My address, for those interested

I finally have an address for my current location.  I will be living here until December 10th or so.

Charley Helms
c/o Barry Tagrin - HISA
Box 11
Parikia, Paros, Cyclades 84400, Greece

Keep in mind that the combination of international shipping and Greek island post means that it can take anywhere from 3-5 weeks for packages, and probably nearly that for letters - so if you intend to send something, do it before mid November to make sure I'm actually here to get it.

If you want to cough up the international phone rate, I have a Greek cell phone number as well - email me and I'll be happy to send it to you.  It's free for me if I'm receiving the call, so I can talk as long as your wallet holds out :)

Delos and Mykonos - from the birthplace of Apollo to Petros the Pelican

Although I'm a few days behind in posting my last couple of entries, our class took a trip to the islands of Delos and Mykonos, for a combination of historical site seeing (Delos) and plain old tourism (Mykonos).

An 8 AM boat ride in marginally rough seas normally sounds terrible, at least to a land-lubber like me.  Although I sometimes wish I was a fisherman or sea boat captain of some sort, the truth is that I will probably always be a mere passenger.  If the appearance of the sea wasn't enough, one of the professors was handing out Dramamine (or something like it) to anyone even slightly concerned about motion sickness.  Despite all of that, most of us were actually in good spirits.

The ferry we took to Delos was considerably smaller than the car ferry we took from Athens to Paros.  This boat was perhaps 70' long, and held maybe 150 or 200 passengers (assuming all the seats are ever filled).  I thought smugly when boarding 'this boat is a catamaran design, it doesn't matter what the ocean is like, we'll be fine!'  Somehow Greece has a way of working any hubris right out of me, because that boat rocked like a bucking bronco.  From the lower (inside) deck, the keeling was significant enough to fill the view from one side's view entirely with sky, while simultaneously filling the other side with a view of waves.  The top deck, maybe 15 or 20 feet from the surface of the water, we were splashed on multiple occasions.  Amazingly, despite the fact that I didn't take Dramamine, and that all but perhaps two of our group are certified land lubbers, only one person out of 30 got seasick.  Most of us actually enjoyed the ride, as long as we didn't try to walk while the boat was under way.

Arriving at Delos was a strange experience.  The place has been uninhabited for centuries, yet miles of low stone walls still criss cross the extremities of the island.  As we neared the sacred harbor, dozens of ruins of buildings and temples came into view, extending from the base of mount Kynthos all the way to the sea (there are actually some columns whose bases are still lapped by the surf).  There is a significant ancient neighborhood, remarkably intact, near the debarkation point for the ferries.  Within the walls of the homes, interior plaster is still visible in places, and a few of the more opulent homes still show beautiful mosaic floors. One displays some rather devious looking dolphins, others resemble rugs, and others have various nautical or religious themes. 

The effect of so many remarkably intact ruins is eerie.  It would seem more appropriate for the island to have been abandoned 50 years ago, not several times that number.  Some of the streets and alleys still seem to cling to the liveliness and bustle they held when Delos was a trading city, filled with rich merchants and foreign travelers.  I almost expected to see a child duck his head from one of the doorways, or to see someone draw water from the cisterns located in each home. 

Since the 5th Century BC, two specific acts have been forbidden on the island - birth and death.  Due to the sanctity of the island, as the mythical birthplace of Apollo and (sometimes) Artemis, much of its most ancient history is purely religious or ceremonial.  Thus there is a disproportionate number of temple ruins on Delos.  It has also been the site of pilgrimages for centuries - Homer even composed his "Hymns" here, on the top of Mount Kynthos.  The spot is marked with a short concrete pillar, which also happens to be my favorite part of the island.  The view here, ruins aside, is astounding - and the intensity with which the wind buffets you there is both entertaining and frightening - it almost seems as though an angry god is attempting to cast you from his mountaintop.

The island is as barren now as it was in ancient times, but it still carries an odd beauty all its own.  Looking over the Aegean to Mykonos from atop Mount Kynthos, I can begin to understand what inspired Homer so many centuries back.  It would be hard not to at least try to write hymns to the deity responsible for such a sight.

Mykonos was somewhat more typical of the Cyclades - a beautiful island, a picturesque town, filled to the brim with tourists.  Mykonos features a harbor deep enough for massive cruise liners, and there were three there on Sunday.  Like Naoussa on Paros, Mykonos seems to have at least something of a fishing community still thriving, and seafood was definitely prominent on every menu there.  After lunch, I conned a few fellow students (Marissa, Drew, Alex) into wandering in the general direction of 'up, and away from the tourists.'  We got to follow a mountain road with a view of the sea the entire way - and along the way we saw homes with what must be some of the best views in the world.

I believe that's about enough for now, it's nearing 6 AM here and I have noticed that there is an exponential relationship between sleep deprivation and stupid typos/grammatical errors in my blogging.

Pictures will be added soon!

More solitary wanderings, and photos

I spent most of Saturday wandering around Paros alone, utilizing my old 'navigating by general directions' method of exploration.   I find that I generally have much better clarity of mind, focus, and even patience when I'm alone, and I have also realized that there is something sacred about walking that I can't fully explain.  The most reliable way for me to recenter and think deeply is to take a long, solitary, quiet walk in a place of beauty.  I certainly got what I was looking for Saturday.

I certainly left prepared - I brought along my camera, a couple of liters of water, and my swim trunks just in case.  What I ended up seeing, again, didn't photograph well - but I snapped a few worthy shots.  I managed to find much more wildlife than I expected.  First I encountered about a half dozen medium sized lizards, perhaps 4-5" long, sunning themselves on some construction debris near the road.  A little farther down the road I was surprised to see a small owl, who greeted me by turning his head almost completely around and watching me as I walked.  Not far from the owl, I walked past a very distrusting donkey's pasture.  There wasn't a moment I was in sight that the donkey wasn't watching me closely, trying to decide just how much of a threat I might be.  When I took two steps up the wall on his side of the road, still perhaps 150 meters away, he began loudly grunting and tossing his head, as if to say 'I know you don't belong here.'

When I set off, I didn't have a concrete idea of where I was heading.  All I knew was that I wanted a high vantage point with a view of both Paros harbor and the Aegean sea.  After encountering three dead ends in the form of high priced gated neighborhoods, I finally discovered the right path.  A small dirt road led me past a spectacular house, to the top of a cliff that dropped straight into the foamy cobalt of the Aegean.  I perched myself on a nook in the white marble and spent the next 2 hours writing, photographing, admiring, and even (briefly) sleeping.

Paros, unsurprisingly, is a windy place - after all, it's a tiny bastion of land in the midst of Poseidon's lair.  I never would have guessed how much wind Paroikia is shielded from had I not chosen a quiet place overlooking the ocean.  The cliff I was sitting on seems to provide a buffer to Paroikia from the strongest of the sea breezes.  I realized very quickly that steady footing in such situations is extremely important, as the wind can be severe enough to seriously knock me off my balance if I stop paying attention.

Unfortunately, even remote islands support both human and insect life in abundance, and I was awakened from a very pleasant nap by a swarm of tiny ants chowing down on my shoulder.

I must let my photos do the rest of my talking.  As much as solitude and beauty can assist in deep thinking, being able to walk or sit with only the random thoughts that occur to me is also something I enjoy.

Photo notes:
Any visible town is Paroikia, where I am living.
Please excuse my temporary fixation on fuzzy plants in the foreground.  It seemed like a cool idea at the time.
I still can't take a picture with the horizon where it should be.

A bit more on Paros

I haven't taken any new photos for a few days - sorry to disappoint!  But I have had some noteworthy experiences, the most interesting of which I will start with.

Tonight I got the distinct pleasure of watching a thunderstorm roll in over Parikia Bay and the mountains along its far side.  I was walking with a group of students after dinner toward a gelateria when we started to notice lightning.  By the time we arrived at the ice cream parlor, it had become a full on fireworks show.

The bolts of lightning we witnessed sometimes streaked across the entire visible horizon, often lasting for nearly a full second before disappearing, leaving only the purple and white trails in our eyes.  The thunder coming from the storm was mostly deflected by the mountains opposite our position, but what could be heard was low and rumbling, lasting much longer than I'm used to hearing.  More distant strikes lit up entire patches of clouds in an eerie bluish glow that lingered a moment before pausing, only to appear a few moments later somewhere else in the sky. 

I can begin to understand why the ancients believed there was a mischievous god behind the clouds, throwing thunderbolts and wreaking havoc. Such a fireworks show could never be matched by men!  Such a storm is a reminder that as despite our progress, we still must humble ourselves in the face of nature's (and therefor God's) power.  We may be able to harness the atom, but we will never tame the lightning.

We watched the lightning for perhaps 45 minutes from the boulders on the shoreline, and as we headed back to the ice cream parlor, Sophie noticed something odd - her hair was standing on end.  The static from the impending storm had actually accumulated in her hair enough to make it stand on end - the effect was quite a sight to behold.  As we stood marveling at her new power, I heard a rushing sound coming from the sea, much like the sound of a strong wind through a forest.  I looked out to sea, and noticed a distinct wall of rain rushing in our direction.  I managed to warn the group just in time to get everyone inside just as it descended upon us.  I've never seen such a well defined wall of rain before, and I am almost certain everyone else in our small group witnessed it as well.

Unfortunately I didn't have my camera, and taking photos of such an event would have been nearly impossible.  I also failed to bring my camera to one of the most spectacular sunsets I've ever had the privilege of viewing.  The sky was half cloudy, half clear, and the margins of the scattered clouds glowed with a fierceness and color that only appears in the waning moments of daylight.  The reflection of the sun in the calm water, the small ripple like waves, the sailboat anchored just off shore, and the Parian windmill in the background made the entire scene somewhat too ideal to be reality.  If it is even possible to put what I saw into a digital image, it would shame any postcard I've ever seen.  Unfortunately, again I didn't have my camera handy. 

Other than our weather excitement, I have been spending too much of my time at the beach, enjoying the perfect weather and extremely calm, warm water.  I'm still blown away by the clarity of the water here - unless my memory deceives me, it is clearer than both the Bahamas and Hawaii, and it actually seems to be nearly as warm as Nassau.  It has, however, been a long time since I was there, so that might be fault recall.

I still love Parikia and Paros in general, but I have a lot of exploring left to do!

First impressions of Paros/Parikia

I am officially here on the island, settled in where I will be spending the next three months of my life.  It's unfortunate that I can't convey the huge grin saying that gives me.  This place is beyond amazing.  The island itself is small, someone today said 7 miles by 7 miles, but it has two 'major' towns and maybe a baker's dozen smaller villages.  I am living in the largest, Paroikia (actually pronounced Parikia, weird transliteration from Greek to English).  This is a very popular tourist island, so the waterfront is lined with tavernas, bars, cafes, and hotels, along with a few motorcycle rental outfits and grocery stores. 

We have better accommodations than I could have imagined.  Each student gets their own apartment with a shower, mini-kitchen, and fridge, plus a personal balcony.  I'm on the first floor so I don't have much of a view, but we are far enough from the beach that we can't actually see the water (we're actually only about 500 yards from the water, but the land is very flat between here and there, so the neighboring buildings obstruct the view would could have had). 

The people on the island are very friendly so far.  Life here is a little bit more laid back than even Thessaloniki or Athens.  Each day most of the shops close from around 2:00-6:00PM for something like siesta, and reopen until late in the night.  I walked into a jewelry store last night to buy a chain for one of my crosses at 10:00, and we wandered into a brass worker's shop about the same time tonight.  The people are very used to Anglophone tourists, and most seem more friendly about speaking English than their mainland counterparts. 

We got a bus tour of the island today, including a few stops in Naoussa (the other 'major' town here).  This place really does revolve around the sea - there are fishing boats everywhere, and as we walked along the marina in Naoussa there were racks of fish and octopus drying in the sun.  The white and blue buildings everyone imagines when they think of Greek islands really are quite common here, especially in the older areas of town.  The winding, narrow alleys and odd arrangement of buildings was at least partially a practical matter - it's easier to defend your town from pirates if they can't find their way to kill you, and even easier if you can throw boiling oil at them from places they can't reach.  In that way, the entire old town is a kind of castle in itself. 

While the coast is home to the most warm, clear, blue water I have ever seen (trumping even the Bahamas and Hawaii by a huge margin), the interior is mountainous and arid.  The only real green I see in large amounts are hardy olive trees and a surprising number of cacti.  The mountains are miniatures of those found in Northern Greece, with wide valleys filled with olive groves and livestock.  The difference in topography between interior and coast is striking, and from either spot there are few clues to what lies just a couple of kilometers from you. 

We also visited Lefkes village, which was at one point used as the island seat of Paros, due to its less vulnerable inland position.  Here the streets are arranged in the same way as old Paroikia and Naoussa, but they are in the side of mountains rather than the coastal foothills.  I didn't have much time to explore here, but I definitely intend to go back and spend at least a couple of days wandering around. 

In more mundane news, I have signed up for classes, which is actually very exciting news for me.  I am taking Philosophy, Literature, Creative Writing, Historical Sites of the Eastern Mediterranean, and modern Greek.  The Lit and CW classes are taught by authors, and the Philosophy class is taught by the head of the HISA program.  I am actually most pumped about modern Greek right now, though - I didn't know that was going to be an option until Friday, and one of my main goals being in Greece was to learn Greek.  This means I don't have to set the lessons up myself, which is both helpful and helpful for my budget. 

Whilst walking to lunch with a group of students yesterday, I randomly mentioned that I wanted to buzz my head at some point in the near future, and one of the girls immediately jumped on with "me too!"  So we had a small haircut party on one of the decks, ending with Mattie's head being buzzed short and mine being made into a mohawk.  After about two hours of running around with punk hair, we finished the job and I'm now a closely cropped and very different looking person.  Although my change is nowhere near as drastic as Mattie's. 

Mattie's bravery also helped one of the other girls (Lorin) decide to finally take the plunge, and we now have 2 buzzed guys and 2 buzzed girls. 

I had forgotten how nice a buzzed head is when you're outside a lot, especially if there is water involved.  It's nice to dry off in 15 minutes instead of an hour. And for the girls it must be especially nice.

Tomorrow is my first day of class (actually later today..) so I will leave you with what I have here. 

My photos all seem to list slightly to the right - I apologize in advance for any that are especially heinous.  I make frequent use of the 'focus lock' button when taking a shot with focus near the edge of the frame, but the reach to do both that and release the shutter makes me hold the camera at odd angles. Practice makes perfect, I hope.

My solitary travels end, and a new crowd emerges

I have finally decided to shake off the cobwebs in my mind and write a little bit before I retire for the evening.  A lot has happened since I last updated this blog and at least some of it is noteworthy.

The morning after my excellent final dinner at the Paramythi Taverna with Helene and Amandine, I bought my train ticket back to Athens to meet my HISA classmates and prepare for the ferry trip to Paros.  I was pleasantly surprised the morning of my departure from Kalambaka to see both of my new friends on their way to town from Kastraki.  As it turns out, we were taking the same train, at least for the first bit of our journey.  Between lunch and my train's departure at 6 PM, I alternated between grocery shopping and drinking coffee.  The portion of my train ride with my friends consisted mostly of a French card game I'd never heard of before.  Their connection to Thessaloniki came about an hour into my 5 hour trip, unfortunately.

My arrival in Athens was uneventful, and I successfully navigated both the metro and the Plaka streets to find the Dioskounos Hotel where our group was to meet.  As luck would have it, I met one of the HISA teachers and one assistant (Sarah and Adam) as I approached the door to the hostel.  After settling my bill with the hostel owner, I did my best not to wake up my room mate while settling in.

The next couple of days were a mixture of catching up on sleep (I missed alot between the train ride and late night Plaka excursions with my new friends) and trying to remember names.  We visited the new Acropolis museum, which as luck would have it is filled mostly with plasters casts of the friezes the British stole from Greece in previous centuries.  There are still many excellent sculptures and artifacts held there, but most of the finest friezes from the Parthenon reside in the British Museum (denoted on the Acropolis Museum signage by a discrete 'BM').  It seems to me that if I wanted to study Greek sculpture of that time period, it might be more prudent to visit England than Greece. I was somewhat disappointed in the condition of the vast majority of the sculpture held in Athens.  Not because I didn't expect weathering on 3000 year old sculptures, but because so much of what I saw from the same time period in Thessaloniki was in still-polished condition. I'm not sure how a city that is almost unknown to non-Greek tourists managed to get finer specimens of sculpture than Athens did.  Perhaps they have an innate fear that the British will take them if they can find them.

The Parthenon is truly a wondrous sight to behold in person.  I have seen hundreds of photos of it through my life, but none of them do the building itself justice.  Although weathered, ruined, and partially obscured by scaffolding, it is still easy to see the magnificence and beauty of the building, still intact although its walls are not.   The Athena temple near the Parthenon is also outstanding.  It isn't hard to see how such buildings, in their prime, could have inspired the kinds of reactions I had to the monasteries both in Thessaloniki and the Meteora. 

The marble the building itself is hewn from is actually somewhat more translucent than normal marble, so the bright lighting it receives at night makes it even more impressive and ethereal.  It's too bad that visitors aren't allowed at night, seeing the building up close while lit in that manner would be truly breathtaking.