Ancient Ruins and Modern Capitalism

Friday morning was the first overcast day we’ve had since arriving. Beaches are fine, but I’m a Northwoods girl at heart. The cooler air left me grinning, wishing I had a flannel shirt to wrap up with my hot chocolate and cereal.

During our Greek lesson - in the common area of the apartments, with big windows overlooking the water - the trees (I’ve yet to identify) were catching the late afternoon light.

Everything hums around that time of day, especially when the winds pick up…

Apparently “Sirocco” is the name of a wind that blows from Northern Africa into the Mediterranean. At certain times of the year it leaves a thin layer of dust on everything in Paros. No dust today, but it might storm later. It would be the first time in over four months.

Lambros is determined to teach us how to speak and write practical Greek. We started our lessons unconventionally, by listening to a song from the famous Greek singer, Giannis Parios and he was patient with our attempts to “squelch” out a few words.

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On Thursday we traveled to the island of Delos and Mykonos.

Delos is uninhabited -- but it contains the ruins of a Greek city from 6th century B.C., where Leto gave birth to the god Apollo. We took a boat from Naoussa and arrived around 10:30 am. The Acropolis in Athens felt out of place surrounded by modern buildings and sweaty tourists.

But Delos was different.

Empty for thousands of years - the streets still belong to the first inhabitants who prodded stones into temples, built stairways into hillsides and filled shops with rugs and spices. The majority of walls are still standing, so curious tourists can peek into houses and wonder…

Who was here before us?

Kati, Lindsay and I slipped away from the suffocating crowds and moved between the ruins alone, stepping over pieces of marble and mosaics. It was exhausting to have the past so close … everywhere we moved held a story. I tried to described it in my journal later that day:

This place is filled with ghosts. Children running down streets, shadows left in empty door ways, lovers sneaking up hillsides. Did they comprehend the expansion of life? Could they count forwards the thousands of years it would take us to count backwards? Who was the first? Who will be the last? Where did the poets sleep?

Then onto the island of Mykonos - from rock and arid weeds to seaside bars and shops selling jewelry in just 30 minutes. It was an ironic transition. I was overwhelmed this time by the contrast between ancient ruins and modern capitalism.

We are no less human than the inhabitants of Delos. In our daily agenda of living, eating, dreaming, loving, breathing we simple are - and our time here is terrifically temporary. They lived like we do with worries and fears and probably imagined their city would exist forever ... which is a good lesson we shouldn't overlook.

Yikes that seems really heavy on the existential side - but it also puts things into perspective. Read Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver if you get a chance.

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Standing on a crowded street Mykonos (all the streets are barely wide enough for three people to walk side by side) waiting for Kati to come out of a gift shop - I noticed an elderly Greek woman dressed in black crying outside an orthodox church. She was surrounded by other women dressed in black - apparently for a funeral.

It’s incredible how quickly we forget the foreign places we visit are also the homes of so many lives. Seeing a funeral shouldn’t be strange … but it was out of place among the post cards and overpriced meals.

Try reading A Small Place by Jamaica Kincaid as well. It’s been on my mind a lot lately.

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As I finish writing this another weekend has passed and my 3rd week in Greece is ready to start. Classes are fulfilling, friendships are deepening and time is going quickly!

I had my first moment of homesickness this week … but quickly cured the situation with homemade soup (tomatoes, onions, potatoes, noodles, basil) and night spent laughing with some friends … Brianna gave me good advice when I worried that I shouldn’t be feeling any homesickness or missing John so much after just a few weeks (with some amazing weeks on their way!)

She just laughed and said: “Be gentle with yourself.”

So I shall. Catch a falling leaf and drink some hot cocoa. I love you very much.