Carpe Diem, Greek Style

Dawn at Eumelia- a Laconian Ideal.

One of the best things about living in Greece full time is the relative tranquility of the spring and fall, the experiences this makes possible, the connections to the rhythms of the existing culture which get covered over in summer by millions of people- often seeking, ironically, just those rhythms. The off-season experience of Greece is often more authentic, more intimate, and that is why it is one of the things I write about, here, and elsewhere. The tourist may seek sun and, often, excitement- nothing wrong with either and in summer there's plenty of both. The traveller, on the other hand, seeks authenticity. But these travellers are sometimes academics, or sometimes parents, or both- people whose holidays, though not short, coincide with the peak season.

The yard outside Dionysus Aeropagitou in Kolonaki

Finding your own private Greece in the high season:

If you find yourself visiting during the high season, you will still find intimacy and stillness in the off peak hours- some of the best in the Greek summer day. Eos- the Goddess who brings the dawn, is famously- and here in Greece, still- described as rosy-fingered. More recently, Lawrence Durrell goes on and on about it:

"The days dawn fine and cool this time of year... their crisp, dry felicity is almost shameful. Wilde would have said something nasty about nature imitating art, but in truth the Greek dawn puts words to flight, and painters out of business."

It's dawn on the Ioanian islands he describes, but it could just as reasonably even be Athens- although hardly cool in July, it is never cooler than it is at 6 am. The birds will wake you- the cicadas are still sleeping at this hour. The old men- skilled in art of carpe diem- are up before daybreak and their cafes are already open. Have a Greek coffee with a thick head of foam on it, "sketo" (no sugar), listen to the rustle of newspapers and the gossip of the morning while the shadows are still long. Or take a daybreak swim- although no matter how early you go, the old men will have beat you to it there as well.

If you have an agenda- and you surely do- greet it at once. Be the first at the Parthenon, before the stones have heated up from the sun. The longer shadows will make for more striking viewing, and there won't be a third as many people as there will be an hour later. If there's any hour suited to contemplation at the Parthenon in summer, this is the only one. (I fell asleep here when I was 14- having not been in Europe but 10 hours, I was still jet-lagged). This surely holds just as true for Knossos. 

Move on to another activity before the great heat sets in. By noon, you could be starting a long lazy lunch, and there is no shame in wine or ouzo at this hour, especially if you were up with the birds.

Mid-day ouzo meze at Dexameni

A rest at Eumelia before the most delightful wine tasting, ever.

Siesta

You'd think it's the heat that makes the siesta so attractive, but really it's two other hallmarks of the mediterranean mid-summer. "The light of Greece opened my eyes, penetrated my pores, expanded my whole being." Henry Miller exaggerates not one bit- and, though glorious, it is not easy to hold up to illumination of such intensity. No Greek house is without shutters to create a refuge from the light of midday, and the quality of the darkness cut through with little knife blades of blinding white on a parquet floor is palpably quenching.

The other thing that will put you to sleep is the cicadas. They are as loud as the light is bright, but their song is so hypnotic that if they stop all of a sudden, which sometimes they do, the silence wakes you like a slap ringing in the air.

Siesta, ideally, is more than a nap. Wash your face, undress, lie between white cotton sheets. Even without wine at lunch, those cicadas will knock you out cold for the most intense sleep you will experience all year- nothing to do with the unconscious hibernation of winter. After vivid dreams, most of which you will remember, you'll awake well before sunset, pleasantly disoriented, and with enough time for an evening swim or dressing for "volta."

Fresh from a deep sleep, enjoy the second morning of the day- a coffee is not out of place. There will be plenty of time for it to wear off.

Dexameni, again- ideal any time of day.

Most romantic restaurant in Athens- Point α- with Travel Bloggers Greece

"Volta"

Promenade- "volta"- is still very much the thing. No one really schlumps around much after 6 pm. Although there are no set rules (heels, a tie), dress as though you will be constantly running into people you like and that they will be asking you to join them for an ouzo, because that is what pretty much always happens. You might want to go to a performance in an ancient theatre, or an outdoor concert, or maybe just a film, seated in deck chairs nestled in white gravel among climbing jasmine, under the stars.  Or there's dinner- late, light, and long- mainly an excuse for conversation and ouzo. Not surprisingly, Lawrence Durrell also weighs in on the pleasures of the Greek night: "It seems a crime to go to bed early in Greece, and even the little children are allowed up very late, so that when they turn in they sleep a really dead-beat sleep, instead of spending the night whining and sucking their thumbs, as so many northern children do." You'll sleep this same dead-beat sleep too, for a few short hours until you wake, refreshed, to another rosy-fingered dawn. 

Intermission of Carmen, at the Herodotus Theatre

Read More »

Guiding Architects- Touring the Beautiful Architecture of Budapest

One of the great things about the Mediterranean lifestyle is that you can so easily slip away from it for a quick, strong dose of Mitteleuropa. An 11 o'clock brunch of feta and eggs in Thessaloniki, and just four and a half hours later I was looking out at the Danube from my balcony at the Gellert.

What makes a perfect dose of Mitteleuropa? For me, architecture and urban planning. Budapest had money when it mattered- historicism run almost amok, proportion ideal, but as to scale... well, when my mouth fell open on seeing the Parliament building on the Pest side through the windows of the tram #19 in Buda, 

the man across from me said "Truly. It is a little embarrassing, so very big...." But- jaw dropping grandeur aside- I wanted history, I wanted context, and most of all I wanted to know what makes Budapest, Budapest. I wanted identity.

With Architect Arne Huber of the Guiding Architects team, I will see- and feel- just that. A hallmark of Budapest is texture- not metaphorical texture but actual, physical texture. The contemporary station of the metro I took to get here was warm and rich in poured concrete and that earthy oxidized steel like Richard Serra uses- I couldn't take my hands off it. The Főutcája- "main street"- beginning at Kálvin tér where we meet greets me right away with the same sense of textual counterpoint- granite for the street, and softer, warmer travertine for the pedestrians. This walk will take us through many facets of the city's style. 

1867 is a pivotal year in the history of the city. The Austro-Hungarian Compromise brought about the Dual Monarchy (a single Head of State- the King of Hungary and Emperor of Austria as one), a huge increase in autonomy for a Hungary previously under Military dictatorship, all aspects of life under Austrian control. It also meant there was money- the 1870's, '80's and '90's were a period of monumental building in Budapest- itself born in this very era, with the merging of Buda, Óbuda (old Buda) and Pest. The city had a population of about a million at the time- making the grandeur per capita ratio pretty extreme- the number and size of opulent buildings are suited to a city many times larger.

What was going on right before that? Lots of large scale, 2 story buildings and Baroque churches.

The 1890's saw the onset of private building commissions. It also saw the advent of advances in construction technology. These combined- there was a new freedom from the historicism that dictated the style of public buildings, and with that, the means to realize this new aesthetic. Arne Huber has cleverly directed my attention to a dull, multi-story parking garage as he gives me this background information. I'm here primarily for the Secession experience; I have some idea of what to expect. When we turn around, Szervita tér #3 surprises me all the same, its facade entirely of curved glass, the weighty (in every possible sense) most improbably supported. It's beautiful.

Ármin Hegedűs' (the name means "violinist") building, originally a luxury department store with office space above, illustrates a lot about things I already know about. Then Arne narrates the mosaic for me, the missing piece that makes it beautiful.  The heroic mosaic is not an abstraction of ideals but a very specific construct of Nationalistic identity. The central goddess Hungaria is victorious, flanked by national heroes Ferenc Rákócz,  leader of the early 18th C uprising against the Habsburgs, and Lajos Kossuth, freedom fighter in the revolution of 1848. Radical structure and avant garde style unite to convey a deeply patriotic message, and that is what makes the Hungarian Secession interesting- it is, in essence, a double secession- forging aesthetic identity against the prevailing historicist styles, and a distinctly Hungarian identity against a past of partial subjugation to Austria. Next door, the Jonas' brother's building winks at Vienna though, in a very pleasant take off of Otto Wagner's Postsparkasse- the visibly attached panels coating the iron frame. 

At the heart of a Secession tour of the architecture of Budapest is Ödön Lechner, father of a distinctly Hungarian Art Nouveau. In his wildness, he gets called "the Hungarian Gaudi" a lot. I mention to Arne that he is at least as innovative, and why aren't we talking about "the Catalan Lechner"? Arne sheds some bright light on the issue- it is not so much a stylistic issue- reliance on tile aside- but a nationalistic one- as Gaudi worked to develop something distinctly Catalan, so Lechner forged a Hungarian identity, as opposed to an Austro-Hungarian identity. Key to this was materials. The "great plain" covers much of Hungary- this is not a nation God built of granite or marble- it is built of earth. Tile, therefore, is the indigenous material, and one which can express a distinctive identity- folkloric, and often whimsical. There is also lots of glazed brick- a local, and democratic, material. I mention the appeal of so economically accessible a building material - "Yes. But also- Lechner grew up next to a brick factory- there was a deeper, more sentimental attachment to the material." His early Art Nouveau Thonet ház - heavy on the Gothic, but not heavy- the curtain wall clearly bears no weight, and is a space for exploring pattern, with a very William Morris feel- Glazed brick is used here to glorious advantage.

We visit Lechner's first building in Budapest. Honestly I'd have passed it without looking up, and having it pointed out I can't see what is radical until Arne points it out- the rhythm is radical- symmetrical, yes, but rather than the standard AAAAA, or even AABAA, Lechner has his huge windows to the sides, for a unique, and then radical, BAAAB rhythm. 

Our tour ends in a grand and tranquil square. The enormous Beaux Arts building flanking the whole of one side is the former Stock Exchange is "available." The world's prettiest US Embassy- Secession style- is off to one side (and cannot be photographed). Just behind the Embassy is Lechner's Postal Savings Bank, a highlight of the city but you can get no distance on it. I went to the roof of St. Stephen's the next day to do so, but too much distance by far.

It is a glorious thing- opulent, esoteric, and deeply democratic with its use of brick and tile. There is a motif- the beehives allude (sweetly) to the building's purpose. The building embodies the deep sense of identity- and whimsy- that characteristic of this classic European capital.

We ended our walk with a coffee in this glass pavilion in Liberty Square,
 a few steps from the Postal Savings Bank

For a tour like mine, or many others, contact:

http://www.guiding-architects.net/architecture-tour/budapest/

Read More »

Loving Pelion- the Ultimate Greek Weekend Destination (Part I- Sunshine)

You know how they say it's about the journey, not the destination? In Pelion (in Greek- Πήλιο "Pilio") it's both. Called the mountain of the Centaurs, Pilio forms the curved peninsula that defines the nearly enclosed Pagasetic gulf. With the coves and rocky beaches of the open Aegean on one side, the gulf on the other, the snow capped mountain above, and the woods all around, getting from one place to another is a pleasure in itself. The best vacation deal in Greece is the 5.60 € bus ticket from Volos to Tsagarades- the first half hour hugging the sea, then a steady climb through forests, postcard villages, and glimpses of the turquoise waters below. 

We're here on a special trip- our Travel Bloggers Greece Anniversary celebration, hosted by the hospitality group Spyrou Philoxenia and the Aglaida Hotel. John Grigoras of Spyrou Philoxenia has planned an ambitious and generous itinerary, which fills up even more as invitations mount. We get to meet a lot of wonderful people. Pilio can offer a staggering range of experiences over the course of a single day- here are some of ours-

Tsagarada

This beautiful village overlooking the sea, snowy Tsagarada is our home for two nights. The well - maintained roads of Pilio are narrow, and few, navigated by the world's most skillful bus drivers. No superhighways mar the landscape. But there is an alternative transportation route: stone pathways - in use for hundreds of years - connect the villages. After a breakfast at the hotel of traditional dishes- cheese pies and στραπατσάδα -strapazada- the region's popular egg and tomato scramble eaten at any time of day - we set out for to the next village on foot. 

Hiking on a 17th C path-
Nikos, our guide from Trekking Greece, is very well-informed- he gives us some history of the region (he also gives us walking sticks to navigate our snowy path). The richness of nature ιs matched by rich architecture - Αρχοντικά - aristocratic homes speaking of a prosperous history rooted in the cotton industry of Egypt (fascinatingly boosted by the American Civil War- with the world's leading cotton exporting nation out of the picture, the already strong Greek industry lead the market). There is little Ottoman influence here. It was untouched until the 17th C, then Murad IV (Sultan reigning from 1623-1640), called "Murad the Hunter" for probably various reasons (he was notoriously brutal)- one of which was actually hunting- delighted in the wild boar, and the region itself and gave it as a present to his mother, forbidding anyone but locals (and the few Viziers who collected taxes from them) to live here. This quality of charmed separateness remains to this day.

Family trip- Daughter Mei Mei with Odysseas Asithianakis (son of Dimitris of 
Photography Traveler)

Marissa of Travel Greece, Travel Europe and Mei Mei
descending into a rocky cove.

It's an easy and exciting hike- a leisurely hour and a half if you don't endlessly stop to gaze and take photos, but of course we do- and you will too. The stone path- sometimes steep enough to be really glad Nikos gave us walking sticks- brings us through dense woods opening up all the time to dramatic sea vistas, waves churning in snug coves, waters so pale opalescent green from above you think it must be summer. It also takes us from the 17th C to the ultra-present- via ...Hollywood. 

Damouchari

Damouchari cove- site of scenes from Mama Mia- is really more like a film set than nature. 

It's a cold January day, but the generous Greek sun is already heating up the golden rocks, begging you to take off your jacket, even wade a little- providing a sharp contrast for the winter pleasures of the afternoon.

Zagora-

On our way, we get another taste of mountain hospitality. Zagora is all plane trees and stone houses, smoke from wood stoves in the air, gray slate roofs and a pretty church. We are given a warm welcome by Sakis of the Hotel Owners Association of Magnesia with a classic Pelion lunch at Patis- wild mushrooms, σπετσοφάι- spezofai- (sausages with peppers and tomato), some greens we love and have never seen before and have to ask the name like three or four times until we get it right- τσιτσίραβλα- tsitsiravla are the leaves of a wild pistachio shrub, pistachio in color, too, served with a small handful of chopped garlic. It would seem bold but the table is covered with individual serving size bottles of τσίπουρο- tsipouro- the region's even bolder spirit.

Chania

Not to be confused with Chania, the Venetian town of western Crete- that one is Chaniά; this one is Chάnia. Zagora has a light dusting of snow. As we zig zag up the mountain, the landscape whitens, branches bent under the weight of the snow. The cleanly plowed road has walls of snow half a story high and the sky is like a pearl. When we arrive at the ski resort, we climb a mountain of plowed snow- no slush, no dirt just- while powder that squeaks when you walk on it and makes perfectly packed snowballs. I've heard you can see the sea from the snowy peaks as you're skiing but nothing has prepared me for what that actually looks like- pure white with the sea shimmering gold in the distance.

After a stop for coffee at the charming mountaintop hotel Manthos, and the cutting of the Travel Blogger's Greece Vasilopita (the Greek New Year's cake with a coin hidden in it for good luck) we wind down the hill in the dusk, time for one last stop.

Church of Agia Marina, Kissos

Kissos
We reach Kissos in darkness but the snow covered charm shines through in the night. Chrysoula of Travel Passionate has been to the Church and says it's wonderful. (Is it open though? No matter- this is our driver's village and he can find the priest if the church is locked). It is wonderful-  

The church is rustic and modest from the outside- stone and a slate roof characteristic of Pilio. But open the doors and it is  all opulence- Pilio wears its wealth discretely.

Travel Bloggers Greece were guests of the Aglaida Apartments- a collection of cottages and small buildings all in traditional Pilion style situated in a stunning location with views to the sea. We were equipped with a kitchenette, phone, and television.

The hotel's traditional slate roofs, with the Aegean in the distance.

Pilio in winter is cold- if you visit in the snowy season (and you really should- that combination of the Aegean + snowy peaks is out of this world), bundle up. But don't worry- a roaring fireplace and a warming tsipouro are never far away.

Next up- Pilio in the rain, and endless dining- a romantic winter Sunday.

Where is drinking elevated to a form of art?: Drinking Tsipouro in Volos.

Read More »

A Drive to Gytheio, Peloponnese, is all Curves and Romance

While I was visiting Eumelia a couple of weeks ago, we spent an evening in Gytheio with our hosts. The drive was all green and rocky and curvy with the sea weaving in and out of view- very Grace Kelly via Hitchcock. And on that note, you won't find a more confident driver than Janet- who grew up driving an endless assortment of vintage cars in various states of repair. She takes a curve with control and style, and there are plenty of them.

Also, I'm not so easy to drive with- "Oh!" then "Oh!" every time we take a new corner - it's like the landscape is posing. Summing up the coastal drive down the central peninsula of the Peloponnese- it is beautiful, but more than that, it is stylish. You feel chic just careening around in it, taking snapshots.

I imagine the thrill of taking the road during a winter storm, waves lashing the car.

As soon as we enter Gytheio I enjoy a flashback to a '70's Dachia with no seat belts (Mei Mei's godfather secured the car seat with a fat rope), en route to Kythera- from Gytheio you can go to Kythira, Antekythira, Crete. There were two boats a day- morning and evening. I remember we had a reservation, so a priest had to drive off the boat to make space for us. We didn't see anything of Gytheio- just the line of cars for the ferry. i see it now- a town of ferries and fishing boats, it has the self-sufficient charm of a place that doesn't really care if you are there or not. 

The fishing boats set out at sunset; children dance in the plateia:

These are cheerful sights, but to be honest, there is a faint melancholy in the humid air, a romantic kind of melancholy. We see an island with a beautiful lighthouse, connected by a short causeway. Out there, among the pines, the wistful mood takes deeper hold -

-only to be banished when we return to the mainland and see the blue and white checkered tablecloths at a taverna so close to the sea you could fall right in. We stroll, and soon meet our hosts. And we walk to the very same taverna of my dreams, and we do sit dangerously close to the sea, but no one falls in, and we have a great time. Actually, a perfect time, and a perfect meal- I think the calamari- fried crisp and juicy and dry on the outside-not a bit greasy- are the high point, but that turns out to be the plate of red mullet to come. Fried fresh mullet taste like crab that has decided to become a fish. Georgia, our hostess, has kindly invited us, and I want to thank her mother for the excellent cooking.

In the front of the restaurant, a gentleman watches the match- England is losing to Iceland (this just after the brexit vote) in the UEFA final sixteen. Well, it is Georgia's father, and he caught the mullet we loved that very morning. He beams with pride, and leaves the photos to his wife and daughter.

The sweet melachcholia of the island had by now faded from my heart completely- the lively conversation, the ouzo, the fish. "Did you go to Kranai?" The island has a name? I tell Frangisko we did, and that it was sweet but somehow a little forlorn (like a crush that doesn't turn out like it should.)

"Kranai is where Paris consummated his relationship with Helen, and it was from here they left for Troy." A beautiful explanation- the ultimate, epic, crush gone wrong at its romantic beginning.

The perfect meal-

If you go to Gytheio, you can have the quintessential taverna meal- tables at the waters' edge, the freshest seafood, and the warmest service - at Trata (the name means small fishing boat).

The perfect home away from home-
As for Eumelia, I miss the velvet black skies and the olive trees at dawn a little every day.

Getting here was easy, but also and adventure. KTEL buses leave several times a day from the Kifissos KTEL station in Athens (get the #51 bus on Menandrou street near Omonia square). The grungiest of bus stations makes a great contrast to the drama of the canal of Corinth and the mountains of Taygetos you will be seeing on your way.

More on our stay at fabulous Eumelia:

The most delightful wine tasting ever.

Tea time starts early in the Garden of Eden.

Read More »