Last year, it was about a sunrise. This year, sunsets.
I'm trying not to read too much into that. I am being quite literal: Last year, one important reason I went to Cambodia was to see the sun rise over the Angkor Wat. This year, I wanted to see the sun set at least once in one of the Cyclaides Islands, though it didn't loom quite as large among my reasons for coming to Greece.
But a sunset I wanted, and a sunset I got.
Yesterday, I got to Santorini later than I expected and my hotel was further from Oia, that village you see all over Instagram, than I thought.
Then again, the Hotel Santa Irina is right by what some believe to be the nicest beach on the island. Better yet (or worse, if I am going to wear the bathing suit I brought), there's a great bakery, also called the Santa Irina, on the premises.
The hotel's receptionist--Georgia, a sweet woman about my age--suggested another nearby village for a sunset. "The one in Pirgos is unique," she said. A few local people echoed her belief.
I must say, it certainly is unlike any other I've seen. And yes, it's beautiful.
All right, I'm going to "come out" about something else. (Believe it or not, even after you've revealed yourself as transgender and begun to live as who you are, there are still all sorts of other ways in which you can "come out.") It's something you may have already figured: I am a romantic. There, I've said it.
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.
