based on a fragment or two, as one merges one’s reading with Nietzsche’s overview (in his fabulous yet little known work “The Pre-Platonics”). This gave us at last a fleeting but useful basic understanding of Thales (water, first non-superstitious thinker), Anaximenes (all is air, first to posit a unifying principle AND to give a reason for it (a monist, like Thales)), Anaxagoras (apeiron), Parmenides (along with his sidekick Zeno; no change nor void is possible) Heraclitus (emphasis on “becoming”), Pythagoras (all is number), Democritus (atomism and void (take that, Parmenides!)), Protagoras (a key Sophist and relativist) and that’s about it.

We all met on Ermou Street and start talking about philosophy, a pastime that will last –- almost without cessation – for the next week.

Day 2: Athens - May 18

Despite a mildly late night, we awoke full of energy and assembled on the roof of our hotel – which provided one of the most breath-taking vistas of the Acropolis.

Before noon, we wandered the Museum of Athens. Denise Blickhan, a 22-year-old philosophy student and friend of Yunus, joined us. Here we had the first opportunity to soak up a vast repository of Greek treasures, from Cycladic figures to the Mask of Agamemnon to stone and bronze statues. Our tour guide, Faye Georgiou, spared no effort to remind us of her knowledge and celebrity, but in general we appreciated her insights and ability to tell a story about any object indicated. Highlights included the bronze Javelin thrower and the funerary steles (especially that of a baby reaching out for its mother). Before leaving, we rushed back for a final look at the arrowheads, which had been showered upon King Leonidas at Thermopylae. (When told the arrows were so numerous they would block out the sun, he replied, “Very well then, we shall fight in the shade.”) After a longish tour of the museum, we said farewell, and walked back to the hotel.

By 8pm, it was time to head off to meet Simos Georgopoulos, the Greek wine expert, at a hidden taverna called Monopolia Di Athens. Simos was waiting for us, and had selected 7 bottles of his favorite wines of Greece. Over the next few hours, Kostas (the owner) brought forth extraordinary dishes (prepared mainly by his mother), while Simos shared the history, biography, chemistry, and philosophy behind each wine we drank. It was a whirlwind tour of food and wine, elegantly paired, and leavened throughout with a natural and compelling conversation across the table. We ended with a sweet Belvedere from Mercouri vineyards, adored by all. After embraces of Simos, Kostas, and his mother, we bade farewell to the restaurant.

Day 3: Athens (Acropolis) - May 19

This day was dedicated to the Acropolis, beginning with the museum. No need to recount the story behind this structure or the masterpieces within, except to say that many of us were frozen in our tracks at several points in the tour, particularly when confronted with “Aphrodite Adjusting Her Sandal.”

After this, we scaled the Acropolis itself. This would make every atom in our skin and mind vibrate, but at the same time there was a fog of loss and falseness over the entire spectacle. How far one felt then from Phideas and Pericles! How difficult to relate to the heroes of the Classical Age! And how impossible to understand what a wanderer 2,500 years ago must have felt here! Still, the goose bumps ran amok, certain geographic questions were finally answered (specifically, the exact location of the island of Salamis where the Greeks sought refuge after abandoning Athens to the Persian army), and this two-dimensional mind-scape had become a three-dimensional experience.

It turned out that Simos’ affection for us convinced him to break one of his cardinal rules – never mix business and pleasure. He invited us to the hip restaurant/club “Dirty Ginger” (where he knows the owners) and refused any payment for another night of eating and drinking. In fact, he brought a magnum (1 of 20 made) of the only wine he’s ever taken part in producing. We ate very well (a bit more modern than previously, but still fantastically delicious), met the proprietor, and finished off a great portion of food and wine. At a crucial moment, when all the gods of reason would have recommended a return to our beds, someone announced: “We should either go home or make this a long night.” We opted for the latter, like Socrates in the Symposium.

Day 4: Corinth, Nemea, Mycenae, and Tolo -  May 20

Socrates was always impressive with his ability to imbibe with no ill-effects the next morning. Debates about Epicurus and discussions of the Canal of Corinth were going on, as we were passing the famous Isthmus, the bottleneck through which so much of ancient Greek history choked and flowed. Within a short period of time, we crossed the famous canal, and then arrived to Nemea, one of the four sites of the Pan-Hellenic games. Yunus provided a wide-ranging and deep overview (his specialty is athletic competition in the Greek world), and brought the stadium to life.

After than, we headed to Mycenae – a monument to the massive foundations upon  which later Greek culture stands, if unconsciously, and a reminder of the connections between mainland Greece of the 1300 BC and the Egyptians, seen most clearly through their monumental building projects.

Most importantly, the acropolis of Mycenae provided a glorious viewpoint down the valley and to the sea. Not only did this clarify the fact that Mycenae was a “port-power,” but more importantly, we could all visualize the armada of ships heading to Troy, from a spot in the bay just ahead. The grave of Agamemnon, Atreus, and the rest were nothing to me compared to the vision of these ships setting sail for far-off Troy. Another realization was the location of Argos, perched in the distance on an outcropping near the bay, not far from Mycenae.

But the day was not yet over. We drove a few hours down to a sea-side gem called Tolo, near Argos, where Agamemnon’s captains would have bade farewell to their friends and family. Today, the place is a quiet village with sandy beaches, picturesque islands floating in the deep blue bay, and forts and monasteries sprinkled about, reminding us that life never paused when Socrates died or Alexander’s empire disintegrated, or the Romans claimed what was not rightly theirs.

That night, with no idea how or what we might eat, Mike wandered down to the shore and stumbled upon a fisherman who happened to have a net-full of fresh catch. We leapt at the invitation and I (for one) devoured the little deep fried red mullets, or “barbounia” (“The fish all cats hate, because they can be chewed up entire, bones and all.”) and a giant sharp-toothed fish fed the rest. In between tales from the waiter of the 19th century battle of the Greeks against the Turks, we finally rolled up our sleeves and tried to crack the Pre-Socratics. Parmenides, that night, finally came into focus, as did his influence on Plato.

Exhausted and exhilarated by the landscape, the history, the food, and the conversation, we made it an early night. But not early enough, as we had to meet quite early to make it to Sparta in time.

Day 5: Tolo, Epidaurus, Lavidia and Sparta - May 21

First stop, Epidaurus – one of the best-preserved amphitheaters of the ancient world. Designed by an architect (in 4th century BC) inspired by Phideas (of Acropolis fame), it supposedly contains a vast array of mathematical and geometrical flourishes that helped make Greek tragedy not only awesome, but audible.

After marveling for a few moments at the acoustics of the place (the landscape was also very inspiring), we unconsciously gathered at the top rung of the seats and our conversation revolved around all sorts of fascinating topics – the meaning of love, life, community, and most importantly, friendship.

After this, what a drive into the mountains, away from the sea and into the cave-like retreat of the Spartans! On the way, we read Thucydides (specifically the haunting description of the plague), we discussed further the Pre-Socratics, and received an overview from Yunus about the Spartans.

When we finally crested the last hill, Mike’s heart and voice leapt as he saw for the first time the wilderness where the Spartans would deposit their teens, in a ritual to determine if they could survive the elements and make it back to the city alive.

From Sparta we headed north and then west to the coast toward Olympia. Along the way, we stumbled upon a glorious village, hanging for its life on a steep, verdant hillside, and couldn’t help but stop for lunch. The town’s name was Lavidia. We ate and drank delicious local wine and continued our conversations about Plato and Aristotle. Hard to leave this paradise, but we had to get to Olympia.

Thanks to Simos, we had an appointment to visit one of the Greece’s most renowned wine-makers, Mr. Kanellakopoulos, of the Mercouri Estate. We arrived, after a bit of confusion, to this estate, first purchased and planted by his great-great grandfather in the mid 1800s. Peacocks strutted and screamed, and the old buildings that housed the wine tasting area had as much history as a museum of wine-making. The table where we tried the wines was worn deep as a 500 year old pew, with smooth grooves where ten thousand glasses of wine must have been swirled.

Mr. Kanellakopoulos clearly enjoyed taking us into his home (which is how it felt) and took his time to tell us the story of his family, the estate, the rootstock (which pre-dates Phylloxera, one of the last patches on earth to do so), the old and new systems for winemaking, the cool underground cellar, and finally, the sharing of his wines. We bought 22+ bottles, partially out of a sense of gratitude, partially because we thought Professor Bargeliotes might be a heavy drinker, and partially just because they were so darn tasty. 

We bid farewell and headed to the Professor’s home for a discussion of philosophy and a barbeque. We were all much less skeptical of the barbeque.

The professor has dedicated his life to one theory and has created an institute and printed tens of thousands of pages to his life’s passion. We engaged in a discussion with him on the basic questions that haunted our minds regarding this philosophy, which claims to be the final chapter of all Greek thought. Our dialogue was mollified when Nick (the cook) and his wife announced that the chicken and pork and lamb (roasted over wood coals) were ready.  We thanked Professor Bargeliotes as we left for our hotel in Olympia.  It was a long day all the way from Sparta.

Day 7: Olympia and Delphi - May 23

The next morning we visited Olympia, a massive complex that struck us first of all by its great distance from the mainland and the cities of Athens, Thebes and the islands of Ionia. We were reminded of the prevalence (and the danger) of sea-travel as well as the deep religiosity of the ancient Greeks, who thought nothing of hiking across dangerous terrain for a score of days to meet the gods and see the best athletes compete for crowns of olive branches.

Olympia is a massive complex, but very little that really connects with the spectator sport of ages past is intact (except the race track).  The only place that stopped us in our tracks was the workhouse of Phideas, where the statue of Zeus was assembled (one of the Wonders of the World). Despite the fact that it had since been turned into a church, one could still hear the strike of the hammers, the fine sanding of the ivory, and the steaming hiss of gold being poured into clay molds. The museum of Olympia was also quite extraordinary, packed with fascinating reconstructions and artifacts. The world must be thankful to the thousands of silent archeologists, philologists, and literary critics who have scraped away two millennia of crust to provide us our glimpse of this ancient world!

And yet the day was not over! We bade farewell to Olympia and headed along the coast of the Peloponnesus along the Corinthian Gulf. And there it was – such as simple modern creation: a bridge over the Gulf. How many battles, how many strategic discussions, how many lives cut short or villages spared, can trace their fortune to the lack of this bridge and the impassable Gulf? Regardless, now there is a graceful bridge, and we crossed it.

A few hours winding into the hills and we crossed the threshold of Delphi. The landscape (a breathtakingly lush drop to the sea below and mighty, noble, jagged rock mountains above) matched the magic of this site, and we all felt it. Dinner was consumed on a ledge, looking down at the bay exactly as a hundred thousand pilgrims once saw, with hope and fear in their breasts that their prayers would be answered by the Oracle (or at least that they would receive an answer ambiguous enough to be interpreted in a positive manner). The proximity of the Oracle and the night breeze inspired us to delve into the question of friendship and to wonder aloud what question – if we were believers – we would ask of the Oracle.

Finally, we paid the bill, but not before the waiter detained us and confided that he had always (he was born there) felt a special power emanating from Delphi. When we expressed a hint of skepticism, he reminded us that not far away Satanists gathered, proving that the poles of good and evil are never placed too distant from each other.

Day 8: Delphi- and Athens - May 24

Dephi, Delphi, Delphi. Nowhere else did the Greeks heave their cartloads of treasure and build together as one people, in such an inaccessible and cramped place, monuments to the glory of one Idea – that the Universe will provide you an answer to any question, if only you ask with enough piety and plunder.

The museum was one of the finest, not least because of its masterpiece, the Charioteer of Delphi. Here is one of the only exemplars of the kind of statues that the average Greek saw every day: a simple bronze (99.99% are gone, leaving us only the broken stone statuary of temples). And yet, this piece screams out at us, on a dozen levels. Look first at the unity of the design (even without the horses) – a pillar (boring) but imbued with such life that it seems about to leap off the chariot and bow down before the judges. Look next at the playful dichotomy the sculptor throws at us – the viewer’s eyes start in the middle, again, evocative of a simple ancient form, the column, but immediately are drawn upwards, to the eyes of the charioteer – lifelike with ivory, staring at us with an unforgettable “GREEK” sang-froid. This boy, has, after all, just won in the Olympic games. No sweat, no panting. Just the modest-pride of a pure Classical Greek, in his moment of triumph.

Do you doubt the playful audacity of the artist? Let your eyes drop down a few inches and behold the upper folds of the gown – as different from the bottom as a Corinthian to a Doric column; as Athens to Sparta; as life to art. And what separates these two worlds? A simple belt, which plays both an aesthetic and a practical purpose, was to keep the gown from flapping in the wind. What better example of Greek perfection: function and form in perfect harmony and love. If you are still not convinced, glance upon the feet – as real as your nephew’s, trimmed, healthy, and ready to be kissed by a plethora of admirers when he returns home.

After the museum, we can climb the same path that Greeks from every corner of their world climbed, to cajole and bribe the Oracle. There is the Omphalos, the belly button of the world, in the center of Apollo’s temple. More important to me is the lost world of Delphi – only visible in the imagination: a packed and teething mini-metropolis, full of poor pilgrims and wealthy politicians, athletes stretching in a final attempt to garner a crown and the highest honor that the Greeks could bestow; singers and speakers practicing their speeches and clearing their throats, hoping for a first place spot in rhetoric (the only place in the world where such a skill was acknowledged, let alone celebrated), the whole place humming with expectation, exhaustion turning over to the exhilaration after the long journey and the closeness to the God. And most of all, every inch packed with gold, silver, ivory, statuary, votive offerings, pillars, statues, inscriptions – like ten thousand Christmastime window displays on Fifth Avenue, worth a million times more….

We returned to Athens in the evening and had our last dinner at the Archaion, a restaurant that uses only ancient ingredients with waiters and waitresses dressed accordingly. Our friend, Denise, also joined us. The food was impressive, but the wine was hard to swallow. To our dismay, the dancers were not present that night.  We returned to our hotel and socialized on the roof. The night was long, but we had to bid farewell. We left Athens the following morning.