a few random sketches

athenian night

islands of calm in the chaos

acropolis

The feeling of standing in front of something you had been dreaming of standing in front of for most of your life is overwhelming— to say the least. I have wanted to sit beside the Parthenon since I was a little girl, and unfortunately when I got to the Acropolis at 2:15, I was told I had fifteen minutes before closing time. Why this enormously important historical site closes so early, is beyond me— it's a real shame. I sprinted up to the top of the hill, holding onto my dress so it wouldn't get carried away by the wind, hoping I might have enough time for a quick sketch.



I was so struck by the fact that my feet were adding to the shine of marble steps curved and polished by an unimaginable number of feet since the 5th century BCE, that I forgot I even had a sketchbook and pen. Sometimes I suppose, you're just meant to appreciate with your eyes and contemplate your self and surroundings a while.



I still don't know what to say.
I wish I had more time up there.

painted

Whose hands held the brushes?
Whose lucky eyes beheld the result?

the breath in the marble

Housed in the stunning National Archaeological Museum of Athens, are dozens of faces I've known for decades, but never met. I am familiar with the creases and lines of Agamemnon's golden mask— I once played the goddess Athena when I was twelve in a play about the tragic hero. I know every curve of every muscle in the tensed body of Zeus (or Poseidon— his identity is not known for certain). I have smiled back at the curled lips of Kouros and Kore, and stared into the black eyes of Augustus. Finally, I get to stand beside them, breath held in wonder.



One of the things I love most about Ancient Greek mythology is that the heroes and gods are flawed, imperfect— they suffered fears and falls, love and loss. They were human. When I look at the expression of the faces, hands and spines of these sculptures, I feel the blood in their hearts, the breath in their lungs. Every unique wrinkle in a forehead, that soft individual bend of the mouth— all so alive, so human. Perhaps every sculptor was a Pygmalion, falling for his creation, carving and chiseling with love, the pulse into cold stone. I look into these faces and I see the person; their suffering, their joy, I think of the hands that captured the person, and I feel connected.

in the city

Wandering around the bustling streets of Athens, I came upon some lovely moments.



And then I treated myself to a mouth-watering gyros— the Greek version of the Turkish döner, or Middle Eastern shawarma. The major difference between gyros and döner, is that in Greece, the pita is dipped in oil and lightly grilled, not the healthiest but definitely the tastiest! The Greeks also drizzle tzatziki in the sandwich, whereas the Turks keep their döner sauceless. I was in love— oh, and by the way, the correct pronunciation is closest to "yee-ros." Expect looks of confusion or disdain when you ask for a "jai-ro."

poseidon and the pool of honey

Thursday was perfect for a leisurely drive to idyllic Sounio, a town on the southernmost tip of Greece's Attica peninsula. On the very top of a cliff overlooking the blue Mediterranean, stands what's left of the Temple of Poseidon. Poseidon is the Ancient Greek god of the sea— one of my favourites— known for being temperamental, he wreaked havoc on those who offended him with earthquakes and storms caused by a strike of his mighty trident. Unfortunately, the site was closed due to a different sort of strike, so I was only able to enjoy the temple's beauty from a little café with a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice.



On the way back to Athens, a feast was in order at a roadside taverna. Toasted bread, slivers of fried potatoes, salad with a slab of gorgeous feta, boiled greens and tzatziki got our appetites going as we sipped on cool wine and waited for the meat.



The lamb practically melted in my mouth, and just when I thought there was no room left in my body for any more food, dessert arrived. A large dollop of thick, tangy yoghurt with a pool of sweet amber-coloured honey.



I think I need to make this delightful combination a daily indulgence.

graffiti greek