Hidden Jewels

"If you aren't sure of who you are, you might as well work on who you want to be"

No Friday seems complete without a six hour bus ride; this time around on the agenda was a visit to the sites of Meteora and Metsovo. Of course, as with all stories, the twist in the plot can happen at any and at many moments. The first such surprise was a stop at the historic and popular site of Thermopylae. The site of the epic battle between the Spartans and the Persians, the site recreated in the movie 300, and the site where the fates of those involved changed so dramatically that they would be remembered for all eternity.

It was a ten feet wide path on the ground, with shrubs and weeds on either side.

Anti-climactic to say the least, the actual ground where the battle raged was a small hot spring surrounded by open land, and a few statues and effigies put in place to commemorate the honorable men who fought so valiantly. Plus there was the road-side gas station to add a little razzle and dazzle. To be fair, the story of what really happened during the three days when Greece’s destiny was being shaped was recounted marvelously by one of the accompanying professors. He went on – without a pause – to describe the circumstances of the battle, the evidence highlighting the actual events on the ground, the technical aspects of the fight, and the scene in the country afterwards. If only information learned in class stayed ingrained in the memory that well. A favorite was definitely an engraved epitaph on a dedicatory stone placed on the burial mound of the Spartans – on the hill where the last of them died. It romantically reads to the fortuitous wanderer:

“Stranger, announce to the Spartans, that here we lie, having fulfilled their orders”.

Of course, Leonidas – the Spartan King, and the seven hundred Thespians who so faithfully joined them both have their own monuments and entertaining inscriptions as well. The trinity of remembrance at the site is touching, and compensates for the not-so-overwhelmingly-spectacular scene of the front line.

This is SPARTA!

Onward we rode, until we abruptly stopped in front of a view that was nothing short of miraculous. Meteora is one of the largest and most important complexes of Eastern Orthodox monasteries in Greece. Each is lodged precariously atop natural sandstone pillar-like rock formations. It was beautiful not just for the view, but for the brilliantly constructed spaces of worship. There are six monasteries actively in operation, and we managed to visit four of them. The first one – St. Steven’s – was built in the 16^th century and was damaged by the Nazis who believed it harbored insurgents. It was taken over and reconstructed by nuns who now call it home.

Each monastery is built according to strict functional specifications: the central courtyard, the isolated living quarters at the edge, the storage basements, and most importantly, the Katholikon – the main area of prayer.

The Katholikon is the most intricately designed and well-kept part, and is divided into three principle sections, all facing East (one of the many features reminiscent of pagan Hellenism). The esonarthex (outer-most hall) is the entrance way with wooden pews for people to half-kneel or stand. The walls are covered with motifs and depictions of biblical scenes, martyrdom illustrations, and themes of the Orthodox Church. Much of the decoration is gilded with gold, especially portrayals of divine or holy figures.

The next day saw us pilgrimaging to three more monasteries. The grandest of them all beckoned from afar: The Great Meteoron was built in the 14^th century and was initially only accessible by ladders and nets that hoisted wary and terrified travelers up to the top. Only in the last century was this remedied with steps cut into the rock, although it would have been exhilarating to fly up three hundred meters or so with only a single net and rope ensuring your survival (and God’s will too, of course, as the priest remarked). In any case, we crossed the bridge into another realm; the sheer scale and impressive aura of this monastery leave many speechless. Not a bad place to spend the rest of your life in solitary devotion.

Courtyard for the monks to gather, work, and pray

Here, as in the others, the Katholikon’s outer hall leads into the more sacred esonarthex (inner chamber) where services are held. Icons are kissed, chests are crossed, and candles are lit, as one enters this most interesting lair. The floor is always in the shape of a Greek Cross – with both arms of equal length – and the dome sits directly above the middle, with Jesus in the middle and his Apostle’s and angels surrounding him. Everything inside is symbolic of the rituals, beliefs, and history of the religion. By far the most aesthetically fascinating feature is all the hand-carved wood that adorns the Eastern most wall that leads into the kathedra (episcopal throne). The fact that in antiquity people had to rely on the Church and corresponding artwork to glean information and knowledge speaks to the importance of sophisticated artistic rendering; it was like reading a story on the walls.

Surprisingly, there is quite a bit of competition among all the active monasteries, with each community eager to demonstrate why theirs is the most legitimate. Varlaam is the second largest and was built in the 16^th century. After passing through the outer chamber, into the inner narthex , what comes next is the kathedra (episcopal throne) where none but the Bishop or head of the religious service may enter. Veiled with a velvet barrier to discern the degree of divinity within, it is opened only during a service. After marveling yet again at the iconography and mystic of the Katholikon, we headed out to the courtyard where the Abbot – or the spiritual head of the monastery – consented to talk to us and have our professor translate so we could gain a deeper understanding of how he and the other monks lived.

He described their attitudes towards foreigners: on the one hand, tourists who simply come to “see and look around” are frustrating to them and they have no desire to interact with people who do not understand what they represent. On the other hand, individuals that come to discover some aspect of their own spirituality, or those who come to appreciate and learn about the ways of Orthodox Christian monks are always welcome, and they willingly accept them into their community, even if only temporarily.

Ascend this you shall, and glory you shall have

As with the other three monasteries, the last one, Roussanou, is built similarly, although smaller in size. There are only three and a half nuns who live there. Three full time sisters, with one coming in-and-out as her health permits; they run the entire place, maintain working hours for visitors, and pray constantly. “We never stop being in constant mindfulness of Him” said the one vestal who sat outside the exonarthex painting and inscribing stones with peoples’ names as souvenirs. Even if the trip did not result in anyone deciding to give up everything and become an ascetic or monk, it was eye-opening in many respects. To contemplate how and why these souls decided to take the path they did, to acknowledge that they were entitled to their beliefs about the world, and to imagine trying to adapt to their situation to fully comprehend the meaning behind their lives – it was refreshing to experience a different side of Greece, away from the crazy traffic, the excessive presence of stray animals, the hustle and bustle of tourists in Syntagma, midnight runs to the bakery for the next morning's bread, and much more.

The night was spent in Kalambaka, the closest town to the monasteries. With one huge street to explore, dinner at a leisurely taverna consisted of the usual fare. The success of the night however, was wandering the streets by the two fountains and chancing upon an old-school café-bar in which we decided to pass some more of the night away. Wonders of wonders, I opened the menu to discover it was a chocolate café-bar. It couldn't have gotten any better (which it did, shortly afterwards) – I extravagantly ordered xocolatl: the Mayan dark chocolate drink laced with ginger, chili pepper, and hazelnut. The owner of the bar graciously (more amusedly than generously I think) added a side of caramel ice-cream to go with it. It was simply divine, and hit the spot. I would not stop raving about it for the rest of the night, until I found something else to rave about. The hotel we stayed at had a free massage chair to use at our disposal. I called it “pure heaven” – the priest who was with us cracked up for a good ten minutes.

Multiple sessions in that chair made for a very happy group. We packed up our things and bade farewell to the little town and the majestic monasteries that adorned the view as we drove out. The weekend wasn't even close to over, as we arrived soon after in the picturesque town of Metsovo.

Wish it never had to end

Birthplace of many prominent Greek benefactors to the nation, Metsovo has a population of just under 4,000 people. It is famous for its wines, cheeses, meats, and ski resorts. After much experimentation and investigation, the first three are decidedly true. We hoped off the bus and into what seemed like a town in a different country. Easily paralleled with Scotland, France, or even northern Italy for that matter, the town has a life of its own with a unique landscape of the Pindos mountains (the largest mountain range in Greece). Deep red terracotta roof tiles, white-washed houses that seemed to delve below the ground and under roads, and evergreen pine trees truly encompassed the spirit of Fall in Greece.

Apollon Hotel was our residence for the night, and seemed to have come right out of a glamorous winter bed-and-breakfast catalogue. The wood and log-cabin like interior was the perfect cozy setting that we were looking for after the long bus journey. Known especially for their wood carving and handicraft skills, the town offered many antiques and trinkets to collect. I brushed up on my superior bargaining skills and acquired baubles to expand my ever-growing mass of gifts for everyone back home. We headed to a taverna to satisfy our appetites; it had a fire pit in the middle of it to keep us warm from the chilly mountain air. Needless to say, we fully approved of the distinguished honor people ascribe to the wide selection of meat, cheese and wine they boast of. It was all delicious, and extremely reasonably priced.

We retired to the verandah of the hotel for the night– sharing stories, chocolate, pictures, and cigars. It was quality bonding at its best as we got to know some others in the group better and fondly remarked at how wonderful our experiences so far have been. Unfortunately, with no massage chair to keep me up, we said goodnight, reluctant to leave the next afternoon.

Before the adventure was over however, we were treated to impromptu attendance at the local Sunday Church service. Having never been to an Orthodox service before, it was enlightening. The service was unlike any other Christian mass, with different levels of formal customs and informal gathering. There was a lot of singing, a lot of movement, and a lot of children. They were everywhere, and they were adorable.

We learned in class that Greek Orthodoxy is not so much a religion as it is an ethnic identifier. Life revolves around the beliefs and superstitions imposed centuries ago by the dominant religion. Symbols like warding off “the eye” (the evil one), kissing anything remotely revered or venerated (like they kiss the icons in Church), calling upon Mary to resolve all problems (instead of simply the Virgin Mary, she is primarily associated as the Mother Mary), are all obvious indicators of how faith and culture have historically been intertwined. Even subtle signs like extravagant displays of hospitality, desires of men to act “manly”, protective and be able to provide,  the traditional long skirts worn by older women, and the almost “mandatory” siesta (the one complained about least) can all be traced back to some religious aspect or another. Where the majority (97%) of the population identifies with the Eastern Orthodox Church, it is analogous with Hinduism in India or Christianity in America: where, to a large extent, the religion comes to represent the culture, and/or vice-versa.

Once again, we were fortunate enough to be invited for coffee, tea and sweets by the Abbot who talked to us about his faith, the community, his perception about life, and how as the young generation, we “should seize every opportunity we have to make our world a better place forever”. It was very kind of him, and we also had the chance to interact with a few locals who told us tales about the village, the history of the Church we visited, and urged us to “eat more fried cheese”.Before heading back, we made one last stop at the Folk Art Museum which is actually the former home of one of the richest families in Greece. The mansion was huge, and stands testament to the traditional Greek ideal home with the hearth in the middle, one huge sleeping room, a separate men’s parlous, and riches after riches decorating the walls and shelves. It was plush, even by modern standards, and was very educational in terms of learning more about traditional life within the private sphere of the household – a very very very rich household.

Ideas for interior decoration?

It was the perfect end to a perfect weekend. Allowing us to be pensive and introspective, we explored a part of Greece that not many people decide to. Always striving to find the hidden jewels in life, Meteora and Metsovo are definitely two of the brightest ones. Now more than ever, with the semester being halfway through, it is hard not to think about everything that has happened over the past few years and how everything has played out. No matter how things turn out, people always desire to make sense of the world around them, yearn to make any situation into the most favorable one, and hope to make happiness a part of their lives. Its just like the Abbot after the Church service stated:

“Certain events happened in my life, without me knowing, that led me to where I am today. I did not see it, but [maybe] it was all part of [a] plan. I am happy [to be here speaking with you] now”