Having just returned from our holiday, musings on its progress filled my thoughts in the park this morning. Last year, for the first time since 1989 (!), we took our spring holiday elsewhere than the Greek island of Karpathos. We decided it was time we saw other islands and my wife has long hankered to visit the Cyclades, a group of islands in the central Aegean. We had a very good time and decided to repeat the experience this year, visiting those islands which had most appealed to us in 2017. But I had also wished for a long time to visit two famous ancient sites in the Peloponnese so our holiday commenced with a couple of days in Athens preparatory to a stay in Napflio, a two-hour bus journey away and an ideal place from which to achieve my aims.
Napflio is an historic town with the same chequered history of occupations by various invaders as so much of Greece but is distinguished by the fact that it became the seat of the provisional government of Greece after the Greek war of independence and the first head of state of the newly independent Greece set foot on the mainland there in 1828 and made it the capital in 1829. With the arrival of a new king in 1834 the capital was moved to Athens. Napflio turned out to be a pleasant enough place but too touristy for us, too many smart shops, too many people. As we were in Greece two weeks later this year than last, the increased number of holiday makers was a theme repeated throughout our stay. But the object of the visit was achieved with ease.
Epidavros is famous for two reasons. It had a sanctuary dedicated to Asclepius, the son of Apollo, known as the healer. It was the most celebrated healing centre of the Classical world and ill people went there to be cured. A building to accommodate 160 guests was built and pilgrims brought riches to the area and the sanctuary expanded in the 4th and 3rd centuries BC. Extensive ruins remain.
But it is as well the site of a theatre, also built with proceeds of the sanctuary, a huge semicircular structure that can seat 14,000 people in rows of limestone seats so well designed to filter out extraneous sounds that unamplified normal speech can be heard in the very highest places. Again, built in the 4th century BC. Here the first works that can be called plays were performed and the original performances of Sophocles and Aeschylus took place. For a lover of theatre it was for me like visiting a shrine. Of course, along with many others, dropping coins to test whether the acoustic claims were true, climbing all over the seats to take their place in their imagination looking down on those masked performers. In my turn I took my place at the centre of the stage, looked up at this awe inspiring creation (plays are performed here every summer during a festival) and quietly intoned to myself .... To be. Or not to be. That is the question.
We visited Epidavros by bus and intended next day to visit Mycenae. But my wife noticed that the first bus did not arrive there until 10. And the site opened at 8. So by the time the bus arrived, how many people would be in front of us? We investigated cost and decided to go by taxi and be at the gates at opening time. I can only fail to convey the anticipation, almost disbelief, within me that I was finally to see Mycenae. From those early simple stories of the wooden horse and the blinding of Polyphemus, I had been fascinated by the myths surrounding the Trojan War. Bear with me those who know. Helen, the wife of Menelaus, the king of Sparta, was abducted by Paris, a prince of Troy and taken back to his home city, Troy in what is now Turkey. Menelaus appealed to his brother, Agamemnon, the warrior king of Mycenae for help and a vast fleet was assembled, ships from throughout the Greek islands, packed with soldiers, to set off under the command of Agamemnon and make siege on Troy. There was no suitable wind for days then weeks and a seer told Agamemnon that because he had offended the goddess Artemis, there would be no favourable wind unless he sacrificed his daughter, Iphigenia. This he did, the winds came, the fleet left. And ten long years later Troy fell (wooden horse!) and those still alive returned home. Agamemnon returned the conquering hero, complete with a concubine Cassandra, one of the spoils of war. One assumes he expected to be welcomed with open arms by his wife, Clytemnestra. Whose daughter he had slaughtered. Concubine on his arm. Tired and filthy with the tribulations of his journey, he took a bath. Clytemnestra and the lover she had taken while hubbie was away, Aegisthus, did to him what he did to their daughter. Leading to yet more woeful results which I leave you to research if you’re interested.
These myths were told in the two great poetic works of Homer, the Iliad and the Odyssey. Fascinating stories, legends. But late in the nineteenth century a German businessman, Heinrich Schliemann, became convinced that there might historical fact behind them and began excavating at Mycenae. In due course he uncovered a huge fortification and residential area, great grave chambers filled with bodies, water cisterns, the evidence of something resembling the tales. And, most exciting of all, large quantities of intricate and sometimes exquisite gold jewellery. And one day he uncovered a large, over life size gold mask of a man’s face, bearded and fierce, dubbed by him and still known as the mask of Agamemnon.
The site was deserted when we arrived at 7.50 so we paid our money and entered to wander slowly towards the main fortification. The whole area had been just a huge hill until the excavations took place but now we passed great water cisterns, stone lined pits, foundations and low walls where men would have been housed. Then up a now concreted road that leads to the Lion gate, the entrance to the more elevated area where they would have retreated to face a besieging army. The walls around the gate were constructed of enormous stones, 6 tons each. The lintel of the gate weighs 12 tons. And above the lintel, sculptures of two huge lions, the heads now gone, knocked off during a battle presumably, but still impressive. And then we visited the three shaft graves. These were underground when discovered but are now totally revealed as buildings, accessible via high doors into what I can only describe as being like massive beehives. They are 20 plus feet in diameter at the base and rise up 30 ft to a near perfect cone, lined with stones, with no cement. The pure physical achievement is astonishing, breathtaking. There are three such structures called the graves of Agamemnon, Clytemnestra and Aegisthus. This is, of course, fanciful because there is still no evidence that these people existed and the date of the site differs from the presumed date of the Trojan war by 1000 years! Still1300 to 1400 years BCE so how did they do it? I for one, accepted the whole experience. At last!!
Then we went to the museum to see some of the artefacts, tools, pottery, jewellery, all of amazing quality, workmanship as good as any you see today. And the great gold mask of Agamemnon, which is a copy, the original being in the National Archeological Museum in Athens, where I saw it some years ago. More disbelief at the pure physical achievements. And it was now 9.20. There were 15 coaches in the car park and, looking up at the site, it resembled nothing other than an anthill, the paths lined with people, snapping selfies, listening to their guides explaining just why this is regarded as an important part of the history of world civilisation. I hope they listened!
So that was Napflio and environs. A bus trip back to Piraeus, the port of Athens, to take a ferry to Amorgos next. Our Dutch friends from Karpathos, who have been to Piraeus many times, had recommended a good restaurant near the port and a swift taxi ride through chaotic traffic which cost all of 4 Euros took us to a delicious lunch and a very helpful proprietor who stopped a taxi when we were ready to leave and gave the driver instructions on where we needed to be so that another 4 Euros later we were on the ship. Piraeus is a site of controlled chaos I think for 24 hours per day so the help we had received was very much appreciated.
Amorgos is one of the Lesser Cyclades and we had visited it last year. We were encouraged to go there by another couple, Germans, from our Karpathos years. They have visited many islands and have been coming to Diafani for many years. He is a top-class photographer and we have a superb collection of his photos that he gave us on a CD he prepared. We also have DVDs that he has made with a truly professional look to them, of Karpathos and Amorgos. They went to Amorgos at the same time as us last year and we stayed in adjacent rooms at a place on a hill looking down on the port and beach area of Aegiali (pronounced Ayali) the northern port of the island and the same happened this year.
Our seven-hour ferry journey from Piraeus has us arriving at one in the morning so we took a cabin so as to have somewhere to lie down and also to escape the noisy conditions outside. Nothing noisier than a boatload of Greeks. And tourists. But the boat was delayed, we did not arrive until 2 a.m., to be met by our faithful host Yannis. So, a late start next day, after greeting our friends who have been awaiting our arrival. Horst is known in Diafani as Kosta, Horst being too unGreek a word, I think and they have spent so much time sharing every aspect of life with the locals, and photographing them that they are universally loved and respected. And I think the same is developing in Amorgos. They are a very private couple and although we are in contact every day, we go our own ways apart from sharing the occasional dinner and/or ouzos. We dined with them on the night of the European Champions League final over which I will draw a discreet curtain.
Amorgos is a lovely island with sandy beaches, several villages, each with its different feel, extensive walks. The scenery is not of the same majesty as Karpathos but at the other end of the island it does have a gorgeous cake shop! So we took our hired car there one day and indulged ourselves, photographing the cakes to send to our envious family! And we visited my wife’s favourite beach from last year called Mouros, crystal, aquamarine sea and a sunny day. I should have already mentioned that this early part of the holiday was conducted in mainly cloudy weather, with sometimes high wind. And in Athens we had had a smattering of rain. So sunny days were the exception at this time.
We had driven to a really small village called Arkesini last year to find it deserted. As I said, we were two weeks later this year so there were signs of life including a couple of tavernas. Having the car still on our last day on the island and nothing else to do I suggested we go there again to maybe eat. And this led to our magical experience of this year.
Driving around any island, it has been our experience that you pass a sign saying in Greek obviously St George or Saint Mama and you never know if this means a village or just a church. We had seen a sign to St George Valsimitis as we sped past on our previous visit so on a whim this time I turned off the main road to investigate. We found we were following a white car so when we reach the small white church we parked the car and sat watching. A man left the white car and walked to the church by which time I was standing by our car and he made a gesture to indicate the fact that the church was locked. I was back in the car preparing to turn it around when he called out to say it was unlocked, someone had appeared. So, we walked down a path, through a narrow gate to find the church was surrounded by a well-tended garden and the person who had opened the church was a lady dressed like a nun, in black from head to foot, including covering her hair. In her early sixties, she proved to speak good English. We followed the couple from the white car into the church which proved to have some lovely icons, including a very old looking one of St George. The couple proved to be devout so icon kissing and praying ensued and by the time we left the church into an anteroom, our nun had laid out four plates each with a slice of cake, and a glass of water beside. During the ensuing conversation, she told us that she had been here, alone, for eight years, spending her time restoring the church and creating the garden. And praying. She loved Amorgos and during a visit from Athens, where she came from, she felt that Jesus had wanted her to come here. In the room where we chatted there were some small handcrafted wooden trays and lathe turned boxes that she had decorated with delicate patterns of flowers and butterflies. My wife bought two of the boxes and a keyring of small silver emblems and the nun then gave us a three CD set of Greek religious music which I guess will not be played often. But I have to confess that the whole experience had a calm and warm feel to it as a result of this dedicated acolyte.
But when I got back to our rooms and looked at a guide book written by an English couple who have lived on the island for years, I realised the significance of the place built on the site of a 9th century church whose foundation myth is fascinating. Some lepers escaped from a pirate ship and hiding in the countryside they came upon a spring with mint growing nearby. They settled there and after a while their leprosy disappeared and they discovered an icon of St George so a church was built there to honour him. As with many such stories, the site was also famous in pre-Christian times for healing!! But there was mint everywhere!
Having fallen into ruins it was rebuilt in 1688 and 1796. By 1885 there were priests there offering an oracle to predict future prospects based as such things always have been on mumbo jumbo connected with the state of the water in the spring! People came to consult the priests before marriage etc and sailors came before setting off on voyages to find out their prospects. Unfortunately, pirates had bribed the priest on occasions and ships left to find an unhappy end to their voyage. By the 20th century, a disapproving bishop had halted all this and people now came merely for a drink of the healing water.
But in the late 1960s a final miracle occurred. A crew member of a ship passing Amorgos dreamt that St George told him there was a hole in the ship. When the dream recurred, he woke the crew and they searched the ship and discovered there was a hole and the ship was taking on water. A repair was effected and, when they could, the crew made a pilgrimage to Valsamitis to offer thanks and tell their tale. I pass this on without comment.
After Amorgos it was a short journey on a local ferry that serves these islands year-round to Donoussa. This is a small island that Horst told us was ok for a day trip but not much longer, but my wife had found accommodation that was literally on the beach and we craved some peace and had enjoyed three days there last year very much. And Horst is not happy unless he can find kafenions (traditional Greek cafes) to snap. So, we came this year for nine days! And the wind blew!! The sun shone. But the wind blew. But we didn’t mind. A beach café beside our room was closed last year but open this. Nice relaxed feel, nice people. I wore my John Coltrane tee shirt and the proprietor greeted me like a long-lost brother! And even played some of the calmer stuff by the man in question.
My wife was able to swim from right outside our pad and another lovely beach where nudism was accepted was a twenty minute walk away. Although she found the water cold! Three tavernas to hand, a well-stocked if small supermarket. All in all, perfect. One day we took a boat trip (on rough sea!) to the other end of the island to a truly stunning bay with a series of beaches and a very good tavern where we had a leisurely lunch and a trip back on a local minibus service, which again was not operating last year but as we were later it was. Another friend from Karpathos who we had not seen for two years, a German lady from Munich, cultured and a pleasure to be with, joined us for our last three days. One evening we took a bus with her to an isolated taverna that had a menu worthy of the most trendy of restaurants! Then it was back to Piraeus to meet a taxi driver from Diafani (!) who took us to a large room close to Athens airport which proved to be an ideal way to while away our last two days, including two dinners at an excellent taverna where we sat on the beach and followed by a perfect journey home.