The Giant Oat

Sunday April 19

Last night we arrived in Athens and people were already lighting firecrackers and bringing home the Paschal light, available on street corners vended by gypsies. This morning, Easter Sunday for the Orthodox and some Byzantine Rite Catholics, including my family back home, I slept in a little. It was the second easter for me this year already. I walked over to the church where my uncle and cousin were and it was the begining of Paschal Matins. The church was already full, and the back of the church was a zoo. These ukrainians have adapted to their Greek environment.

I went up to the choir loft where I thought there would be more room, and was shocked, SHOCKED I tell you, at what I found there. A choir. I didnàt think choir lofts were used for the purpose anymore.

The whole church sang pretty much everything, though about a dozen powerhouse ladies in the choir loft led the way. Another fifty or so people in the loft helped out. The service was lovely, though I spent most of it staring at a column which was in front of my and blocking my view of anything going on downstairs. It forced me to focus inward and was interesting to have a different vantage point from my usual spot in Brampton in the centre of the action.

After church, teh couryard was packed with Ukes and their baskets. The palm trees and orange trees made it feel exotic, but in general, it felt familiar and just like home. I felt pangs of nostalgia (or maybe hunger) when I saw the baskets of others, neatly packed with eggs, kobassa, and paska, but not for me. How I craved for some kabbanos!

Following the blessing of baskets, we ate breakfast in the church hall. My cousin and I were given seats at the head table (consisting of priests, a bishop, and some seminarians). The rest of the tables were populated by women in their fifties and sixties. They were all women who came to Greece to work, and are all here without any family with whom to celebrate the Feast. The tables were filled with more food than any of could eat. Instead of the usual Christ is Risen songs I would have expected, they sand verse after verse of folk songs from back home. Looking at them, I realized how difficult it must have been for them to leave home, be here without family, and how good it is that they have faith and tradition to unite them in these times.

Our afternoon post-Paschal nap involved watching Naked Gun One, followed by a walk to the Acropolis and a fifty dollar coffee break. In the evening, we happened upon a church serving Agape Vespers (and at the Vesperal time, instead of the morning).

Overall, it was a low key, but beautiful Easter. It doesnàt feel the same, though, when I am not totally exhausted and voiceless after the marathon of Bramptonàs services.

April 17

I spent a good while out on the balcony of our grungy hotel room. The room has what my cousin and I believe to be blood stains on the ceiling, and what I can positively identify as squished bugs on the wall near my head. I spent a good amount of time contemplating the relative merits and drawbacks of this week in Greece. On the one hand, the hotels have been free, my uncle has been picking up the food tabs a lot, and we have been in a car, which means seeing much more of the country than I would have otherwise. On the other hand, they have had to put up with my sugar mood swings, adn I have been in more churches and church goods stores than anyone could ever want (except maybe my brother).

But my uncle and his car, got me to a very beautiful place today, and for that I am grateful. Meteora is a stunning place indeed! The little town below is largely touristy, but the landscape is incredible and very BIG. Rocky fingers jut straight up out of the ground, a result of some ancient volcanic activity, I imagine. There used to be twenty one monasteries hidden atop these rocks, but six or eight remain today. We visited one inside, a convent, and if I had to be a nun, Iàd want to live here…high above the earth, half way to heaven.

There was more souvlaki, salad and fries for lunch, and I am looking forward to a change in diet.

April 17

I am sitting in bed watching yet another film about Jesus. That makes around five or six, I would say, that have been on over the last 24 hours. I even got to watch a movie about St. Paul while eating in a fast food restaurant. Greeks are BIG on holy week.

Today was spent visiting lots and lots of churches. It is Greece, and Holy Week, and I am with a theology student and a priest/theology professor, so what can I expect to be doing? I visited St. Demetrius and Hagia Sophia, and the church of St. Gregory of Palamas. My favourite was St. Greogory;s, as teh animated cantoring amused me, but was also very well sung.

In the evening, churches were packed for Good Friday services. I ran into a marching band and crowds of people on the street at about five, well before any services would have started, I thought, but it was already a procession through the streets with the shroud, surrounded by military, priests, schoolgirls in uniform, and women in regional traditional costume. I have videos and canàt wait to show them. As the procession passed by the very commercial parts of town, shop workers came to their doors, stood reverently, and crossed themselves as the shroud was carried past them. Definitely a first for me to see this degree of popular and outward expression of piety. That being said, teh stores WERE open for business.

Later in teh night, there were many processions and marching bands on intersecting streets, and it was a veritable zoo at times, with people running from one street to the next to catch different processions. People stood on their balconies with candles lit to watch as the band and the shroud and the thousands of people walked by.  

April 16

My first impressions of Thessaloniki were not that great…but they improved. At first, I thought it was just another big city, dirty, smelly and under contstruction, full of cheap shops selling plastic things (I donàt know what was wrong with me, but man was I ever moody…maybe it was the ten PM dinner time that threw me out of whack?). Then I found my way to the pier.

There is a very beautiful, very long pier alng the harbour in Thessaloniki. I spy loads of cafes, the White Tower, a lovely park with lit fountains in the night, people selling roasted nuts and balloons, a klesmer band belting out tunes, a couple dancing happily, a crew of young men flying a kite, lovers walking slowly by as the sun sets beyond the faraway shipyard, loafers hang their feet over the concrete edge, and a young and good looking musician sits ten feet from me, picking out a tune on his guitar. I wish I could hear him, but with the surf, the clarinet, and the cars competing, I can only make out the highest of notes.

I stare at the starry sky, watch nocturnal birds skim the surface of the sea, and see a plane flying low, and I wonder if birds get inferiority complexes from airplanes. I think I was a bird once.

I have noticed that gypsies in greece sell candles in front of churches, adn I marvel at their adaptation to each environment.

ENTER KOSTAS

The guitarist asks me what time it is. I tell him. He asks why I was just laughing to myself. I tell him about the birds and inferiority complexes, adn he doesnàt laugh. I scoot over to chat and I realize that the way to have an authentic experience in Greece is to meet someone named Konstantinos and get him to tell you how very great Greece is.

He extols Greece and all her virtues. He tells me of her history. He went to Greek school, has only Greek friends, and loves all things Greek, but he was born and has only ever lived in Germany. He tells me with absolute joy (this guy is in love with his country) that in two months he will move to Greece and never leave. I invite him to join me and my cousin for dinner, and I get another hour or two of Greekophilia. He is so sincere it makes me melt. He takes me and my cousin for Gyros on Pita. It is the best gyros I have ever had (and I practically lived on the stuff in university). Here, the gyros come with fries INSIDE the pita, along with ketchup, mustard, adn then the usual tomato and tzatziki. I enjoy every bite as we eat, the three of us, sitting on an ancient wall of the ancient roman market, talking about how great Greece is.

Kostas tells us he has two dreams. One is about to be fulfilled, and that is to live in Greece. The other is to be a famous musician in Greece. I guess it is good to keep it simple, and I try my hand at it. My ambitions for life are twofold, and like his, mine are interrelated. I want to always have family and friends near to celebrate the major and minor events of life with me, and I want to join myself to someone with whom I will experience all that life has to offer – joys and sorrows alike.

Okay, so I totally skipped out on a whole lot of blogging all around easter in rome. I blame the lack of things being open/lack of time to write.

For anyone paying closce attention, I will fill you in on the fact that it was in fact the house of a countess where I spent my Easter brunch. Palazzo Campo de Fiore. The rooftop views were amazing and I got a sense of the high life in Rome. We sat down on lovely patio furniture outside, while plates of food were constantly being delivered to our laps. I had a plate of pasta, a plate of various meats, a plate of vegetables including half an artichoke, a lovely bread and icecream desert, a fruit desert, a liqueur and chocolate desert, and coffee. It was decadent. I didn’t understand much of anything anyone was saying, but I got that there were some funny stories about Italian dialects being exchanged. I spoke with a lovely old Italian rich man, who when I told him I work for the department of agriculture, told me about how when he was a boy he planted seeds one by one in a row every ten centimetres, then watched them grow and reaped them in the fall. Now he is rich. I love this man. He spoke italian and I french and we managed. From that patio I could see every major church and monument in Rome, practically.

Okay, i’m now more than half way through this journey and it’s time for a review:

1. Take the path less trod – I’ve gotten lost a few times, but I think this one has yet to be fully realized. I think taking six weeks off work is unusual, and I am really proud of myself for making it happen.

2. Build something with mud – not for another few weeks!

3. Trust my gut – this one has been tricky. I have trusted my gut for travel plans and it has worked out really well. I have yet to really have the guts to trust my gut in other matters, though. Or I am still trying to figure out what the gut is saying. It is too busy digesting food. I think I heard it say to move to BC, though.

4. Drink in a London pub – done and done and done… i will not forget that hangover for a while yet.

5. Write a poem – not yet

6. Wander Montmartre – I did do this, adn loved it!

7. Eat more fondue (cheese AND chocolate) than is good for me – cheese yes, fodue, not so much. Maybe when I hit Geneva? I have had a lot of chocolate and cheese everywhere I go. My favourite has been French cheese. My face shows signs of overloading.

8. Spend days on a quiet beach in the sun doing nothing at all – If that were “day” singular, I did that today. Maybe tomorrow will make it plural. I suspect this one won’t get fully realised, though.

9. Sketch – at the Louvre, I was inspired!

10. Write a short story – grrr….I struggle with the creative writing, but my crazy dreams lately are certainly fodder.

11. Write in my journal – my journal has been my sole and constant companion. I am afraid it is contemplating leaving me, after all my jabbering on and on and on! I keep it with me always, and over solitary meals I often write as if I were talking to my meal companion. I’ve gotten back in the groove of talking to myself, and it is great (in writing, not in public outloud).

12. Set a course (ideological, geographical, spiritual, employment-related) to follow when I return home – ummm….. maybe the art farm will help settle this, but again, BC is popping up a lot, and so is this idea of editing for a living. Maybe I’ll find a head hunter. I do, however, find it really interesting when I chat with people about what I do at home. I have a cool job! Whoa! I didn’t thnk I’d write that!

13. Do something that scares me – leaving my love for six weeks scares me daily. Crossing the street in Greece scares me. I have to work on this one a bit more, though.

14. See a volcano – nope. Maybe Vesuvius when I go to Pompeii?

15. Ride a gondola – saving it for one romantic trip in the future when I have someone to share the ride with. I did enjoy the water taxi, though.

16. Surf a couch – Fraid not. Well, I did get assigned to sleep at a Ukrainian lady’s house. My cousin got the couch. I got the bed. We both got forced to drink too much.

17. Follow the wind – indeed indeed indeed. The venetian wind in particular.

18. Experience an eco-village – soon!

19. Celebrate Easter in a new way – half done this. One way was last week, involving a greek catholic Good Friday in Greek, Slavonic services at the byzantine catholic college in Rome singing with a Swiss choir, and joining the crowds for the spectacle in St. Peter’s square. This weekend, I go Greek Orthodox, with a mix of Uki Catholic in Thessaloniki and Athens. I expect an interesting Good Friday. I do not expect anything near as fun, beautiful, tasty and wonderful as Brampton, Ontario, though.

20. Learn to cook something tasty – I have eaten many tasty things, especially a french soup with mustard, but I have yet to prepare aything. I will emulate when I get home.

21. Connect with new friends and old — done!

22. Remember and discover what I have to offer the world – work in progress.

23. Photograph beautiful things – done, though I wish I had my SLR (film) camera.

24. Meet beautiful people – My venetian dinner mates, my English housemates… and I hope some good people on a French Farm!

25. Laugh abundantly – to tears, in fact, in Assissi at a restaurant where we werent even drinking! Almost peed my pants/

26. Be moved to tears- many times

27. In the quietness of solitude, hear my voice – still trying to be quiet enough

28. Avoid being mugged and/or harmed – so far so good!

29. Learn that there’s no such thing as being lost – definitely making progress on this one.

30. Know that I am exactly where I ought to be: a place of infinite possibility – ah…well, this I think might need a bit more work, but I am more than half way there

The first thing I noticed in the Athens airport was an advertisement claiming proudly that 51,000 words in use in the world are from Greek. It made me laugh, as I thought of the father in My Big Fat Greek Wedding linking any word, even Sushi, to Greek roots. My father used to do this with me too. I remember cornucopea. Horn of Plenty.

Greece has been more of an inner journey than an outer journey (here comes the hippie…we are journeying toward a week at an eco village, afterall…). I can see why this country has produced so many great philosophers and artists. Perhaps it is the scented air, veritably OOZING with orange and lemon blossoms. Perhaps it is the stunning landscape: everything from lush almost jungle here in the hills of Volos, to the rolling hills outside Athens, to what I am sure must be gorgeous island scenery (i won’t be getting to an island, I’m afraid). My head has been filled with calm, orderly thoughts. My dreams, however, continue to astound me.

Last night I was drowing in a tsunami when I managed to send a blackberry message to someone. Then the tsunami hit and I was acutely aware of the blackberry being ruined. I think it was satisfaction that I felt. I also dreamed of old university friends being here with me, relaxing on the beach, swimming. Unfortunately, the swimming has remained in my dreams, as the water was a touch cool for a dip today. I would have done it if the sun were just a bit hotter, or if there were no clouds.

Some things I’ve noticed about greece:

Dogs. Large dogs (we are talking German shepherd dogs) are everywhere. They lie on the streets, totally asleep in the centre of a busy square. They sleep on sidewalks. On roads. In alleys. All over the place, and rarely is there an owner in sight, though many do have collars. My cousin proposed that perhaps they belong to the “merchants” on the streets, and wander as their masters sell handbag knockoffs.

Merchants. I’ve seen this set in every country so far. They walk around the street carrying about ten ladies’ purses. I joke with my cousin that these guys are in therapy for their particular fetish. They set up shop on any corner, and are faster than the speed of light when a cop approaches. In one fell swoop, they scoop up their purses and walk down the street as if their ten purses were an intentional accessory for their day’s outing.

People. Greeks are loud adn opinionated. And also generally pretty friendly people. Remind me of my own tribe.

Food. Last night, after arriving in Volos, a port town half way to Thessaloniki from Athens, we went out for dinner. It was eleven pm. We found one seaside restaurant absolutely packed full of people, mostly families. Children screeched, and the crowds at each table seemed to spill in to one another. It was hard to tell who was with whom, though I suspect everyone was somehow related anyway. We had some excellent authentic Greek food, including fried pumpkin (zuchini, really), horitaki salad (?) and shrimp with baked cheese. I plan to return tonight for a fish dish and some more tastiness. At midnight when we left, the place was still packed with families.

My attempt to get to an island failed today, as the cost adn timing just weren’t going to work out for me. But I found myself on a beach nonetheless, and also very high up on a hill just an hour later. The views here in Volos are stunning. I look forward to Thessaloniki, but more immediately, I look forward to tonight’s dinner.

My mantra has become Good Food, Good Sleep, Good Sun. That’s been my goal for this trip, and I am doing pretty well, I’d say!

I’m at an apple store in Athens, the only place i could find internet, and it’s free (bonus!).I have to meet my cousin and uncle in a few minutes, so this will be very short. I am about to be on blogging hiatus for a while. we are setting out for volos and thessaloniki this afternoon, and i am not sure of internet connectivity. Quick notes:The smell of orange and lemon trees here is overwhelmingly lovely. Athens is a big city and I am happy to leave soon. The Acropolis, however, was incredible, and the view amazing.When in Greece, be greasy. Eat at a greasy spoon and feel sick in the morning. Also, avoid washing hair.Don’t cross the street in Athens. Cars blatantly disobey the signs, and even if you wait for your signal, a car is likely to zoom by anyway. Crossing against a signal will be lethal.Sorry for the lousy updates, but that is all `i’ve got at the moment. It seems while travelling my brain likes to occupy itself with grand philosophical questions, as well as severely intense dreams at night. I wake tired and with a knot in my stomach. Perhaps the dreams will deliver some inspiration for art or writing. Or life decision making.In the meantime, I breathe in as much as possible, hoping to be filled with the scent of orange adn lemon. 

Today marks the mid-point of my journey. Three weeks gone and three weeks to go. In a subsequent post I will have to reflect on how I am coming along with the thirty things I wanted to do. But right now, time is short. A few blocks away the Pope is serving Easter Mass, and I think it worth my while to get over there to hear him say the Easter Greetings in all the different languages.

I find I have a newfound respect for writers and bloggers especially. When time is short, I want to just write the facts, and I am actually missing out on a good deal of the impressions I have of where I am or what I am experiencing. But good writers can do both! Ah, I have much to learn.

I celebrated easter with my cousin last night, which was a first for me. Usually we celebrate on Sunday morning, but here the service began at nine thirty and lasted until past one in the morning. I sang with a choir from Switzerland in a language that I can read but couldn’t really understand. It felt familiar and strange at the same time to be there, going through the motions of my traditions, without all the people I usually go through the motions with. I miss those people, and I think next week (when they are all celebrating easter) will be pretty tough for me.

Following the service, there was a traditional meal of ham, eggs, bread, cheese, etc, but I couldn’t really stomach all that food at such a late hour. I met a few interesting people, and thankfully one of them was willing to walk me home. Rome at 3 AM is not where I want to be on my own. The streets were full of people drinking. I suppose this would be true anywhere, adn I am not often around to witness it. It makes me supremely sad, though, to think of what these people have gone through to find themselves alone on a street at such an hour, drinking in to oblivion, instead of celebrating with friends, making music, or even just lying in the embrace of a loved one. Sometimes humanity breaks my heart.

Having finally made it to bed, I barely shut my eyes when my host was waking me to go to the Vatican for mass this morning. She wanted to be a few hours early to ensure a good spot (and a seat). I stayed in bed. I’ll head over shortly to witness the crowds and to see the pope. Easter is both a serious religious holiday and a serious spectacle in Rome. I’m afraid I’m sitting in both camps: one yesterday and another today.  This afternoon I’ve been invited to attend an Easter lunch with high society atop a downtown palace. Perhaps it was hyperbole, perhaps not. Stay tuned to find out…

And I bid fair Venice farewell this morning. The trains were mostly sold out but I managed to find a very slow regional train to bring me back to Rome, where I will be for Easter.

I didn’t leave Venice without buying a pair of Birkenstocks. Score one for the hippie. Easter in Rome is going to be pretty spectacular, and I’m going to try my best to keep up with the writing.

I arrived in Rome tonight and attended a Good Friday service at the oldest Greek Catholic church in Rome. We processed with the shroud outside into the street as local italians and tourists alike took a break from their cafe and restaurant meals to take a look at teh curious sight of candle bearing solemn people singing and marching around the street. Only a few cars honked.