Hurry up and wait

Tom overlooking the main port on Koufonisia.

It's day three of our island adventure here on Koufonisia - one of four small islands making up the Greek Cyclades. After nearly twenty hours spent in transit following a tumultuous morning of running, haggling, and waiting around, we were more than relieved to set foot on terra firma.

The place is, in a word, idyllic. There isn't really any other way to describe it. The weather is great, if a touch too warm. The people are friendly. And the scenery is straight out of a Conde Nast travel spread. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop; I half expect the set director to stroll onto the beach and instruct us to head over to stage 3 to shoot the rest of the dinner montage.

Being here has been good for our spirits, especially when you consider where we came from. Like Rome, nearly everything in Athens seems to be in disrepair. The city itself stretches for miles in every direction. With a population pushing 4 million, it gives sprawl a whole new meaning. By contrast, the island has just under four hundred permanent residents making it substantially less dense and, consequently, less commercialized. Thanks to the ferry strikes we've been blessed with an extra two days here, after which we'll head to Santorini. And the truth is I'm already missing it.

One of our many seafood dinners. This one was a particularly large one.

Odyssey

It’s a different kind of heat on Koufonissia,
sea-tempered, those same waves
Odysseus clipped when rolling around
the Mediterranean making a name for himself.
The only colors in our pallette are
blue and white: the sky and salt, blood
before it leaves the body and the color your
skin turns right afterward.

Not that we don’t try to
fight it with suntans
or making each other blush,
we just know what’s hopeless,
that there should be any other way
to live than momentarily and indefinitely,
all else forgotten in the translucent
shallows of a crumbling city by the sea.

They tell me pictures are worth a thousand words

The Parthenon

Given the late hour and the little forethought I am putting into this, I think a quick series of pictures will suffice as my first blog post. I have taken 650 photos documenting the trip thus far and probably should share them.

We are currently in Koufonisia, a small island in the Little Cyclades. Population is 366. After a horrendously long day trying to get from Athens to this island yesterday (either the boat had mechanical problems or there was a strike), we decided to recuperate by living the idyllic island lifestyle. We all woke up sometime between 11 and 12, ate a long and leisurely lunch, and then meandered to Pori, a cove with a quiet beach about 3km away, where we swam, read, and relaxed the rest of the day. Wrap up the day by watching the Brazil v. Chile game in an open-air bar over some beers and dessert and you've got a pretty excellent summer day, no?

Here are some photos of our time in Greece so far:

Plaka (Athens) - Plaka was the neighbourhood by the Acropolis where Ron, Zhi, and I spent most of our day in Athens. Although rife with cheesy tourist shops, you have to admit they had a lot of very entertaining tshirts. Zhi liked the Oedipus one. I thought the Calvin and Hobbes one was very fitting for Jordan.

Piraeus (Athens) - We run to the pier to make our 7:25am boat, only to find out it has been cancelled. We find out the next boat leaves at 5:30pm, which means we won't reach Koufonisia until 2am. Here, the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed Ron sits with our bags as Tom and Jordan figure out the ferry situation.

Koufonisia - All the buildings in this small town are white-washed with blue shutters and doors. The colourful bougainvillea add a brilliant contrast. I guess all those cheesy tourist pictures of Greece were real.

Koufonisia - Right before Piros. The water really is as blue as the pictures! Oh, and nude beaches aren't just a French thing.

Koufonisia - Heading to dinner by the sea at sunset. With views like this, it's no wonder all of us were happy to stay another 2 days here since there might be a ferry strike tomorrow which will prevent us from getting to Folegrandros.

P.S.: Since a picture is worth a thousand words, I should get props for having the highest word count compared to Ron and Zhi.

The Heart of the Delian League

This post summarizes our explorations in the city of Athens.

My inner Classicist (as I can now claim some authority in, with a B-fucking-A in Classical Studies) insists that I give you a small history lesson. I am particularly awed by the fact that I have actually come to the center of the ancient Mediterranean world.

We arrived in Athens late at night on Saturday, June 26th. Landing in the airport, and taking the Metro to Syntagma and switching lines to Sygrou-Fix, we immediately recognized the superiority of the Athenian transportation services when compared to Rome. Most of this is of course because of the 2004 Olympics, which forced Athens to vastly improve all aspects of the city and its infrastructure. The trains were modern and very clean, and signage was a vast improvement over Rome. The vast majority of people we have encountered up till now have also been much nicer, hospitable, and English-speaking.

We made our way a few blocks from Sygrou-Fix station to our accommodation, a hostel called Marble House, where the owner/receptionist was very helpful and let us use his free wifi. Dinner was at a small place around the corner where the waiter was also the cook, and what looked like his father also helped to serve us when he wasn't playing some kind of Flash-based SimCity/Civilizations game on his laptop at the bar.

After dinner, Natasha and I made our way to the Acropolis. This Acropolis belongs to Athens. There are many acropoleis like it, but this one is theirs. It was a 15-20 minute walk away from the hostel, through a typical Greek neighborhood past many shops and boutiques, bars, cafes, and a few supermarkets and convenience stores. We could tell when we were approaching the Acropolis because things started becoming touristy one block before the actual site (the entire sidewalk lined with cafes gave it away).

Seeing the Acropolis at night was a magnificent treat. An acropolis, translated into English as "citadel", is any fortress built upon a rise in any ancient city. There are many acropoleis in many ancient cities - but the Athenian acropolis is known without qualification as The Acropolis. Wikipedia can tell you more, but it gains this distinction as being one of the most ancient and important sites in the world. The Athenian Acropolis is built upon a small raised plateau (really a very large rock), with steep sides and fortified walls. During the night, the entire Acropolis is closed to the public, but it is lit up with giant floodlights. Here's a picture that does extremely poor justice to the wonder:


You can barely see the lit-up Parthenon in the background, on top of the plateau. Unfortunately, we do not possess the photography equipment to capture a good image of the scene at night. Once again... ... you shall have to see for yourself, one day.

A regular afternoon deteriorates

Warning: British spelling may be used in this post. If encountered, simply continue as if nothing happened.
Note: Actual pictures taken from our frivolous escapades will be uploaded as soon as is feasible*.

We awoke this morning to the nefarious clamour of middle-aged Italian men dressed less stylishly than the stereotype of Italian men (from Italy) demands. Surely the incessant noise was either because they were busy chatting up the waitress at the Kopa Kabana Gelateria across the street, or because they felt compelled to tear across the medieval paving stones on their Vespas. In a word, cacophony.

With the exception of one Jordan Andrew Hurwich, we left relatively early and decided to visit the Duomo, an exquisite cathedral constructed entirely of white and black marble (pictures forthcoming, but for now this is fine). Highlights include a myriad of inlaid marble engravings all over the floor of the cathedral, statues of the Apostles towering over the mortals on the ground level, and a room with vellum hymnals, decorated with particularly fine line and paintwork, and generous helpings of gold.

Sienese Swallows

Arclight
& dashing
strength in numbers:
quiet little voices
on the border of the seen.
The elegant tail two lanes
diverging on the highways of Tuscany.
The parabolic wings flex and sing
to keep the body aloft.
And every one part of the teem:
small ghosts around the duomo’s roof
and sky’s rafters.

Of Towns and Townsfolk

I pen these thoughts upon the eve of our departure from Volterra.

Having first come into the city from Rome, we were marvelously delighted at the change of pace and the change of scenery. No more hurtling Smart© Cars to dodge in the midst of scooters and motorbikes. No more angry waiters trying to rob us in broad daylight. No more throngs of tourists. But still plenty of gelato, for which Natasha in particular was very grateful.

Having gotten lost the moment we drove to Volterra, we consulted the nearest shopkeeper at the Enoteca Scalia in what appeared to be some type of town piazza (square). His name is Massimo and he is such a G. He gave us complete directions to the seminary we were going to stay at (right at the gas station, past the hospital), gave us a recommendation for dinner (La Vecchia Lira, up the street, you'll see it), and Ron and I felt so touched by his generosity and kindness that we had to buy a Chianti. So we did.

The Eternal City Day 2: A Bunch of Really Old Shit

Today was cultural overload day.

Rising early in the morning, we departed for the Villa Borghese (pronounced bor-gay-zay), what was once a large mansion, supposedly belonging to a Cardinal, but is now a nice museum. Taking the metro from Pyramide, we switch from the blue line to the orange line at Termini, and make our way to Spagna.

The museum contains a huge collection of paintings and sculptures. The weather is very warm, and we thankfully enter the darker cool of the interior.

The majority of the paintings in the Villa Borghese concern scenes from the Bible, stories about Catholic Saints, and Greek or Roman myths. I can't tell you anything about the Saints, but common Biblical scenes included the birth, death and resurrection of Jesus. My favorites were of course the classical scenes - Leda and the Swan, Venus and Adonis, and sadly a myriad of other fantastic ones that I cannot remember.

The sculptures are particularly amazing - the collection includes a few Bernini originals, by far the most impressive sculptures we have so far seen on our trip (I write this on June 28th). The most impressive by far was entitled "The Rape of Proserpina". Propserpina, also known as Kore or Persephone, was once kidnapped (archaic: rape) by Hades and brought to the underworld. I hope we have a picture to show you, this one is a real treat. This statue is famous for Bernini's rendering of Hades' hands grasping Persephone's flesh. You won't believe this thing is made of marble:






Hades carrying Persephone away as he tries to kidnap her. Notice the flowing hair and Cerberus.














Hades's hands grabbing Persephone's thigh. I think she has a rather exquisite rear.

The Eternal City, Day 1: American Pizza

We arrive late at night. The night air smells like car exhaust.

Trudging our weary way to the train station, we conveniently forget to validate our tickets before boarding and almost get fined €50 per ticket. We mutter incoherently to ourselves under our breath and half-heartedly curse the lack of proper signage. For some reason, the train only opens its doors on the right side, even though it has platforms on both sides. An entire hoard of fools, ourselves included, blindly follow the left platform only to be greeted by disappointment and frustration.

Rome is adorable.

Roman Holiday

We finally arrived at the apartment after a grueling day's travel. It's a stone's throw away from a giant pyramid. But like everything else in Rome, it's been totally neglected by time and the Romans don't even seem to notice. Our apartment is sparse and aging, but comfortable. Almost nothing works as it's supposed to. A perfect metaphor for the city, really. The bathroom is a total mystery. We took two days worth of cold showers before we figured out how to work the heat. Also, toilets (like cars) are shrunken, almost cartoonish versions of their American counterparts. This one happens to be about a foot from the wall it faces meaning you need to sit at a sharp angle or you won't sit at all.

On our first day we headed to the local café to have breakfast like the Italians do - at the bar and in a hurry. Which reminds me: Romans drink coffee compulsively. To an outsider, it seems like that's about all they consume. Well, that and cured meats. In fact, it's still not clear to me what a proper Italian diet is supposed to consist of. It seems like they figured out dinner, got tired, and decided to scrap the first two meals, calling it a day.

Afternoon in Dublin

Five friends spent the
scant hours between coming from
one place and going to the next
practicing transience:
they are young
one stands on the grass of an
ouroboros and the others wonder
if she should do that, they
weren’t allowed to walk on the
green of Trinity College,
only admire. What
is the weight of a city?
It’s grit or history?
The bus driver’s jokes?
This castle was built eight hundred years
ago to keep out the Vikings.
That spire was erected five years
ago to show what men can do.
The friends wander trying to find a
bar, someplace atmospheric.
The rain threatens but holds.
Soon it will not be this way,
they will step from the edge of
time, build houses, grow old.
They walk back toward the bus station
to leave and cross the river,
humming silent and heavy
as a churchyard beneath.

Departures

We've just made it through JFK's baggage check for Aer Lingus flight 108 to Dublin. So far so good. The airline workers are unexpectedly cheery, dressed in a spirited emerald green (presumably) to match the plane decor, which I'm about to discover looks not unlike a flying shamrock from the outside. Before long I'm rushing to security, scarfing down fries and a burger along the way. Dinner lasts a grand total of 2 minutes, dispatching what's left of my McSupper into one of those large, nondescript trash cans usually reserved for liquid contraband like shampoo. Handing my passport to the TSA screener, I'm asked "Lakers or Celtics?" in what I realize will be the last conversation I'll have with an American apart from the gang for the next five weeks.

With tray tables and seat backs up, it's official. Day 0 of our long, freewheeling tour of the world... at least a part of it anyway. In seven and a half hours we'll land in Dublin, staying just long enough for coffee, lunch, and a pint. Our real destination is Rome, however, where we'll begin a week-long tour of the capital and surrounding countryside. Italy is the first of five stops on our trip. The rest - Greece, Turkey, Japan, and China - will follow, more or less a week per country. In our attempt to document the experience, we hope to update this blog with frequent postings about where we are and what we're up to. With any luck, at least one of us will post something from every country, if not every city. That said, internet is notoriously fickle in Europe so we'll just have to play it by ear. But in the meantime, let us say welcome and looking forward to your comments!