Today I had an entirely insignificant achievement that had nothing at all to do with cycling, writing, teaching or any of the other more-or-less respectable things I do. Still, I feel a little bit of pride.
What is that momentous deed? I went to Aristotle's Lyceum. That means I visited all of the archaelogical sites covered by the 30 Euro inclusive pass.
The Lyceum site, as it turns out, was on the way to the next part of my trip. At least, it's along the Metro line I took. According to Lonely Planet (the source of all of my scholarly information!), the site was excavated only in 2011. So, for 2346 years, it lay buried beneath what is now a police station and down the street from the War Museum.
I have long known that, until fairly recently, most major cities are located on the banks of some significant body of water. I have also noticed that many school catalogues show a body of water on their covers even if there isn't one within 100 kilometers of the campus.
As it turns out, the Lyceum was built by a river that has long since been filled in or rerouted. A chief reason is that, in keeping with the philosophy that the mind and body are one, the school had a gymnasium. The river supplied water for the baths which not only cleaned sweaty bodies, but also served as a purifying ritual.
Hmm...I always want to wash up after a bike ride. But I usually feel that the ride itself was in some way purifying, or at least cleansing, of my mind and spirit.
I imagine that it didn't take vigorous exercise for Aristotle's students to work up a sweat on a hot day. They probably were glistening after the walks they took, during which they talked about ideas of one kind or another with the master. Because of these walks, the Lyceum was also known as the Peripatetic (after perapos) School.
After visiting the Lyceum, I got back on the Metro for my next destination. Here's a clue to it:
Yes, it has water around it. I'll tell you more soon.
Yesterday, I took my first trip outside Athens, in the company of an unemployed historian.
Actually, Kostas is employed in three different jobs. He was performing one of when he drove a passenger van designed to carry a few more people but which--luckily for me--had to transport only me and him on the 2 1/2 drive to Delphi.
His employment situation is like that of too many young Greek (and American) university graduates. Even though he didn't incur debt for his education, Greek salaries are so low (at least in comparison with other European countries and the US) and taxes so high that he has to work nearly non-stop. That, in itself, is troubling. So is something else he told me: "In Delphi, I can't guide you." As he explained, he is not part of the guild of licensed tourguides.
Still, our conversation en route and on the way back to Athens was interesting. When you talk to him, you start to see that modern Greek life, even among the uneducated, is a reflection of the philosophies of espoused so long ago. "They all stressed balance," he explained. "The body, mind and spirit, all should be in balance," he said. "So should all areas of life--work, family and everything else." The fact that so much of the media stresses materialistic values and the body--or, at least, a particular image of it--is why the cause of so many of our problems.
While none of the philosophers focused on the body, "it all starts with the body," he explained. That made perfect sense when I saw this:
The stadium, for the Pythian games, is at the very top of the Delphi site. Below it is the theatre, which in turn is behind the Temple of Apollo, where consultations with the oracle took place. While the stadium is at a higher location, the Temple, the most sacred structure, is right at the center of Delphi, thus "balancing" different aspects of human life.
and under that, various stages, temples and treasuries. Near the base is the "navel" of the world. That stone was left exactly where archaeologists found it. I suppose leaving the stone there is also a kind of balance, too: After all, how do we define what is the "center" of our planet? The core? The point where zero degrees longitude (the location of which is pretty arbitrary, when you come right down to it) meets zero degrees latitude (the Equator)? Those archaeologists, I believe, were balancing what they knew as researchers and scientists with portraying what ancient people knew about the world in which they lived.
On our way back to Athens, we stopped in Arachova , which looks like an Alpine ski village. Actually, it is, except that it, of course, isn't in the Alps. I admitted to Kostas that until we saw , I never would have used "Greece" or "Greek" and "ski" in the same sentence. Then again, I am neither Greek (as far as I know, anyway) nor a skier, so I wouldn't have known how well-known the place is among skiers--and Greeks.
Now there's a balance: skiing, on the slopes around Mount Parnassus. On the other hand, I have to wonder how many folks are thinking "Nothing in excess!" as they're barreling down the slope.
Almost three years ago, the first phase--all 3.2 kilometers (2 miles)-- of the Second Avenue subway opened, nearly a century after it was first proposed. The second phase, roughly two-thirds of the distance, is expected to open some time during 2027-2029. After that, yet another extension is planned.
Whenever it's finished, it's still running ahead of the schedule on which the Temple of Olympian Zeus was built. To be fair, no one planned on taking more than seven centuries to finish it. Begun in the 6th Century BCE by Peristratos, it was abandoned for lack of funds. It finally got finished in 131 CE under the Roman Emperor Hadrian, who had a large statue of Zeus built in it, along with an equally large statue of itself.
If the Acropolis is the #1 "can't-and-shouldn't-miss-it" sight of Athens, the Temple, only a five-minute bike ride (if that) away is easily #2. For one thing, it's easily the largest and one of the most magnificent temples you'll ever encounter.
Just outside the Temple's grounds is another impressive structure: Hadrian's Arch, completed a year later both to commemorate the consecration of the Temple and demarcate the boundary between the ancient and Roman cities. The northwest frieze reads "This is Athens, the Ancient city of Theseus," while the southeast frieze says, "This is the city of Hadrian, and not of Theseus."
This Hadrian character had an ego. But he sure knew how to build a city. While he destroyed some other cities in Greece, he loved Athens and wanted it to be the artistic and intellectual center of the Roman Empire, as it was for its Greek counterpart. Evidence of his magnanimity and megalomania are found in another stop on my bike tour of Athens: Hadrian's Library. There's not much left of the actual library, which was set next to a courtyard bordered by 100 columns with a pool at its center! The library, in addition to the estimated 75,000 volumes it held (by far the largest collection of its time), also contained music and lecture rooms.
In between Hadrian's gate and library, I made another stop at the Roman Agora, right around the corner from the library. While the most impressive remains are near the entrance, the real "show-stopper" on this site is the so-called Tower of the Winds, which has served as an astrological observatory and Orthodox chapel. If you step inside on a hot day, as I did, you will understand why even with such summer heat, air conditioning was so rare until recently, here and in most of Europe: It seems like all of the winds are blowing through it!
Plus, I'll admit, I wouldn't mind having a skylight like that in my apartment!
Now, if I were an Athenian or in any way sensible, I probably would have stopped at least for something to drink, if not a full-on Greek lunch, somewhere between one of those destinations. But since I'm not Greek (and I will let you decide whether or not I'm sensible), I wanted to ride and see more. You might say I was getting addicted to cycling my way through history.
Oh, and I wanted to pack as much into my day before I had to return my rental to Athens by Bike. I would have kept it another day if I hadn't had other plans.
So another ten-minute bike ride through a narrow, cafe-lined lane, an only-slightly-wider path rimmed by flea-market stalls and a cobblestone walkway that led to the path I rode to the sea, I came to Kerameikos, which you might say is an early "potter's field" because it takes its name from the clay-workers who settled there, along the banks of clay-rich banks of the Eridanos, a stream that was covered over in ancient times and re-discovered during construction of the Athens Metro.
Kerameikos is practically a diorama of Athenian history. In it, you can see the Sacred Way, which pilgrims entered through the Sacred Gate for the annual Elusinian Procession, which commemorated the abduction of Persephone from her mother Demeter by Hades, the king of the underworld, and her rescue. A little further along is the Diplyon Gate, at that time the city's gate and the starting point for the parade. It's also where prostitutes gathered to offer themselves to travelers. Oh, and right by that gate, Pericles gave a speech extolling the virtues of Athenians and honoring those who died in the Peloponnesian Wars.
Oh, and right by that is a cemetery used by the Romans until the time of Justinian (6th Century BCE) and uncovered during street construction in the 1860's. And there's the path to Plato's Academy.
I thought my head was spinning from taking all of that in. But, in reality, between my biking and all of the sites I'd visited, I'd been out in direct sunlight for close to eight hours. Even with all of the sunscreen I slathered on myself, I was feeling the burn.
After returning the bike, I stopped for some yogurt with cherries and an iced coffee. Then, in walking by down the pedestrian mall that passes the Acropolis Museum and the base of the Acropolis hill, I saw an entrance to the park that includes the Hills and Pynx, which in turn connects to Filopappu Hill, named for a prominent Roman consul and administrator. It is on these hills that, according to Plutarch, Thesus and the Amazons did battle. The west side of Filopappu, as it turns out, is right across the street from the apartment where I'm staying.
Like most hilltops in Athens, it offers a nice view of the Acropolis. But, if you get tired of that (as if that's possible!), you can turn and see this:
I wanted to visit all of the sites I mentioned because the pass I bought for 30 Euros at the Acropolis included entrance to all of them (except Filopappu, which is free) and lasts for three days. (It's 20 Euros for the Acropolis alone.) That 30-Euro pass is, as the Athens cultural office explains, for "archaeological" sites, all of which are outdoors. There's another 15-Euro pass, also for three days, that includes the Acropolis Museum and the Archaelology Museum, as well as others. As each of those museums has a 10-Euro admission fee, this pass is also well worth the money.
Today, though, I travelled outside of Athens. More about that later.
