We finally arrived at Delphi, the site of the oracle, that voice of prophecy that echoes through so much of Greek mythology.  We met our local guide, who I recognized from our previous trip--she is rather a celebrity, the force behind much of the expansion and recovery of this site for the public (she has even been in a History channel show about Delphi).  Wish I remembered her name...Someone?


She led us through the lower levels of the temple sites, before letting us explore on our own.  As before, she talked about how difficult the choices archaeologists have to make here--to reveal one layer of culture, often means burrowing through other layers.  So some of what is here has been opened for us.  But the whole valley had, at various times, been part of the oracle's complex.

Here, a bit of one of the 'treasuries,' the place where a region/king would donate/display his donations.


And here, the stone currently placed to represent the omphalos, the navel, the center of the world....


Here, our guide shows us a book of overlays, to help try to envision what this might have looked like, once upon a time--including all the colorful paint the Greeks used on what they considered too-plain marble.


Some views down on the temple of Apollo, and the valley beyond...






Here a theater in honor of Dionysus, curious since Dionysus and Apollo can sometimes be seen as opposites...



Me...

and Michelle...

Some of the columns they have restored...

A block of stone.  But notice the number.  Pretty much every rock here has been numbered and accounted for, as the pros continue to piece it all together.


And here a cypress tree, also associated with Apollo, through the tale of Cyparissus...

A curious rock wall, pieced together, so many thousands of years ago, without mortar, just cleverly fitted...

An accidental juxtaposition, of column and tree, showing, perhaps, what the columns first represented...


and here the stone, near the entrance to the temples, where by legend perched the Delphic Sibyl...

Finally, a tree that refuses to go away.  Always life.

later, bob

On that last day in Greece, a few of us did the early bus and took off for Delphi, the site of the ancient oracle.  To be true to my developing-new profession, here's a map, with swell red marks I drew around a few key cities:


So, we took off from Athens, heading sort of NW.  It's about a 3-hour bus ride each way.  We stopped for a mid-morning snack, including spinach pie...



various pastries (I expected sweet, but these were cheese, and perhaps ham), and fortunately, neither Turkish nor Greek coffee-sludge, but a straight double expresso...



While some went straight for the baklava...



and Ericka and Steve found their namesake ice cream...



And here, a familiar logo...



But soon, back on the road, through fields not too different from Missouri, and then passing the now-small town of Thebes.  No picture from that, but let's remember our Greek drama, especially the play, Oedipus Rex.  In that tale, the King of Thebes abandoned his infact son, Oedipus, because of a prophecy from the oracle at Delphi.  The son, not eaten by wolves, was raised in Corinth, unaware he was adopted.  As a young man, he heard a whisper of this, and went to Delphi, from Corinth, to consult the oracle.  He met and unknowingly killed his father somewhere on the road between Delphi and Thebes.  Ok, look back at that map above.  The rest is gruesome mythology, and a swell theory by Freud.

Meanwhile, we slowly drove into the mountains, with the bits of modern tech decorating them...





and the clouds that would greet us, and drizzle a little later...


and then through a tiny village, where we didn't get to stop and sample the local cheese, but got to cringe as our huge tour bus edged past another huge bus, with oh, at least one whole inch to spare.





And next, Delphi...

later, bob

     After having a few weeks to reflect on everything I did in Turkey and Greece, it seems a bit surreal. It was really something I will remember forever. I feel I am a better person for having done it.
     I think what I liked the most, is the willingness of everyone that was on the trip, as well as other I met in Turkey, to talk openly about religion and spirituality. This was my first experience in a Muslim country and I must say that i liked it a hell of alot. There is a very peaceful sentiment (at least that is the way i felt) around the Islamic faith of the Turks. I learned a great deal about Islam and for that I am grateful. The mosques we visited were really the pinnacle of the trip for me, although there was alot of cool stuff that I saw, the feeling I received from, and still have attached to the Blue Mosque and the Hagia Sophia is really moving. I remember what it felt like just being there, it was great.
    I have not looked at this trip as the trip of a lifetime because it's safe to say that I will be returning to Istanbul in the near future.


     M. Calabrese

We made it to the mainland of Greece, and were not greeted by rioting masses.  However, compared to relatively wealthy Turkey, with their 1000 miles of roadside roses, well, we weren't in Turkey anymore...


But there are flashy billboards, and a bustling big city, and more little shrubs, trying really hard.


At the Parthenon, our morning excursion, we waded not only through the people, but the stray dogs.  Probably a dozen large dogs lounging on the marble steps, more or less oblivious to the crowd.




And, of course, we always warn everyone not to pet the dogs in foreign countries, because they probably haven't had shots, and may be grumpy, etc.  But here--no!  Our guide told us that because so many dogs clustered in this people place, and there was always concern for tourists who can't resist petting Greek-Rover, the tour guide association collects money from its members, has the dogs given regular vet care, and fed, on site.  The only issue is to not stumble over them. !

Through the crowds and the broiling walk to the top of hill--the hill itself is the Acropolis--and there it is, that world-known icon, the Parthenon.  With scaffolding, enduring some ongoing restoration.


Great views, out over Athens...

With a little more shade and an urn of red wine, I could have been a philosopher here, back when: "Yep, have him drink that there hemlock.  He never smiles.  Brings the whole city down.  Seen any good cyclops plays lately?"

Here, Beth and Amy being not shy...


A different view, and then the Greek flag, over a back corner...




Over on the north side of the hill is another famous structure, the Erechtheion, with its famous Caryatids...

(Though there are supposed to be six of these column/statues--these 5 are replicas, but they didn't put up the sixth, in protest for the one held hostage in--um, is it London or Berlin this time?  London, I think.  Another detail of that diplomatic exchange--much, much of the art and stonework from this hill was, um, 'liberated,' 'looted,' 'saved' by the British, who have refused, these last couple hundred years to return stuff, because the Greek musuem facilities were "inadequate."  The Greeks now have a state of the art, not full, museum just down the hill.  Still waiting. We did, meanwhile, get Keats' poems, "On Seeing the Elgin Marbles," and "Ode on a Grecian Urn" from Keats getting to view the artifacts in London.  But gosh, that was 1819...) 


And here the (representative, probably not original) olive tree that Athena gifted the city with, winning her competition with Poseidon for the city's patronage.




And here, a woman who must have been very dedicated/intrigued by this site--there are no accessibilty features to this hill that I could see...

And then, time to go back down, through the stable columns,


and always, signs of life.


And on we go...

later, bob

Just a bit more, and then back to the boat, headed to Athens.

So, I had mostly split from everyone else, and spend the afternoon eating, going to the museum, shopping, eating more...Other folks probably had much more exciting adventures that day.

I wandered down the hill, surveying places to eat.  Almost went for the 'stand outside, gyros sliced off the block,' but wound up seated at an outside table, with a "chicken pie," a Greek salad (olives, peppers, tomatoes, that big wedge of white cheese on top), olive oil, a nice local white wine...


Then two blocks to the musuem, then time for more wine at a little deli-bar amidst all the souvenir shops.  This bar specialized in American decor--an old Uncle Sam poster, American whiskey posters, and so on.  Nice to just stop and watch people go by.


Then walking again, staring at all these souvenirs I didn't buy, though some would have been fun...

I liked the horses...



Here and there, turning a corner, and there's the Aegean down below...


the second, a view of the "new" volcanic island.  Still need to go walk around there.  One guide told us a guy had gotten tired of his wife, and all humanity, and now lives there by himself.  Hope he's a good fisherman.


Some more things to buy.  Really like these large glass artworks, but I suspect they wouldn't go easily in my suitcase.





Though I did buy a couple pillow covers, that the owner swore were hand-stitched, locally.  I tended to believe him, since a rather fierce woman was there, collecting a complete set of lace table settings, at prices that rather demanded they were authentic.

And I'd passed this doorway twice, before I decided it was a warm day, and yes, I needed a tavern with a rooftop volcano view.

There, they had nice tablecloths...

and better tablecloths...

Indeed, great tablecloths...

Meanwhile, a group of American boys come in, teenage, some school uniform.  "I'm not gonna eat any of that!"  "Ok, if I can split one..."  "I should have 110 Euros, but I lost 30..." 

And then my appetizer arrived, some island specialty of some smushed yellow peas.  Great stuff.


And soon, via the magic of text-messages, Ann and the others found me, and we went down to a place by the gondola, the "approved" way back to the Old Port.  This place was nice, too.

pic

But soon, Aaron, from the other EF group, showed up, excited to ride the donkeys downhill--officially, "not encouraged," so I left my stuff with Ann and joined him on the ride down.



I did discover that the donkeys don't worry too much about scraping their passengers against the stone walls, but my donkey and I came to an agreement that when I made a LOUD scraping noise with the stirrup against stone, he would move over a bit.





Conclusion?


later, bob