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

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What's the Best Time to Visit Mykonos? Have it all to yourself in March

March in Mykonos is all anticipation- buzzsaws and oil paint. Construction zones turn into fully stocked boutiques, literally overnight. The Nepheli, first cruise ship of the season, is arriving in four days. 

But, until then, we have the place to ourselves.

I'm thinking it's the perfect time to see what real Mykonos is like, because this is an unreal place, where the Louis Vuitton is right across from the public grammar school, and the kiosk sells bubblegum, cuban cigars, and splits of Asti- dry and demi-sec. 

I was here once in August, three days during which I heard Lykke Li's "I follow rivers" not less than 40 times (2011, for those of you who have lost track of the decade's better Sommerschlagen). I'm listening to it right now on youtube, while the rain is pelting the windows. What's Mykonos like when you strip away the pop and the passarella? 

You have to dodge a lot of tricycles- the little kid ones, and the ones workmen navigate the picturesque alleys with, stacked with sacks of cement and 10 liter buckets of white paint. Paint- people are wielding paint brushes dipped in white in every alley- painting walls, the spaces between the stones to set the stage for a Cycladic fantasy. Sawdust fills the air. It feels and smells exactly like a theatre production three days before opening night, sans actors- round the clock work- no tension, but no one is taking a break either. The few cafes that are open are still empty.

But the churches are full- even for Greece, there are a lot of churches, none larger than a 2 family house. The icon of the virgin was waked down in a procession from Ano Mera- the island's inland, hilltop capital- on the feast day of St. Theodoros, and will be staying at the church of St. Kyriaki until the feast day of St. Lazarus.

You think there will be this tourist fantasy Mykonos in the picturesque harbor, and that the "real" Mykonos is somewhere else. But the seafront of the Chora (in Greece, the main town of an Island is called the "Chora"- with a super-soft "ch," like in "challah") has a double life- as Greece's ultimate status promenade, and as a place to smack octopus on the pier (100 times makes it tender). When the boat from Delos gets in- that's just a couple of times a week- men and women with sacks of wild greens they gathered on the sacred grounds disembark along with the three or four tourists.

And every day that the boats can leave harbor- winter and summer- the fisherman sell the dawn's catch from a kiosk of marble slabs right in the sand-

They share the beach- one of the most coveted, prestigious stretches of waterfront in the Mediterranean- with five or six pick-up trucks filled with tomatoes that, thanks to the dry cycladic soil, are heavy with flavor even in early March, and sacks of wild greens:

And they'll still be here for melon season, too. 

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The Perfect Visit to the Acropolis

The Acropolis is at its most majestic at the edges of the day. 

A favorite family photo captures me at the Parthenon,  chin on my chest, asleep.  We had arrived the night before, our first time in Europe, had bad tea and rolls at the President hotel in that dining room in the basement in the light of the "rosy fingered dawn"- this was a trip with a syllabus. It was not adolescent ennui- just jet lag. That first visit to the Parthenon is an amazing thing, especially since, up until the day before, my experience of the past had reached no further back than Colonial Williamsburg.

Visits after that were less moving. The present intruded: necessary scaffolding, the clanging of machinery, and just so many people in such vivid summer attire.

But on recent chilly Sunday, under a dramatic sky, the monumentality of it all came back. It was crowded, but stark, visitors- many of them Greek- bundled up against the first cold evening. Above the murmur of the crowds was a crisp, patriotic sound- the enormous flag, rippling and snapping loud in gusts of high wind.

At sundown, the sites close. Guards, lots of them, advance all around from the perimeter, blowing whistles, tightening the circle of visitors. It was a glorious night, and- in a way that never seems to happen in a museum, for instance- a bond arose among the visitors, many lingering at the edges of the radius, slowing the process down for the group. It was like we were waiting for something, and it wasn't the sunset, because it had just happened to gasps and flashes. In the reluctant stroll to the Propylaia, we were unexpectedly victorious, our exit blocked rather than hastened.

Always on a Sunday

On Sundays, the Evzones (the Greek Presidential Guard), dressed in traditional uniform, ascend the Acropolis in a formal procession, accompanied by the military band playing the Greek national anthem. They raise the flag in the early morning, and come again at sunset to take it down. These two symbols of the glory of Greece coming together- ancient heritage and the rebirth of Greece (the Evzones wear the uniform of the revolution) is unexpectedly moving.

The earliest visitors will take in the procession in the freshness of morning, in the relative solitude before the crowds arrive. The evening visitors will have the advantage of the hush the sunset invariably invites. 

If a Sunday proves impossible, a visit at the very beginning or very end of the day is still the most rewarding. The low sun, the stillness of the hour, makes for a contemplative mood, no matter how crowded.

The Karyatids know best.

The visiting hours for the Acropolis change seasonally- check before your visit.

The Acropolis and other monuments and museums are free on the first Sunday of each month, from October to March.

More Monuments at Sunset:

Cape Sounio, and the Passionate Delinquents of the 19th C

The Acropolis Museum by Night

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Best Food Experiences in Greece- A Dining Journal from 2016

It's very hard to get a bad meal in Greece; I didn't have a single one all year. The bar is high. But these meals were memorable- elegant or simple, they were marked by something personal and authentic.

Lobster Macaroni, in a wet bathing suit, on a day trip from Eumelia to Limeni, Peloponnese

I'm willing to bet that pretty much anything tastes great after a swim in the clearest cool waters of the most dramatic cove the Mediterranean has to offer, and also that pasta with lobster would be delicious in a basement in Cleveland. But having it while still wearing a damp bathing suit, in the shade, overlooking the sea, and drinking chilled white wine with people you really like, is the very essence of Greece.

Anything at Chez Violette, Exarchia, Athens

My first meal of the year was a New Year's Eve dinner with my mother and younger daughter at Chez Violette- a restaurant so warm and so real it is the essence of a Greek experience. What did we have? I really don't remember, and also who cares? Everything is always delicious but they are so charming and welcoming that the perfect onion soup gratin or salad with warm chevre is besides the point. That meal set the tone for the year.

French fries, Archangel, Almopia

"Mountain Potatoes, Archangel"

After a hike and a visit to a monastery in beautiful high altitude Archangel, our hosts in Almopeia brought us to the taverna in the town square. We warmed our hands over the wood burning stove, drank red wine, and ate french fries that were so good we asked if the guy they bought the potatoes from would sell us a sack. He came back and we bought some.

Galatopita, Mana's Kouzina Kouzina, Athens

Mana's Kouzina Kouzina opens onto everyone's favorite square in Athens- Agia Irini. It's also a crossroads of cuisine- traditional recipes from all over Greece are revived from obscurity. Better still, they are made with ingredients sourced from small and medium Greek producers. It'a all authenticity here, free of mutinational blah. Try bold all natural Greek made sodas that put Orangina to shame, or better yet a Greek craft beer picked by beer sommelier Giannis. Why have the galatopita, a milky sweet nourishing custard in a shell? Because of the recipe- according to chef Dimitris, "It's just milk, and a little love."

Goat with trahana, Gastrodromio, Litohoro

Fairly famous, Louis Vuitton-guide-endorsed chef Andreas Gavris impressed us with an imaginative menu of modesty- beans, anchovies, inexpensive cuts of meat served over pasta's humble cousin- trahana. Amidst an economic crisis and an influx of over half a million refugees, a menu free of ostentation was in supremely good taste, and one of the year's most elegant in every regard.

Ouzo with Mezze, Maria's cafe, Asomatos, Lesvos

Lesvos was the trip of the year. We visited many places, but we somehow felt like we lived in Asomatos, even if just for an hour or two. At Maria and Stratos' cafe, we had ouzo and koromila, beets, olives, and cheeses, one- rich and crumbling- was made by Stratos' mother, from her own sheep. She was radiant.

"Olives" at Point α, Athens

You can't get a better view of the Acropolis. But the centerpiece- olive branches by a jeweler- draws a second glance. The olives are not metal though- they look almost velvety. "Take one" Jenny our hostess says. It's not velvet- it's frost! A layer of green olive oil sorbet coats my mouth, then there's a rich, savory olive ice cream I enjoy for a moment longer. It's served with rustic whole wheat bread, like you would have if you were eating under a plane tree at your aunt's house if your aunt were from a village in Crete with a wood burning oven. Not such a fanciful analogy- the team of two chefs are from Crete. At the core of the fantasy at a dinner at Point α, there is pure, beautiful truth.

Chez Violette
Kalidromiou 69, Athens 
210 384 5974

Manna's Kouzina Kouuzina

Ailolou 27, Athens
210 325 2335

Gastrodromiou 
Ag. Nikolao 36, Litochoro
23520 21300

Point α

Rovertou Galli 4, Athens

210 923 6832

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Inspiring Destinations in Greece: 2016 was all Beauty and Character

2016, a year of sadness and loss in so many ways, was generous in experience and inspiration. When you blog and write about travel, experiencing is the very core of the vocation, and the year was rich in it- from the grittiest of ouzeries to five star rooftop gourmet heavens, we had many fabulous experiences. 

It's not the beauty that keeps Greece fascinating: it's the fact that the beauty represents an ideal. It has been a hard year for many in Greece, and throughout Europe, for the people already here and for the refugees being welcomed every day.  Reflecting on the many wonderful, authentic experiences I had, a handful stand out.

It all comes down to character. 

Lesvos:

Giorgos- our host, guide, and friend -
on a dirt road high above the sea, 
the most beautiful and remote place we visited all year.

The longing strains of Amanes reveal a part of the island's exotic, elusive identity 

Skala Eressos- world's most romantic beach. But no need to take my word for it:
"When I look on you a moment, then I can speak no more, but my tongue falls silent, and at once a delicate flame courses beneath my skin, and with my eyes I see nothing, and my ears hum, and a wet sweat bathes me and a trembling seizes me all over."-Sappho

By the measure of character and beauty both, Lesvos was the destination of the year. Some friends and I from Travel Bloggers Greece were invited on a unique trip to experience the beauties of an island whose shores have welcomed over a half a million refugees (more like 600,000). That was the true beauty - the grace and compassion. Tourism on Lesvos has suffered. This dynamic woman, Maria, invited us to stay at their Natura Studios in Skala Kalloni. Her husband Giorgos took us all around the island in a 4 wheel drive, sharing their lives with us. Angeliki and Vassiliki from the regional authority arranged our airtickets, Eva distillery a celebration of the island's culture, Gabriela a wonderful day in Molyvos. We fell in love with Lesvos, an island that represents the best Greece has to offer on every level- nature, history, music (amanes), the refined pleasures of ouzo, charm, and - best of all - grace.

Istanbul:

Charlene, just learning that the suicide bomb we heard had killed ten people. 

The year started with sadness. My first morning ever in Istanbul was also my first brush with the brutality growing around us. We could hear the explosion at the Blue Mosque, then a long silence, then sirens, then helicopters. After such a traumatic event, our main impression remained the gracious, refined behavior of the people of Istanbul, an inspiring example of living life with grace.

Evia:

Our otherworldy winter paradise in Evia

Right after Istanbul was our Anniversary get-together, for which I had no heart after Istanbul. Voula Karat and the family at Thermae Sylla gave us an experience that was therapeutic on every level, and it was a joyous occasion. Being with blogger friends made all kinds of sense- embrace life, and share the experience.

Almopeia:

Pater Illarion inspires with a message of banishing misery and
embracing joy in everyday life

Almopeia is a quiet region in the north of Greece, known in the city chiefly as a destination for therapeutic hot springs. They are open all day and night, and an hour's drive will bring you. This makes them a wholesome cap to an evening of excess: that hot waterfall pounds the effects of any ill judgement right out of you. But on this trip, I found rejuvenation not in the falls, but in the words of a priest. He had found that in replacing "I have to" with "I want to" grace and joy has filled his life. I tried it- it works.

Eumelia:

Marilena, our sommelier, was literally bursting with life- 
The most engaging wine tasting ever.

In July, my friend Janet and I visited Marilena and Frangiskos to share in the vision of their bio-dynamic Eumelia. Frangiskos left an EU job in Brussels, drawn by the creative possibilities of living in harmony with the environment.  Theirs is a constant evolution, giving rise that extend to philosophies touching every area of life. And don't imagine some Guru/cleansing thing- we had an abundantly great time- pure joy. My most recommended trip for 2017 would be their fully curated (and sumptuously catered) "Experience, feel, taste Laconia" week.

Kilkis:

Olga and Natalia of the Pikrolimni Cultural Society 

The last trip of the year was local- Kilkis, landlocked and not even remotely touristy. Kilkis is known for its livestock and dairy, the fish of its lakes. We found serenity (Greece's Haiku Destination), endurance, and, indeed, wonderful hospitality. At Pikrolimni was the warmest of all; we arrived at the cultural center to find a grill smoking and a long table set up. They shared their cuisine with us- local Pontian specialties like piroshkis, and dark delicious wine.  It was the highlight of our trip. That is what Greece does at its best- make you feel truly welcome.

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Greece's Epiphany - Water and Light after Twelfth Night

Epiphany is Greece's purest religious holiday. Christmas is happily subdued; Easter's secular aspect runs amok, often on 12 cm heels. Glorious days mark the Orthodox calendar, but none so literally cleansing as this most bracing of holidays.

We are expecting a cold snap now- sometime over twelfth night the temperatures are expected to plunge into freezing, making the morning's ritual more testing. Commemorating the baptism of Christ, all the waters- every bay, open sea, lake, and river will be blessed. That involves throwing in a cross, and someone bringing it back. Our house is by the sea, and all of the neighborhood's congregations will form colorful processions to the waterfront starting around 10:30, led by priests and richly robed altar boys. Young men of the congregations board boats with the priest. He will throw a cross far into the water and after a breathless hush - a fraction of a second - the young men will dive after it and we all gasp, even though we know what we're expecting. It's a thrilling moment- a display of bravery and strength, vanquishing the brutal elements on behalf of us all.

We return to the church, the mood a little boisterous. Inside, the line moves quickly as we approach the altar for our blessing, a brisk bask of a great bundle of basil fresh and damp with holy water to the forehead and each shoulder. the air is sweet with the scent of it. Outside the church, holy water flows though spigots from huge vessels and we fill the containers we have brought from home. We sip some, and bring it back for anyone still at home to to take. We give some to out pets, and pour a little into each of our plants, blessing home and its every living thing.

Celebrating today are names that have to do with light and the heavens and Divine joy, like Fotis and Foteini, Urania, and Theoharis.

Anything you do with water today should be particularly blessed. (It's even a good day to bathe your dog.)

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Melomacarona- Holiday Cookie of Greece

Christmas is not Christmas without Melomacarona in Greece- these are crumbly syrup drenched cookies with orange and cinnamon and honey (the "Melo" in the name comes from "Μέλι" = honey). I made these once in 1990 and they were perfect. the recipe was written on a scrap of paper I lost, and I never ate one I liked as well, so I never bothered making them again until now. This is a hybrid of several recipes- taking what I liked of each, to make a cake like moist cookie sweet with cinnamon, filled with minced walnuts, and scented with orange and a little liquor. 

This is a project, but not a difficult one, and it makes a mountain of cookies, and the house smells fantastic for days afterwards. A nice plus- in a season of butter and eggs, this is a cookie vegans will love.

Syrup-

Boil together for 4-5 minutes, untilsugar is disolved:

3 C sugar

3 C water

half of an orange with its peel

4 whole cloves

3 cinnamon sticks

pinch salt

then add:

2/3 C honey

Let cool completely.

In a your largest bowl, blend-

1/3 C sugar

zest of 2 oranges

- until the oils are released and the sugar is like bright orange wet sand

then add:

1 C fine semolina

8 C all purpose flour

1 1/2 tsp. baking soda
3/4 tsp. baking powder

1/2 tsp. salt

2 T cinnamon (if you just opened it and it's sweet and fresh. Otherwise 3)

nice pinch ground cloves

a few grinds of fresh nutmeg

In another bowl, blend:

1 2/3 C fresh orange juice

1 C vegetable oil

1 C good olive oil

3-4 tablespoons brandy or whiskey or whatever you like

Pour into the dry mixture and blend quickly and very lightly with your hands. If you over-mix or kneed it, the oil will seep out if the dough. Be quick, decisive, casual.

Chop well:

2 C walnuts

and add:

a little cinnamon, a spoon full of sugar, a little booze to moisten

Now take a piece the size of a walnut, flatten it into a disc, and put a little nut mixture int he middle. Seal the dough around it into an oval, and mark with a cake cutter or fork or anything to make decorative indentations to catch the syrup.

Bake at 180 C/375 F for 22-25 minutes, until deep golden. They will lighten first, then darken again. Hot from the oven, put them into the syrup- bottom side down, then after a minute turn them over and leave them ten minutes. (Most recipes say ten seconds). Then let them drain on a rack.

They will be wet and sticky but still crispy at first, but the syrup will gradually seep into every crumb.

More on holidays:

Kourabiedes are butter rich and light as a snowflake

Christmas in Greece

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