10 March 2010 (Wednesday #6) – Delphi day, Arachova

 
From Delphi to lunch to Arachova (or Arahova or Αράχωβα) to Athens

Sorry, but Greeks can’t spell worth a hoot. A name might have any number of spellings. Very confusing.

Greeks also have no concept of lunchtime. While we were in Greece, I don’t think we ate a single lunch at what I would call lunchtime. I’m all about eating meals on time, not missing a meal, cleaning my plate, and things like that. Nevertheless, even if a meal is not served at the proper time, I’ll eat it anyway. And I'll probably eat it all.

After our Delphi adventure, we boarded the bus and went to a nearby hotel for our lunch. Here’s our view out the restaurant window:

The rain was still falling steadily.

I said I hope we weren’t having another Greek salad for lunch. We had already done Greek salads. My wish was granted! We were served these really yummy cheese pastry things (of which I didn’t get a good photo):

I asked our server what they're called, and she said, "Cheese pastries." Smart aleck.

Here’s the main course:

Pork, rice (sort of like risotto), and salad greens swimming in oil (Be still my heart!).

Before dessert was served, I said I hope we won’t get oranges again. Who wants to peel and eat an orange when you’re in Greece surrounded by baklava and loukoumathes and kourabiethes and kataifi and melomakarona and galaktoboureko and more baklava? Besides, what if they accidentally served us those insanely bitter oranges from the trees lining the streets of Athens? (Where there is no trouble, imagine some.)

Well, they served us oranges, but we also had other fresh fruits from which to choose, like pears and apples. But no baklava. I ate this healthy pear:

(The bottom of the pear looked like it was smiling at me.)

Back on the bus again . . . While waiting for the other passengers to board, I took a photo of our Vancouver friends, Marilyn and Ronnie:

This was our second day to travel with them accidentally. We ate lunch with them again, and they made some more dire predictions about things that will probably happen tomorrow during the national strikes/riots. Marilyn also told us her motto: “NEVER pass up the opportunity to go to the bathroom!” (We'd kind of already figured that out about her.) They were a fun and funny couple. (And I now own that same shade of MAC lipstick Marilyn is wearing.)

When everyone was back on the bus, we left for Arachova. Good-bye, hotel (where we just had lunch):

Lovely.

Views from the bus as it zoomed higher up the mountain in the pouring rain from Delphi to Arachova:

We have arrived in Arachova:

Stupid rain.

[Pause to search the Internet to show photos of what we should have seen of Arachova if it hadn't been raining. . .. I’ll give info about the town while I’m looking. I can multi-task like that.]

Only a few miles from Delphi, but waaaay up higher on Mount Parnassus is Arachova, a lovely little town with about 4000 residents. It’s over 3000 feet above sea level (compared to Delphi being about 1800 feet above sea level and Memphis being barely 300 feet above sea level).

The following are borrowed photos of Arachova.

(Well, in this photo it looks like it’s about to rain here, too.)

Arachova is tourist attraction because of its proximity to Delphi. In the winter it’s popular because of the upscale ski resort that was just developed in the late 20th century, about 15 miles away from Arachova. In the summer people come here to hike the mountain trails. Many Athenians have second homes here for escaping the summer heat of the city and for skiing in the winter.

Look how the houses are packed in and go right up the side of the mountain:

The Athenians must feel right at home.

This shot of Arachova really does look like Athens:

Here’s the main street at the top of Arachova:

This street is part of the main Delphi – Athens highway. I think it’s called Delphon. (It probably has several spellings.) Whatever its name, it was ridiculously narrow. I wonder how many people are killed each year while trying to walk on the bitsy sidewalks.

Look how tight it is for the buses:

Since 1400, Arachova has been famous for its traditional textiles (like wool carpets), olives, vineyards and wine, and unique cheeses.

Our bus stopped for us to visit a carpet/pottery store. I said, “No way am I getting off this bus in that rain!” Then I remembered how much each minute of the trip was costing, and hotfooted it into the store. (“Hotfooted” might be a Southern expression.)

I was so glad I went inside! Conrad and I had already decided to get everyone in the family a Grecian urn as a memento of when we went to Greece (and they didn't). The store where we were taken in Arachova was loaded with pottery. We held up the bus while we carefully made our selections.

I’ll take photos of some of the urns and post them later. We got a good deal on them, too! How do I know? Because Nick (the owner of the store) told us so. (That was really his name.) And he liked us so much, he gave us this cute picture so we’d remember what the town looked like:

A more accurate representation would have been something doused in water.

Finally, we were back on the bus for the last time. While we made the 112-mile trip from Arachova to Athens, Conrad . . ., well, you not believe this, but he took a nap:

I listened to tunes on my iPhone, too (but I was awake). Listening to Abba and The Bee Gees while tooling around the mountains of Greece . . . I am so cool! (For the record, I also have songs from more modern artists, like Taylor Swift and Adam Lambert. Graham helps me with my music selections.)

Back in Athens night was just falling:

And the rain had stopped falling! Actually, Athens got no rain at all.

I’ve only been here a few days, but I LOVE this crowded, steep city!

One nice thing about Conrad conking out (Is that a Southern expression, too?) every single time his rear hits a bus seat is that he awakens with a burst of energy.

While I organized our hotel room (something I did EVERY night of our trip, because I’m obsessive-compulsive) to incorporate the gifts we’d just purchased in Arachova, Conrad shot off to get our nightly snack. He returned with bottles of Coke Zero from the little store across the street from our hotel:

And he jetted over to Plaka to get us this very yummy gyro with lamb, tomato, and French fries, all stuffed inside a pita wrap:

Granted, Greeks have spelling issues. I’m wondering about their pronunciations, too. I’ve never understood why "gyro" is pronounced “yee-ro.” And what is with all the French fries all over all the food??

10 March 2010 (Wednesday #5) – Delphi day

At the Delphi Archaeological Museum

After trekking up the Sacred Way to the Temple of Apollo (and even higher for one of us), Conrad and I ended our visit to the ruins of Ancient Delphi by visiting the Delphi Archaeological Museum. Here’s what it looks like on a non-rainy day:

Since today was a rainy day, I obviously did not take this photo, but had to borrow it from the Internet. The museum has 15 rooms that are generally arranged chronologically, with some themed exhibits included. Our photos are not in any order. 

There is one major difference between the statues in a museum in Greece and in, say, Italy. The Greek statues are more likely to wear clothes. I like that when I’m standing with one of my kids, staring at a statue. 

Below are some examples of Ancient Clothed People:

Interesting that sometimes their clothes survived for centuries, while the statues were buried underground, but their heads did not fare so well.

I didn’t bother to remember what the above statues are. I was still pouting about my one glove that went missing and the fact that both gloves were ugly.

Sometimes even the statue’s body didn’t survive:

I’m guessing they want us to think they found two feet, hence the lump on the left. It’s a good thing I’m not an archeologist, because if I were and if I dug up that lump, I would have identified it as a lump and pitched it.

Here we have the marble Sphinx of Naxos (circa 560 BC), sitting on an Ionic (gasp!) column:

It’s huge; it’s over 30 feet in height!

Fragments of a burnt chryselephantine statue, that some think depicts Apollo:

Chryselephantine is the technical term given to a type of cult statue that enjoyed high status in Ancient Greece. Such statues had a wooden frame with ivory for the skin and sheets of gold leaf representing the garments, hair, and other details.

A cylix (circa 470 BC) showing Apollo with a crown on his head, playing his lyre, offering a libation, and looking like a sissy girl.

A cylix is a shallow bowl with two horizontal handles projecting from the sides. It is often set upon a stem terminating in a foot, and it’s used as a drinking cup. Such an odd drinking cup.

Drawing of what the Treasury of the Athenians might have looked like:

Metopes (square spaces in a Doric frieze) from near the top of the Treasury of the Athenians:

A horse missing its legs with a rider missing everything but his legs:

The guy was riding side-saddle? 

Bronze incense burner:

The Bronze Athletes (circa 450 BC):

Here's another, even more famous, pair of guys; they're the Kouros Statues (circa 580 BC):

These guys are known as Kleovis and Biton (or Viton), which makes me think of Beavis and Butthead. Excuse me. Supposedly, the two boys heroically pulled their mother on her chariot to the sanctuary (a distance of about 5 miles) where she was to worship. Then that same night they died peacefully in their sleep, according to Herodotus, a Greek historian. The statues are tall, each being over 20 feet in height.

I sort of took this photo of Beavis, I mean, Kleovis and Biton from the Internet, because mine didn't work. Also, I seem to have doctored it (and some other photos here), because this is (usually) a family-friendly blog. (Do you think their friends called them Beavis and Butthead? Such thoughts take my mind off my gloves.)

The Three Dancers on an Acanthus Column (in a back-to-back triangle):

This statue of three young dancing women is a column carved from high-grade marble. Acanthus leaves are on the bottom, hence the name of the statue. This was an Athenian offering to the Athenian sanctuary in the 4th century BC. Originally it had a tripod on the top, that was supported by the women’s heads, and on the tripod rested a bronze cauldron.

To the right of the dancing girls is our happy tour guide for the day. As I said earlier, all our tour guides spoke several languages. They also all heavily emphasized the final consonant of every English word.

Top half (so I don’t have to get out the fig leaves again) of the statue of Hagias, an athlete:

This is a marble copy of a bronze statue made in 340 BC.

Statues in front of a blown-up photo from the archeological excavations in Delphi:

Archaeological research in Delphi began in 1860 by Germans. In 1891, the Greek government granted the French School at Athens permission for long-term excavations on the site. The French School and the Greeks are still doing the excavations.

Here’s the omphalos (center or navel) of the earth:

This sacred object was located in the Temple of Apollo. It was viewed only by the priests and priestess who had access to the Adyton chamber of the temple

I’m confused, because I thought the thing we saw on the ground midway up the Sacred Way was THE omphalos. Perhaps the earth has two navels? The parts of this one don’t seem to fit together very well.

[pause for research . . .] I just read that the omphalos in the museum is a Hellenistic or Roman copy of the stone that was believed to have marked the place above which Zeus’ eagles met. Who knew people made copies of navels?

This column stump thing (circa 2nd century BC) is the remains of a low relief altar from the Sanctuary of Athena Pronaia:

The priestesses were hanging up offerings brought by the people.

Top half of a cult statue of Antinous (a.k.a. Antinoos, Antinoüs):

A cult statue is an image of a divinity that served in antiquity as a focal point for worship and cult rituals. They were usually housed in temples or shrines.

To tell you the truth, Antinous was not a divinity. Instead, he was, uh, the beloved companion (much beloved!) of the Emperor Hadrian. In 130 AD according to Hadrian, “Antinous was drowned in the Nilus.” The Nilus was the Nile River in Egypt. It is not known whether his death were the result of accident, suicide, murder, or religious sacrifice. Nevertheless, the grieving emperor decreed Antinous’ deification (i.e., proclaimed him a god). Cities were founded in his name, medals struck with his effigy, statues erected to him, and temples built for his worship in all parts of the empire.

Here’s a photo from the museum showing the unearthing of the above statue of Antinous in 1893: 

Taa-Daa! This is possibly the most celebrated artwork in the Delphi Museum. It’s the Charioteer of Delphi (also known as Heniokhos, the rein-holder):

By the way, the woman on the stool in the background to the left is a museum security person. The museum has lots of such people in regular, everyday clothes sitting and standing around . . . staring. All the museums we visited in Greece let us take photos except one. Since we couldn’t use flash inside the museums, most of the photos I took in the museums look yellow. Or maybe it’s my cataracts.

Anyway, this bronze statue originally belonged to a larger group, which represented a chariot with four horses (or maybe six) from which only small fragments survived. It was made from six separate cast parts. The statue was dedicated to Apollo by Polyzalos, the tyrant of Gela, in 478 BC, after he (Polyzalos) won the chariot-race at the Pythian Games. 

Conrad and I got a lot of laughs from this statue. First, we admired the imagination of the archeologists who unearthed it. Here is a diagram of the charioteer with the only other parts of the statue (besides the charioteer) that were found:

From these few parts, how did they determine how the rest of the statue looked? I would have tossed some of those parts had I been an archeologist.

The other funny part about this statue is that it’s from the Severe Period. The sculpture depicts the driver of the chariot race at the moment when he presents his chariot and horses to the spectators in recognition of his victory. Despite the joyfulness of the moment, the youth's demeanor looks downright sour. That’s because the sculpture was done in the Severe Period, when everyone was made to look, well, severe. Conrad and I liked that a lot. (We have the same sense of humor; our tour guide did not.)

Since the charioteer looks so harsh, how did the archeologists know he was the victor of the race? By the holes in his head. (Well, no wonder he had a severe look. You’d look severe, too, if someone drilled holes in your head.) The holes were used by the sculptor to attach a laurel wreath on his head, the laurel wreath being the sign of victory. (In real life I think they just set the laurel wreath on the victor’s head without drilling any holes.)

Finally, here are some scale models showing what the Temple of Apollo at the top of the Sacred Way looked like:

The amphitheater is visible in the top left in both photos, behind the Temple. I’m visible above the whole thing here:

10 March 2010 (Wednesday #4) – Delphi day

(still!) At the Ruins of Ancient Delphi

While I was sloshing down the Delphi mountain, I heard another tour guide tell her people that red marble is even more slippery than the rest. Trust me, it’s ALL slippery, especially when it’s wet. Our Delphi photos may not show it, but most of the Sacred Way was composed of marble.

Since one hand of my hands was busy holding my umbrella over my head, the other hand was in charge of taking photos on the way down. However, the photo-taking hand couldn’t get my camera case out of my bigger bag, open the camera case, get the camera out, and turn the camera on all by itself. So, I cleverly left the top of my bigger bag unzipped a little. I put my camera in the opening and covered it with one of my gloves. Now the photo-taking hand was ready to whip out the camera at a moment’s notice and take photos in the storm.

Meanwhile Conrad made it to (the remains of) the renowned Sanctuary of Apollo, home of the all-knowing Oracle of Delphi in Ancient Greece. He took all the photos (except the last one) on this post.

Here is what is left of a corner of the Sanctuary (or Temple) of Apollo:

After Apollo (the sun god) killed the serpent Python (son of Mother Earth and guardian of Delphi's sacred Castalian Spring), he then established an oracle at the spring, promising to provide counsel to all who needed it. Located at the navel of the world and personally blessed by Apollo, Delphi was the holiest site in the world for the Ancient Greeks.

Here’s a view from the side of the remaining columns of the Temple of Apollo:

Here’s a view from the back of the Temple of Apollo, looking toward mountains and valleys in the distance:

The Delphic oracle had quite a small sanctuary on a steep slope of mountain ledge under the cliffs of Parnassos.

Originally the Temple of Apollo had six columns at the front and 15 columns on the sides. Little remains of the columns. While some of the foundation has survived, not much is known about the temple’s interior arrangement.

Conrad (dripping wet) in front of the ruins of the Temple of Apollo:

In ancient times it was believed that Apollo spoke through his oracle, who was a sibyl or priestess. She was an older woman of blameless character who was chosen from among the area peasants. She sat on a stool over an opening in the earth. Fumes (that were intoxicating) from (a decomposing body [gross!] in) the opening would arise and put the sibyl into a trance. Then Apollo would possess her spirit and prophesy through her. Her ravings were translated by the priests of the temple.

People consulted the Oracle at Delphi for everything, from personal affairs to public policy, from small daily matters to major undertakings like wars. For example, people would travel from all over Greece to the priestess to ask questions like, “Will our baby be a boy or girl?” The priestess would receive a message from Apollo. The priests would translate it to the parents as, say, “boy no girl,” which the prospective parents might take as, say, “boy, no girl.” However, if they had a girl and came back to complain, the priests would say the people hadn’t understood. What the priests had told them was, “Boy no, girl.” It was all about the comma.

Here’s another example of this duality of meaning. A warrior about to go to battle was told, "You will go you will return not in the battle you will perish." This can be interpreted two different ways, depending on where the comma was placed. If a comma were placed after the word "not," the message was discouraging for the warrior. If, on the other hand, the comma were placed before the word "not," then the warrior was to return alive.

I doubt the Ancient Greeks had commas, but rather they showed with their voices where the commas would go. Likewise, the camcorder had not been invented, so those receiving a wrong message could not go back with a video to prove what they’d been told. The power of punctuation was no more foolish than a woman sitting over fumes. It was a crazy time in history.

Views from above the Temple of Apollo:

These were taken after Conrad reached the end of the Sacred Way at the Temple of Apollo and was continuing up the path to the theater.

The Delphi Theater:

The theater was constructed from local Parnassos limestone. Like the theater in Epidaurus, it was an open-air structure that took advantage of sloping hillsides for its terraced seating. Music, poetry recitation, and dramatic re-enactments of mythical stories were performed here. Ancient Greek theaters were often located in or near sanctuaries (i.e., temples), because they were very much a part of religious pilgrimages. This theater could hold 5,000 people.

Even though it was raining, Conrad intended to go to the mountain-top stadium located further up the mountain, beyond the Sacred Way and the theater. But it was closed on this day due to rain (i.e., slippery marble) and FALLING ROCKS. Ha.

The Delphi Stadium was used for the Delphic, or Pythian, Games, a forerunner of the modern Olympic Games. They were held every four years, with athletes coming from all over Greece. The stadium seated about 6,500 spectators.

Since Conrad could not tour the stadium, he came back down the Sacred Way:

Look at the vertical lines on the photo; they are from the rain pouring down:

(All photos are clickable to enlarge.)

Before going to the museum, Conrad stopped to drink water here near the beginning of the Sacred Way:

The water comes from the Castalian Spring. All people visiting Delphi for religious purposes in ancient times and even the athletes were required to purify themselves in the clear, but icy, waters of the Castalian Spring. Purifying included washing one’s hair in the spring water. The Oracle would also drink and wash there before making her pronouncements.

Centuries later the British poet Lord Byron plunged into the spring, inspired by the belief that the waters would enhance one's poetic spirit.

The area of the spring is now closed off, but a channel filled with water running from the spring comes out to the above pathway. I wonder if Conrad drank the water as preparation for proclaiming a prophecy or writing a poem.

While Conrad was descending the Sacred Way and drinking (possibly parasite-laden) water, I was in the museum freaking out about my glove that had been on top of my camera in my bag to protect the camera while I descended the Sacred Way. It was such a nice glove. Since it was black, brown, and gray, it went with every coat I own.

After sliding around on slippery marble and fighting the school crowds to get inside the museum, I noticed my glove was no longer on my camera. Conrad showed up at the museum about that time.

Since I was sure I’d dropped it (who would steal one glove?), Conrad ran in the rain all the way back to the top end of the Sacred Way to look for it. He was such a good son. He didn’t find it, though. Just as I was starting to mourn its loss deeply, he told me it was the ugliest pair of gloves he’d ever seen. He’s such a rude son.

How embarrassing to wear such ugly gloves for years! And no one ever told me!! The one remaining glove right before it hit the trash:

Good-bye, ugly glove.