The Colors of Life

"A person often meets his destiny on the road he takes to avoid it"

The train pulled into the floating station and we excitedly trickled out onto the Island of Venice. It looks nothing like how it is portrayed in the media or popular entertainment – it is infinitely more charming and pleasing to the eyes. Everything functions via water: taxis, public transport, ambulances, trade and even the postal service. With a pass for our entire visit granting us unlimited access to the ferries, we hopped onto the nearest one on the way to the Island of Lido where our hotel was. Off the south-west coast from central Venezia, Lido is 12 km long. In our opinion, it has the best pizza and the best gelato in all of Venice. After checking in and settling down we were determined to explore every inch of our ‘home Island’ that night.

Quintessential view from Rialto Bridge (overlooking where we ate dinner that night)

It was a fairly local town with hardly any tourists but huge residential complexes that probably house the rich Italian elites who escape here in the summer. Mansions rose magnificently around every corner and it was possibly the only place where we saw any real cars on the road; dozens of cafés, bars and specialty food stores beckon seductively to the lone passer-by. We ate dinner at an upscale restaurant that served the best red wine we’ve ever tasted and claimed to have over two thirds of the tables reserved for loyal patrons who would show up around 10.00pm.

It had to be done: stratiacella and hazelnut gelato completed the night. It was fudgy but creamy, sweet but not overpowering, and as close to perfection as one can hope to realize. We silently devoured each mouthful and gleefully envisioned nights and nights of endless deliciousness.

What better cultural experience than to watch a movie in a foreign language? Watching the new 007 James Bond movie in Italian without subtitles in the cozy theatre behind the crowded gelateria in Lido, Venice. It goes to show how universal our ability is to pick up on subtleties presented to all our senses – we were confident we understood more or less the finer points of the plot and were quickly proven right by the internet. A great start to a city waiting for us to befriend it; befriend it we did as we rode countless water boats, walked practically the entire central island, hopped off a boat at a random island on a whim, visited three different islands in addition to the main one, and did justice to the familiar souvenirs urging us to take them home.

This about sums up Venice: adorable and unbelievably enchanting

Starting at the very top of the Grand Canal the next day, we made our way through the busy market streets as well as the simple alleys that revealed to us people hanging out of their windows conversing with each other, hanging up their laundry in the middle of the street and cooking something that smelled inconceivably mouthwatering. We browsed the famous Rialto street market, bought Venetian masks, carnival decorations and out-of-season-strawberries. We were astounded by Piazza San Marco and the Church of St. Mark, both the principal public spaces in Venice. We ate lunch with the pigeons by the sea-side (really, it is the lagoon-side) and walked quite a ways along the coast, stopping at the Bridge of Sighs, the Navy museum, street shows and the public gardens. It was surreal: we were in Venice – the city above water, the city of romance, the city of color, and the city of magnificent architecture. The plethora of Churches and grandiose buildings glistened powerfully in the early morning dew and mist from the waters. Words are not enough to do the view justice, but maybe pictures might help.

St.Mark's Church in Piazza San Marco

Artsy snapshot of the Bridge of Sighs (made of limestone; windows provided convicts of their last view of Venice before their imprisonment)

Nonchalance is this Church's middle name. Inside we witnessed a Catholic service (the Nicene Creed) in Italian

As we tiredly but cheerfully sat down to dinner by the water, we marveled at the clichéd-ness of the situation. With portions of dinner outrageously insufficient, we still savored the novelty of eating dinner by the Grand Canal in Venice. What was savored even more was the dark (and I mean almost black) chocolate gelato with mint chocolate chips that followed. Twice…because once just wasn’t enough that night. It was a moment of delirious happiness and the night could not have gotten any better. However, being the semester that it has been thus far, of course it did. It always gets better: with impressive and unexpected twists of events, we returned to the hotel to discover that Notre Dame is ranked number one for college football. Not knowing too much about the sport, it still means the world to me. While I am having the most spectacular time in Europe, I can only imagine the blissful delight and exhilaration that is gripping campus. It will be the best welcome home present. Go Irish!

Halfway done with our time in the city, the next day was dedicated to the islands of Murano and Burano. And the special island we spontaneously disembarked onto. After what seemed to be a never-ending ferry ride to the island, when we finally arrived we were more than satisfied. The glass-making collection of Venetian Islands boasts of prosperous beginnings and thriving trade. It consisted of streets and streets of neatly lined and decadently stocked stores selling original Murano glass. Imagine the wildest contortion of glass possible, and then add about twenty different colors. Make it shiny and translucently radiant and you have only come close to beholding an image close to the actual magical objects of wonder.

Glass fire in the middle of the paved walkway. Sent chills down the spine

All but a couple of furnaces were closed that day and we hesitantly approached the biggest retailer hoping to get a demonstration of glass-blowing. As we walked around and headed hastily towards the heat and the light, we were overjoyed to learn that they decided to give us a free presentation. It was more than we could have hoped for. With front row seats and interactive moments, we were mesmerized by the speed, accuracy and flair that go into a work of such perfect art. It ended with the glass-blower presenting me with a free glass-flower painted a delicate shade of baby pink. Italians always know how to win hearts everywhere. Ecstatic with our purchases, we left and headed to the next island.

On the way we took a small detour and landed in Cimiterio, the only cemetery in Venice. It was a huge island and we walked past the legacies of those lost over the years. With beautiful graves and burial gifts, they ranged from the early 1800s to the present. It was established by Napolean, before which people were simply buried in parish plots across town. With a long philosophical discussion about life, death and whatever else may or may not exist to keep us company, we paid our tributes and made our way to Burano. Think Venice and think pastel colored houses with black wrought-iron balconies. Think bridges over narrow waters, a peaceful distant melody that harmoniously drives the relaxed way of life, warm comforts that awaken the palette…it is Burano you’re dreaming of. The most colorful assortment of vivid buildings side by side is on display, sure to stun you and never let you put your camera down. Boats and gondolas float enticingly nearby, innocently watching the world go by. The intricate lace pieces produced by the island are the icing on top of the cake. It is impossible not to sound cliché while describing the beauty there is to behold.

No such thing as a favorite color in Venice

With the evening getting dark and chilly, we pensively made our way back to Lido for a quiet dinner by the hotel. It was quiet alright, but it was also the best pizza in the whole world. Everything about it: the crust that effortlessly flaked off, the tangy tomato sauce highlighted the flavors of all the toppings, and each bite was irresistibly devoured. For dessert we strongly decided against the nutella pizza, but weakly gave in to the gelato cravings that hit duly as soon as we stepped outside. It was a necessity, and wasn’t regretted in the slightest. Tucking in to a nostalgic movie was a great way to end the day and end our visit to the city. We awoke fresh and eager to continue our journey, gratified by our immensely fruitful stay in Venice.

Hidden alleyways that only the lucky few stumble upon

‘Twas the city that promised many things and had tall orders to live up to; it truly was the city that exceeded by all measures everything we could ever hope to experience. Before we boarded the train we were approached by some bold young school-going children who inquisitively interviewed us about where we are from. It was highly amusing and enlightening to meet them and their teacher and be a part of their assignment to “see the world and the people who come to visit the city of Venice”. Talk about perfect goodbyes. Onwards to the next leg of our shenanigans – Florence: under the Tuscan Sun shall we forever be.

"To build a city where it is impossible to build a city is madness in itself, but to build there one of the most elegant and grandest of cities is the madness of genius."

New Faces

"One's destination is never a place, but rather a new way of seeing things"

Italia. We were off to Italy. It was time for a break from school and an exciting trip outside Greece. The quintessential student’s trip through Europe was the theme of our miniature version of the tradition. A short metro ride away and we were at the Athens International Airport, ready to board the ridiculously inexpensive flight to Milan. After some slight luggage-related hassle and a full flight passed in blissful slumber, we landed that evening in the fog-laden and relatively deserted Milan airport. The language issue hit us again: now we were the tourists in a European city with no prior knowledge of the language. We were now Greek students in Italy – the dynamic notions of identity and association is all-powerful in shaping the lived experiences of the world. We associate with being Greek students on holiday in the land of pasta, pizza and gelato.

The iconic Rinascente mall

A long bus ride into the city and we disembarked outside the Milano Centrale train station and into the crisp Italian night. With no internet access and hungry stomachs, we persevered through the following: haphazard class registration for next semester during the flight, essays due past the deadline for class that night, no knowledge of how to reach the hostel from the station and a hefty roll-on suitcase to lug around. Definitely a great start to a promising trip. Things started to look up as we solved all but one of those issues in quick succession. We began walking to the hostel with a vague yet hopeful set of directions, and discovered how metropolitan Milan is. High-rise commercial and residential buildings are embellished with a blend of classical and modern architecture. Balconies have black wrought-iron gothic patterns on the upper floors of most buildings, the lower floors of which are sleek metal panels and floor length glass windows.
After passing by about twenty McDonalds and ristorante-cafés, we desperately accepted how lost we were and hopped onto the nearest metro. Reaching our stop and getting out, we unanimously decided on food: we needed it right then, and we needed lots of it, and it needed to be full of love and comfort. La Cucina materialized out of thin air – it was brightly lit with a nautical theme of wooden panels, navy steering wheels, submarine windows and live sea-faring music sung to a guitar, both courtesy of the jovial and bald Italian nonno (grandfather). Best of all, two-thirds of the menu was all pizza. A welcoming gesture that greatly satisfied our bellies and our desires for fresh basil, mozzarella, tomatoes and prosciutto.

Milan's train station

A short walk later and we halted to a complete stop. In front of us stood the address – 24, Desadario – with the correct name of the hostel. The only problem was that that was all that was visible. It was only one single shady sign for Hostel Colours, with boarded up windows and a massive sealed metal garage door. Banging on it a little seemed to help though; the door clicked open and revealed what lay ahead. Delirious with laughter and disbelief, we decided we had nothing to lose, and we ventured inside; it was full of retro furniture, bright solid colors on the walls and a large interactive social lobby. Another long sigh of relief. We checked in, figured out logistics, and settled into our ‘multiple occupancy room’ with two other American college students actually backpacking through Europe together for six months. Their next stop was surprisingly Athens – we gave them tips to last them their stay there, told them how to eat, where to roam, and what to expect.Wide-awake and fresh the next morning, we expertly boarded the complicated metro system to visit the cathedral Duomo di Milano (Dome of Milan). The structural protagonist of the piazza (square) it magnificently rises sky high in front of a statue of Victor Emmanuel II (the first King of Italy). Unsurprisingly, it is the largest cathedral in Italy, and the fourth largest in the world. Its gothic exterior with sculptures, bell towers and the golden statue of Madonna suggested its intricate and decadent interior. Indeed the sheer monumentality of the structure was unified beautifully with the impressive altar, the infinite rows of pews, the ominous confession boxes and the biblical excerpts depicted in large projecting reliefs along the walls. With long stained-glass windows to illuminate the darkness and a dozen canvas renditions of the Early Christian Martyrs hanging in the middle, the basilica stands proudly in the heart of central Milan.

The mother of all Italian cathedrals

Realizing that tasting original Italian coffee was yet to be accomplished, we strolled around the outdoor mall (La Rinascente) located adjacent to the square. Containing endless high-end boutiques, the structure also had ceiling murals and quirky architecture features. We relaxed at a ristorante and made our way back to the train station. Tickets were purchased, and with a last look around the city that acquainted us to Italy we boarded the commuter rail in the neo-classical European railway station. Presently looking out the window and watching rural northern Italy zoom by, I talk to three Italian college students about their favorite cities in the country and personal anecdotes about our next stop. Time to arrival: 1 hour, destination: Venice. Ciao Italia.For us to go to Italy and to penetrate into Italy is like a most fascinating act of self-discovery...back, back down the old ways of time. Strange and wonderful chords awaken in us, and vibrate again after many hundreds of years of complete forgetfulness

"For us to go to Italy and to penetrate into Italy is like a most fascinating act of self-discovery...back, back down the old ways of time. Strange and wonderful chords awaken in us, and vibrate again after hundreds of years of complete forgetfulness"

Journey that Mattered in the End

"Two roads diverged in a wood, and I – I took the one less traveled by"

A trip to northern Greece quickly shattered any delusions we were under; just when you think you’ve seen Greece, make the journey up to Thessaloniki and you will instantly swallow your words. It is the second-largest city in Greece, and is the capital of the Central Macedonia region. It also shared equal status with Constantinople as the ‘co-reigning’ city of the Byzantine Empire. It also graciously hosted our short weekend visit and ensured we left with the best impression of it.

After a full day of classes, the overnight train took us to the city by 6.00am on Saturday morning. Too groggy to fully commence our expedition, we sat in the corner of the massive train station by the warm welcoming smells of the bakery and watched commuters journey on. It was a company of three; we planned out the next day and a half full of interesting sights and places to visit.

Figuring out the public transport system takes a little practice. The buses never really leave when they claim to – the whimsical schedule is more of a suggested guideline. Buy a ticket either at a periptero (kiosk) or on board the bus, but absolutely do not forget to validate it in the innocent-looking check-in machine. We settled in for the bus ride to the ancient site of Pella, most famously known as being the seat of King Philip II and his son Alexander III. It was a metropolis with an impressive complex of palaces, a central bustling Agora (meeting place) and luxurious private houses.

We had to request a stop at the site and hopped off the bus into what seemed to be the middle of nowhere. We walked up a road that resembled the quintessential farm with wide open harvested fields, a scattering of barns, and lots of chickens. There were signs that told us we were heading in the right direction, but the signs never corresponded to actual visible points of reference. With our backpacks and humor, we strode on until we abruptly hit a huge statue of Alexander the Great in the center of a large square with a figure of Nike on his palm. This promising landmark showed us the way to the museum of the site. It was also modernized and reconstructed during the Olympic Games, and stands as a testament to ultra-sleek architecture characteristic of government initiatives for the same. With tourist season long gone, everyone stopped to stare as three young foreigners navigated their way around the whole weekend.

All public museums are free to students in Greece (something to miss once we leave) and we happily enjoyed a solid chunk of time all by ourselves in the museums we visited. Known for its exquisite mosaics, Pella survived up until the 1^st century BC when it was probably destroyed by an earthquake. In the museum and at the actual site we saw the original mosaic patterns displayed in the House of Dionysus and the House of the Abduction of Helen. They were all either elaborate geometric designs or scenes with people. They served as enchanting floor decorations in most entrances and entertainment halls of palaces and important buildings.

Alexander the Great, with goddess Nike leading the way

After we gazed our fill and were awkwardly followed closely by the museum guards, we vowed to find the hidden site. The map pointed us one way…it was definitely not the right one. It wasn’t the case that we read it wrongly either: there was only one main road, but it was not on the right side after the first intersection. After forty minutes of walking with blind faith, we approached a dead end. Two more steps towards said dead end and on the left was the site. Laughing mirthlessly, it defiantly dared us to walk through the gates and into the space we desired to explore for quite some time.

The fountains, wells, cisterns, well-paved roads and the dense hydraulic mechanisms all testify to the high standard of living enjoyed by the residents of the settlement. We walked through the heart of the city, the Agora, and came across private houses, large mosaic tiles in various public spaces, both Doric and Ionic columns and evidence of strong fortifications. At the end, we wandered off a beaten path and entered what seemed to be an ongoing excavation of workshops and kilns where pottery and material processing surely took place. There was a huge hole in the middle of a courtyard that ran across another room and ended in a pool structure. The high level of cultural production was confirmed by the object in the museum.

Only after we exhausted every inch of the site did we listen to our grumbling appetites and headed off in search for a hearty meal. The town was almost deserted save for a few locals working outdoors. Unhopefully did we wander, fortunately stumbling upon an adorable taverna with a wooden balcony and colorful décor inside. The waiter was Greek-American and sat with us as he described his life and how he came to be where he is now. The food was impeccable, and far less expensive than we’ve ever encountered. Ravenous, we ate till we could no longer; it took a while. After bidding our goodbyes and walking the lonely road back to the suspicious bus stop, we waited for a while at a souvlaki stand on wheels where the man helped us determine when, where and if the bus would eventually turn up.

Everyone's got mail

In the meantime we wondered ever since we arrived about a sign that read: “multi-chambered tomb”. Intrigued by the lack of further directions, we went in search of it. It ended up being in the backyard of someone’s farm with barbed wire all around because it had closed for the season. The sign depicted colorful chambers within and a staircase led ominously to something we couldn’t see. We stepped back, assessed the situation, looked around, and decided it looked too inviting to pass up. A foot on the lock and over the fence we hopped. Adrenaline racing, it was quickly extinguished when we realized the stairs led to a sturdy door that was looked. Definitely impenetrable. We had our fun, and as we turned around to jump the gate again, we saw it. In apparent slow motion, a truck drove into the area, picking up dust in its wake. Our heart rates flew sky high as we instinctively made it over to the ‘legitimate’ side and waited with bated breaths what this man would have to say to us. He stepped out of the car, looked confused, and then broke out into the broadest grin, chuckling while he said, “It’s okay, you’re not the first and I hope you won’t be the last to try that”. With that, we apologized and learned that only the museum could open the door, and we all-too-hastily rushed to take leave of the site.

With that in mind to keep us alert, we patiently stood at the bus stop and got in it without really glancing back. We switched buses, asked around, and finally made it to the center of the city to our hotel. Inexpensive though it was, the front manager was the chief reason we had such an enjoyable time. He told us all there was to know about getting around the town, what to see, where to eat and what to expect. The rest of the night was spent exploring the streets. As Greece’s college-town, Thessaloniki reminded us that Greece has so much more to offer in terms of entertainment and social atmosphere. We happened to spend the weekend there which coincided with the final day of the International Film Festival and numerous college-sponsored music festivals. Interspersing these events, we also checked out the Roman Forum in the middle of the main park, countless Turkish baths just sitting along the sidewalk, many mosque-turned churches, the Arch of Galerius and the White Tower (which used to be a prison but the last convict was freed after he agreed to whitewash the walls in return).

The Roman Forum, adjacent to the Public Gardens

Dinner was another splendid affair with delicious food and free alcohol and desserts (because “[we] three American girls should have the best time in Greece!”) from a traditional Greek taverna. Greeks are so fond of being outdoors that, even as the temperatures steadily drop, they insist on sitting outdoors at cafés, bars and restaurants. How? By having tall fire heaters strategically located along the streets and plastic shelters to ensnare the warmth so endearingly produced. Full yet again, we meandered with great difficulty back to the hotel and promptly fell asleep.

Waking up at 5.30am is not fun during, ever. Not even when you have to catch a bus, to catch another bus to sit in another bus for over an hour. We made it work though; youth is a marvelous time when your body can be compelled to do ridiculous things despite its rational yet feeble protests. We reached the town of Veria and flagged a taxi to Vergina (since public transport is a trickily operated business on Sundays). Intent on visiting the museum dedicated to the ancient site of Aigai, the ancient capital of the Macedonian Kings, and the cemetery, we were excited to see the tombs of Alexander the Great’s son (Alexander IV) and his father Philip II and the abundance of wealth and gold found.

The museum is one of the most remarkable in all of Greece. Pictures were not allowed inside, but the image of the finds will remain forever imprinted in our memories. An underground building was constructed to protect the royal tombs, maintaining the stable atmospheric conditions for preservation. Also to protect the finds from further pillaging and looting as occurred earlier. From the outside, the museum – built around the tombs looks like (and basically is) an earthen mound. It amazed us with displays of demurely lit gold wreaths, elaborate armor, deadly yet intricately carved weapons and other grave goods that speak volumes about the life and death of those buried there. It also contains a Heroön: a building which was intended for the cult of the dead King and used for ritualistic ceremonies.

All the tombs are accessible to the public and can be explored with abandon. They appear to still be ‘in the ground’ because looking at them requires entering a separate chamber and descending a flight of stairs into the earth and up to the entrance of the tombs. They are in a way resonant with the pyramids in their monumental size and adornment. In the burial chamber were found marble sarcophaguses which further contained The Crown and a gold larnax with the ashes of the deceased royal. As far as museums go, it was beyond incredible and we left astounded by the presentation.

Casually on display, still viciously guarding the tomb it was destined to serve

We left elatedly to return to Thessaloniki. Bus after bus after taxi, we spent the last few hours fruitfully back in the city center. We toured the National Archaeological Museum and the Museum of the Byzantine Empire. It became evident more than ever the emphasis the Greek government places upon education and increasing avenues for intellectual growth. Education is completely funded by them, sites and museums are free for students, accessing amenities in the country is very simple and we are viewed with an aura of innocence, naivety and a yearning for knowledge. Of course we are all those things; it is lovely to be treated with extra regard and attention. Both museums were strikingly extravagant and contained replicas of things we had seen at Pella and Vergina.

It was nearly time to say goodbye once again to a beautiful city. We stopped for a lazy lunch of mouth-watering seafood and free dessert (something we have become too accustomed to) and walked along the seaport as we headed for the train station. There were street performers, children running about the main square with brightly colored and confusingly shaped balloons, young couples stealing an afternoon together and old couples enjoying the fresh air after mass – Thessaloniki could easily compete for the honor and prestige of favorite city in Greece. The train ride home to Athens was an opportunity to catch up on some much needed rest and recuperation. We also sat with three other students from Athens who worked the International Film Festival and invited us to spend time with them once we returned home.

A few masterpieces over here and a few masterpieces over there

Things to do in Greece: Eat fresh and flavorful food – check. Learn enough Modern Greek to interject it into spoken English enough to sound exotic – check. Meet locals who show you how to live life with the utmost zeal – check. Stand and wonder at the natural beauty everywhere – check. See the ancient world through modern eyes – check. Learn enough to last a lifetime – check. Fall more in love with the country with every passing moment – check. Carpe Diem – CHECK.

Rediscovering Wonder

"Knowing who you are is the best defense against who they think you are"

Every now and again a modest weekend in Athens is the perfect avenue to engage with the city, eat with the locals, and catch-up with life. Not to mention school is extremely demanding now that the semester is more than halfway through. It is always the little things that make the world go around: a welcoming smile around every corner, a walk to go nowhere in particular, a book that changes your life (at least for the whole day you spend reading it), a chocolate indulgence to perk up a rainy day, and entertaining company to keep you joyful. Add to this potent mix a little spice and flavor – that unique Athenian dimension – and things can get very interesting.

Unlike everyone else in the program, I did not manage to make it up to the Acropolis monument on the very first day of the semester. Nor the next day…nor the next. It eventually did happen; it was time to victoriously explore one of the most symbolic structures recognized the world over. In class it was discussed that the Acropolis essentially is Greece. Turn on the news and representing Greece is either a picture of the prototypical white-washed-with-sea-blue-domed building, a Greek flag, nowadays a can of tear gas or rioters, or the Acropolis. It has withstood the test of time, culture, religion, and politics. From an extravagantly colored pagan shrine to the ancient Hellenic deities, to a Christian church to worship a new and upcoming religion, to a Mosque towering over a powerful Empire, till today – where it is the sacred monument that resonates in the hearts of Greeks everywhere. A symbol of culture, a symbol of history, and a symbol of spirited love.

Interspersed with the hoard of tourists, we climbed up the hill, took photographs, and wandered around the Parthenon and the theatres of Dionysus and Herodes Atticus. It is even more majestic than we ever imagined. The sun glistens off the fluted detail on the pure white marble columns; they radiate ethereal waves of tranquility and wonder. It is a world removed away from the jostling fast-paced life down in the city. Even the way the guards guarded the site was sanctimonious and intimidating. Their respect was evident in their composure, as was the curiosity and excitement of all the people around us. From all over the world, we met Parisians, Spaniards, more Americans, Indians, Australians, Koreans and Chinese visitors. All here to witness the grandeur of the highest structure in Athens, everyone was unified in a community of awe and admiration.

I rather think it speaks for itself, yes?

Like in most places, the delightful features that characterize a place are often taken for granted by its inhabitants – until they leave. It often takes a trip around the world to recognize the splendor of one’s home. Athens is no different: locals are amused to see us get so excited about the competing vendors at the weekly Farmers market, the non-comprehension by waiters at tavernas that sometimes we don’t want wine or bread with our dinner, the strange validation process for tickets while using public transport (that most locals simply choose to ignore), our amazed stares at the impeccable sense of style displayed by everyone, our inability to pass by a single stray animal without fawning over it… and too many other details to count. It is particularly interesting to see the concomitant metropolitan and traditional neighborhood settings that blend seamlessly together with no clear boundaries or limits.

Early every Friday morning in our comfortable neighborhood in Pangrati, hoards of elderly men, upon the insistence from their wives, make their way to the large Farmers market at the end of the street. Alongside stroll many younger adolescents, coaxed by busy parents, to pick up vegetables and fruits for the week. It is a vibrant atmosphere with calls and offers shouted in every direction, free samples of blood-red tomatoes, plump grapes, sharp olives, juicy watermelons, and beckoning smiles with every step. Food is of utmost importance to the Greek way of life – a fact of life ever-present in every situation. What is most amazing is the complete change of pace of the city come nightfall. In Greece, the night cannot even begin to begin until 10.00pm. That is when people contemplate going out for the evening for a drink, dinner and a good time. The street right beyond the Farmers market is a cornucopia of bars, restaurants, and chocolate dessert havens. Almost indistinguishable from the streets of New York or Los Angeles, it is the perfect example of the burgeoning youth culture that is slowly redefining Greek notions of entertainment.

Our stash after a very successful Friday morning at the Farmer's Market

Ancient Greece with its myriad of deities is the image the international domain is most familiar with. Ideals of pantheistic extravagance, passionate interpersonal encounters and strides in knowledge and scholarship abound the world over when the Mediterranean region is referenced. What most people forget is that huge extended families, libations (offerings) of wine and academic symposiums are not all-encompassing with regards to Greek society. This is the Hellenistic portrayal that is externally rendered by Greeks. For the most part however, it is an amalgamation of Byzantine tradition and Ottoman institutions that is internally reflected within circles of Greek locals. Music reminiscent of Eastern mysticism, Rembetika, is adored by all generations, liturgical services are held mostly in mosque-turned-cchurches, and homemade food is relished with its richness and zest. This facet of Greek identity is at the other end of the spectrum is termed as Romiosini.

After Constantine established Byzantium as the new capital of the Roman Empire, Greek culture gradually changed from Hellenic (pagan Greek) to Eastern Roman (Greek Orthodox Christianity). Now, after the integration of certain aspects from the Islamic Ottoman Empire, what remains is a duality of self, exuded by Greeks. On the one hand, they ascribe to European ideals and personify Hellenistic elegance. On the other hand though, they treasure certain means of expressing traditional mystic and Orthodox quotidian life.

Rembetika cafe-bar; a fusion of East and West

Methinks schoolwork is being taken a little too seriously. In other news, with the opportunity to meet Greek students through an event held at our institution, we got to speak to them about life in Athens and growing up Greek. The evening ended with the beginning of a very long night. We took them up on their offer to take us out Greek style, and ended up at the hippest swing club in Athens. A step inside almost cost you a crashing fall to the floor as you maneuver through the twirling and dipping couples. This was a serious performance – no amateurs allowed. Confident that we would embarrass the sophisticated and advanced pairs on the dance floor, we settled to dancing off to the side and spending the whole night on our feet.

Old music favorites blasted through the speakers and polka-dotted classics were a blur everywhere we looked. Greeklish was the language of choice as the crowd was a healthy mix of young American expats and native Greek hipsters. Interspersed with exotic cocktails were very animated conversations (okay, more like interviews) where we questioned the poor Greeks to no end about their thoughts on politics, religion, relationships, music and dance, and food (of course). I got a long lesson in the many different types of string instruments, and was promised a bouzoukia (cross between a guitar and a banjo) of my own to bring home. At the end of the night, there was not a single ounce of doubt: the Greeks definitely know how to do it in style. They carry themselves with pride, work because they like it, party like they never will again, and live because they simply love life.

With the same strand of enthusiasm, it is no wonder The Athens Classic Marathon is a huge hit; eager participants the world over annually flock here to train and run the forty kilometers famed to bring eternal glory and honor. Some students in our group took on the challenge – several of them started training from day one. Dedicated to being dedicated, they never faltered even once and the rest of us could do nothing but wonder at their amazing physical endurance and ability. The shortest time one of them accomplished was exactly four hours…to run twenty-six miles. It is almost unfathomable to reckon with the idea that the winner of the Athens Marathon 2012 finished in just over two hours. That is beyond impressive, and slightly overwhelmingly unnerving. The end point was conveniently located right outside our Academic Center in front of the Kalimarmaro Stadium, thus providing us with the perfect view of the finish line.

Ready, set, go!

As the runners recuperate and still visibly wince down each flight of stairs, life carries on as the weather gets progressively chillier, austerity measures take a toll on the economy and the people, people switch from white to red wine, and school work has our noses to the grind. A pleasant respite was the celebration of Diwali in Athens. The Festival of Lights is most commonly known as the “Indian festival with fireworks and sweet treats”. Spiritually, it is the ‘awareness of the inner light’ and celebrates the victory of positive over negative: the light of the higher self, triumphant over that which masks the true nature of oneself as the unchanging, infinite, immanent and transcendent reality. The surprise came in the unexpected way we ended up experiencing Diwali in Athens. Starting the day with new clothes, class seemed to drag on forever until that evening things started looking up. The Indian-neighbor-and-shopkeeper-who-is-my-best-friend extended an invitation to eat (too many) sweet delights. It was such a thoughtful sentiment, and made even more special by what he gave me next. He claims to “know someone who knows someone” who searched most of the city to buy firecrackers for me to burst. He produced a small package of thoroughly enjoyable sparkling and glittered ones. Oh, and a matchbox with a candle; he thought of everything.

It was a nice touch and reminded me of home: where everything comes to a stop on this day, people are dressed in their finest, and love and laughter abound. This feeling resonated worldwide: on Christmas, Easter, Independence Days, and any festival that brings people together in the solidarity of shared happiness. It sparked the beginning of more adventures: more places to visit, more things to see, more people to meet, and more of life to fall in love with. The journey continues, and is all set to get even more wonderful.

Meet Me Halfway

"To awaken quite alone in a strange town is one of the most pleasant sensations in the world"

What happens when you combine Bronze Age civilizations and Iron Age settlements with the Roman State, the Byzantine Empire, the Venetian Occupation and the Ottoman Rule?

Just another week of a semester abroad in Greece. The week focused on travelling to many sites to learn about the history of the Greek region, from forever ago till today. A week of lots of learning, a week of lots of reflection and a week of extraordinary stories and memories. No surprises as to how long the bus ride took to reach our destination. Although, this time around, five and a half hours seemed significantly less than the six hours we are accustomed to.

They tell you it never rains in Greece. Maybe a slight drizzle here and there, but not enough to bother about it too much.

Psemàta. Such lies.

In the midst of torrential downpour, we stopped at the Isthmus of Corinth for a quick photo opportunity. It is the narrow bridge of land connecting the Peloponnese with the rest of mainland Greece. The point where, weather permitting, the most epic bungee jump would (should) have happened.

Imagine bungee jumping off that?!

In any case, we lumbered on and arrived that evening at Nafplion. The first capital of Greece, this seaport town has hosted everyone from the Ancient Greeks to the Romans, the Byzantines, the Venetians and the Ottomans. We were introduced to the city in its Archeological Museum by our accompanying professor. A PhD professor in too many universities around the world, this Turkish delight entertained us to no end throughout the trip, with awkward yet hilarious references and comments. With long hair in a ponytail and a cigarette eternally alit, he showed us around the town afterwards.

While wandering the narrow streets that evening, we discovered steps that lead up to a Venetian fortress on a hill. It was a spectacular view, allowing us to chance upon an Orthodox Church built originally as an Ottoman Mosque with French engravings inside that honor the Greeks who fought for the nation’s independence. The more we discover about Greece the more diversity and syncretism it reveals. It is slowly becoming impossible to pinpoint with certainty its ‘cultural essence’. Lastly, the best part of the night was discovering Nikitas Stamatelopoulos – also known as the ‘Turk Eater’. A Greek revolutionary, he was admired for his fighting prowess and manifest patriotism; he is said to have once used all of five swords in one battle because they all each successively broke from excessive use.

Never mind, there was another best part of the night. After a delicious taverna dinner with engaging company, we made a beeline for the ‘best gelato in Greece’. So much so that a professor at our institution drives all the way up there – from Athens – just for a hearty scoop of goodness. Full though we were, we were no match for such irresistibility: chili dark chocolate, hazelnut, fig, lemon lime, raspberry, mango, stracciatella, coconut…the list was endless. After tasting every single one, we gravely decided which one to bestow the honor of our preference. We left before we could gaze any longer and regret not getting the extra-large serving. It was perfectly creamy, sweet, smooth and slurp-worthy. Italy now has a hard act to follow.

The view of a castle down below from our castle up above

The next day was a busy one. First was the site of Epidavros: a brilliant sanctuary dedicated to Asklepios (Greek God of healing). His popularity earned him a collection of large structures and a flock of pilgrims eager to witness miraculous cures. To the north of the main temple and the Tholos tomb is the Abaton: a building where the sick were required to go to sleep so that the God could appear to them in a dream and heal them (or rather, the ancient medical experts could “interpret” their dreams and recommend surgeries or procedures that “God had revealed would work” – and which, in most cases, did work). To cope with such large numbers of people, they constructed huge athletic facilities, accommodation centers and theatres for leisure. These were to ensure the entertainment and pleasure of the visitors. Also because it is a truth universally acknowledged that wholehearted dose of good food, music and sleep can usually cure even the most potent of illnesses.

The rest of the day was spent at Mycenae. The main center of the Mycenaean world, it is characteristic for its HUGE structures, including an impressive Lion gate, tombs that rivaled pyramids, and thirty feet wide defensive stone walls. The Mycenaeans are said to have been a tad bit obsessed with displays of material wealth and culture. It seems that bigger has always been better through the course of history. They are not really noted for their administrative style or economic proficiency; they are however, known for the sheer quantities of gold and bronze artifacts as well as the extremely hierarchical social organization. In the largest Tholos (round) tomb, when raiders looted all the gold and grave goods, they missed a secret inner lair with riches upon riches. Whoever was laid to rest there was clearly the most important – and being Mycenaean, liked to show off. We got to go inside the inside and get a good look around, and observed all the recovered objects in the museum afterwards.
Another night was spent in Nafplion to explore the pier and the castle on the water. Even now it still feels like late summer, with the days being warm and the nights chilly enough for long walks. We attended an elegant wine tasting and learned about wines and spirits from different regions in Greece. Usually partial to red wine, I ended up buying a large bottle of the excellent Mantinea white wine after knowledgeably assessing its color, smell, acidity and smoothness. Accompanied with olives galore and cheese to pair with each, it was a delightful event and at least for a short while creates the feeling of being a wine connoisseur. If all else fails…
To complement the visit to the site of Thermopylae where the battle between the Spartans and the Persians was fought, we finally got to visit the actual site of ancient Sparta itself. Specifically, we climbed the enormous hill that is the fortified town of Mystras. It was the capital of the Byzantine Empire, and experienced cultural flowering through the Venetian conquest, and enjoyed a period of prosperity up until the end of the Ottoman reign.
It was a steep hike up, but the spectacular view of the world from the top more than made up for it. It was breathtaking to look one way and see the modern town of Sparti built over ancient Sparta, look the other way and see the plush valley and olive trees down below, and look yet another way and see the vast expanse of plains basking in the Mediterranean sun. Along with the fortress stands a monastery still open to the public today with beautiful daisies aligning the perimeter and terra cotta tiles adorning the roof. Inside the main catholicon, the four marble pillars have engraved ancient Greek words of wisdom which we tried to decipher, with minimal success. The nuns who still live there sell hand-woven lace effects reminiscent of traditional Eastern European lace designs in antique stores.

Fusion-style monastery at Mystras

In the bus again and off for more adventures. That night was spent in Kalamata, home to the Kalamata olives. Also a seaside town, it was as metropolitan as Athens, although with tourist season being nearly over, our group was fawned over everywhere we went. We landed up in a small restaurant where you can create your own dish. They list their ingredients and what they purchased that week; you do the cooking, without having to do the cooking. It was ingeniously delicious. Of course we hunted down the best recommended place to taste Kalamata olives and olive oil fresh from harvest earlier that day. Green and black, pitted and stuffed, they were silky and the perfect balance of salty and sour. Talk about developing a refined (and expensive) sense of taste.
Only halfway through our week, yet there was still so much more to do and too much more to see. The next morning we had the chance to visit the site of Pylos: specifically, Nestor’s palace. It is a central building of a fortified Bronze Age ancient settlement. What was even more special was the fact that our lovely Turkish professor was one of the lead excavators there, so we had back stage passes to see the latest finds they were digging right in front of us. To get there we had to pass the central throne room that possessed a hearth spanning ten feet in diameter – it supposedly paralleled the might and extent of the colossal Mycenaean territory – and is predicated to have been painted extravagantly with all sorts of colors and gold leafing. It was fascinating to observe how some in the team used digital software and futuristic tools to create an accurate virtual representation of the entire site; right next to another group that was almost buried eight feet deep in the manually dug trench sifting away the layers of Earth and ‘material cultural layers’. Archaeology is a complex science – of technology and accuracy, but also of uncovering the depths and intricacies of human life in a time long-forgotten. What they find and how they interpret it has immense implications for our understanding of what it means to be human.
That evening we drove to the historic site of Olympia: home of the real Olympics. The first games, held in honor of Zeus, have always taken place every four years in this sanctuary. To enter the site itself requires wandering through botanical gardens and walking through a gate that slowly leads into the first few buildings. It is very well maintained with grass everywhere and monuments and half reconstructed temples nonchalantly strewn all over the places. With reconstruction, it is hard to decide if it is ethical to reconstruct the entire building to look like new or to leave it as it is found. To find middle ground, it was pleasing to note that the site was reconstructed enough to get a sense of what ancient Olympia was like, but still rendered a feeling of antediluvian tranquility. The rush of walking upon a site where you know people did the same such a long time ago begs the question of how much we really understand of life from what we found. If the same scenario was applied to our civilization as we know it, would hypothetical future archaeological evidence do justice to our conceptions of culture and our worldviews?
The past and the present fuse together at the site. Interestingly, the Olympic flame of the games today is lit using a mirror in front of the temple of Hera at the site. It is then transported – still alit – to wherever in the world the games are taking place. Right outside the stadium are ruins of statues dedicated by previous athletes – as penalties – when they were caught cheating during the games; they each were fined a Bronze statue of Zeus with their name carved below it for all the world to heckle at their disgrace. After passing by these Zanes, we bravely entered the stadium and ran the Olympic track. It was a close race, but the victorious ones have now found their claim to fame: they conquered The Olympic Stadium. Does that qualify us for tickets to the next Brazilian games?

And the glory of Olympia shall be ours for all eternity

After that exciting moment, the last and final stop for the group was Delphi. The sanctuary extends over a series of terraces in the foothill of Mount Parnassos. It used to be the religious and spiritual center of the ancient Greek world. According to legend, it is the geographical omphalos (navel) of the world: it was discovered by the meeting of two eagles dispatched by Zeus from the ends of the universe of find the center of everything. The cult of Apollo was established after He killed the Python snake that guarded the oracle Ge (who was the site’s previous chief deity). To follow the Sacred Way, one had to undergo purification in the Kastalia spring and offer a sacrifice on the altar of the God Apollo. Pilgrims then eagerly sought the advice of the oracle that was uttered and interpreted by the Pythia: the priestess of the shrine. We never had a chance to do so ourselves; the Oracle was on strike…along with the rest of the country. It was probably frustrated with the austerity measures.
The night at Delphi was a relaxing end to a week away from the classroom. What we really needed was a round of drinks at a cool café-bar from our Grad-student-genius-professor-tour guide. That was exactly what we got. Here in Greece where the professors are really just glorified best friends and the cocktails are cheaper than food, we ended the week with a bang and partied till we could no more (really, it was not that long). The week was exhaustively gratifying, and opened up the discovery of the diverse world of the Mediterranean. The microcosm that is Greece is a network of rich tradition, history, and religion just waiting to be taken advantage of.

A place of Oracle...and a stunning view, as always

When everything you see implores you to return again, when every new location urges you to explore deeper to unearth its hidden mysteries, and when living in the present leads to effortless enchantment – that’s when you know you’ve found yourself. Your heart is in the right place; you'll know because you put it there.

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”