Israel - Tel Aviv and Jaffa

After months of haunting the halls of world famous museums and cathedrals, trudging along historic battlefields and beaches, and sifting through centuries of history at World Heritage archeological sites, we spent our first day in the Holy Land at…the mall.  While it’s a major city and a financial and technological hub, Tel Aviv has a much less crowded feel than the last city we visited, and we enjoyed walking the streets of our neighborhood in the warm sunshine.  We enjoyed eggs and fresh fruit for breakfast and struck out strolling down Dizengoff Street just to see what we could find.  Our apartment is located on the corner of this major boulevard in the northern section of the city with markets and restaurants all around, and the Mediterranean Sea is a ten-minute walk to the west.

A two-kilometer stroll brought us to the area of the Dizengoff Center, Israel’s first mall and one of the coolest shopping plazas we’ve seen.  The mall spans both sides of the street, connected by skywalks and rises several stories above the boulevard full of stores from Nike to American Eagle, and everything else one could possibly imagine.  We weren’t in the market for anything in particular, but we enjoyed visiting the shops and immersing ourselves in culture from the current century for a change.  On the way back, we found a Super Cofix supermarket where everything costs five shekels, and we loaded up on groceries to hold us for a couple days.  Israel is expensive compared to the places we’ve visited recently, and we need to get back into the careful budget groove.  

Back at the apartment, we had a simple lunch of hummus and pita bread and still feeling a bit tired from travel ordeal the day before, we rested for a while listening to the world pass by our balcony.  By mid afternoon, we were ready to go again and walked to the beach passing by the David Ben-Gurion House on the way.  Israel’s first prime minister lived there for twenty years, and it still houses his library of twenty-thousand books.  The sidewalk was lined with small cafes and apartment blocks tucked back into groves of palm trees.  At the end of the boulevard, the residential area opened up to the vast sky above the expanse of the Mediterranean Sea, its water turned flinty blue by the low angle of the late afternoon sun.  We spread out a sheet on the sand and spent a couple of hours dozing in the sun and strolling in the calm surf.  Somehow in all of our travels, we manage to find ice cream, and today was no exception as we munched chocolate cones and watched the sun set on another day on the road.

Next day we were set to tackle the Tel-O-Fun rental bike station to secure transportation to the ancient port city of Jaffa located just six kilometers south of our apartment.  The city is called Joppa in the Bible, and it’s the city where Jonah bought passage and set sail for Tarshish in his attempt to flee from God.  It took a few clumsy attempts at the video kiosk, but we finally managed to free four bikes from their docking ports much to the amusement of the locals sitting on nearby park benches sipping coffee.  The lime green bikes were sturdy and easy to pedal, and we were soon on our way to Jaffa, traveling on a bike path that ran parallel to the beach.  Tel Aviv is very bike friendly, and many of the locals use the dedicated lanes and wide sidewalks to get around town.  The sky was cloudy as we pedaled toward Jaffa, but there was a steady breeze coming off the Mediterranean, and we had an easy trip to the town.  

A nice man helped us return our bikes to a station in Jaffa, and we were off and wandering the old streets of this historic city.  In addition to the story of Jonah, the Bible mentions Joppa as the entry port for the cedars of Lebanon as they were cut and sent for the construction of Solomon’s Temple.  The Apostle Peter was staying in Joppa at the house of Simon the Tanner where in addition to raising Tabitha from the dead, he had a curious vision before being summoned to Caesarea by the centurion Cornelius, and the events that followed changed the history of the world.  I wonder if thousands of years from now, people will come to North Carolina for the purpose of seeing the traditional site where the house of Mike the Painter still stands—I have my doubts.

The narrow streets of the Old Town rise up the hill from the sea, and they still have the mysterious look of the ancient Middle East, and we had a lot of fun exploring the twists and turns of the alleyways.  The hill at the highest point of the city offers a great view of the coast all the way back up to Tel Aviv, and we stayed there for a while reviewing history lessons before finding the alley that contains the house of Simon the Tanner.  The house is owned by an Armenian family that takes care of the lighthouse and small mosque on the property, and there is no entry past the gate, but I felt that familiar thrill of standing near the area where exciting events took place thousands of years ago.  

Simon the Tanner's house

Simon's house with minaret

Looking out over Jaffa

From Simon’s house, we descended into the streets of modern Jaffa where we ate a delicious lunch of falafel and shawarma prepared by “the Doctor,” a local sandwich wizard operating on the main corner in the clock tower square.  A popular, permanent flea market occupies a multi-block area just off the main square in town, and we spent a couple of hours there just wandering and trying not to get snared by the master salesmen populating the booths.  After a fun day in Jaffa, we took a taxi back to our neighborhood and finished the afternoon with a visit to the local juice bar and had an amazing concoction of freshly squeezed orange, pomegranate, and grapefruit which only cost sixteen shekels.   After only a day in a half in Israel, I already have a good understanding of the currency, and my shekel game is strong.

Modern Jaffa

Jaffa Flea Market

Leftover Turkey

While the rest of my family still slumbers, I’m sitting at a small table drinking instant coffee sweetened by sugar paid for with shekels in the neighborhood market last night.  After a long day of travel, we’re now settled into our cozy second-floor flat just off Dizengoff Street in Tel Aviv, and I’m looking out on the balcony as the sun rises on our first full day in Israel.  We left our apartment in Izmir at 7:00 AM yesterday, and after two taxi rides, one train ride, and two flights, we finally touched down on Tel Aviv. We submitted to no less than seven security scans and multiple passport checks.  The last security scan was just to enter gate 205 B for our flight to Israel, and it was the most thorough because we were frisked, our passports inspected, our electronics and shoes wiped down to check for explosive residue, and every item in our carry on bags completely investigated by one agent while the other looked us in the eye the whole time.  Joseph’s bright blue Gorilla Snot hair gel raised some suspicion, but we were finally granted entry into the seating area where another agent checked our passports again.  It was an exhausting day, and the security checks were inconvenient and tedious, but we had good flights knowing that any miscreants were surely extracted by all those procedures.

Still riding a wave of content from our amazing visit to Ephesus, we stayed close to home during our last two days in Turkey, only venturing out for meals and an occasional ice cream cone.  Joseph and Deveny were able to get a lot of school assignments completed, and Deena and I did a huge amount of research on our upcoming destinations.  I’ve written before that I prefer living an inconspicuous life—an impossibility in a country where everyone can immediately observe that you ain’t from around there.  During our week in Turkey, I spent a lot of time thinking about the role that fear plays in getting through life, and I wholeheartedly agree with FDR in his assertion that the only thing we have to fear is fear itself.  

Fear creates multiple scenarios in one’s mind that lead to unnecessary worry and crippling doubts when it comes to experiencing new things.  I desperately wanted to stand on the marble streets of Ephesus with my family, but due to the political situation in Turkey, greatly embellished media reports, and other well-meant warnings, we almost didn’t go.  If there had been tanks in the streets and constant detainments, we certainly would have avoided the country, but the majority of the problems were in southeastern Turkey, and we didn’t go there.  

View from our Turkish balcony

Just about everyone we encountered in Turkey was gracious and helpful, and the more time we spent there, the less afraid we became.  I’ve often stated that I would never willingly place my family in a dangerous situation, and while that’s certainly my intention, it’s not an entirely true statement.  Just walking out the front door and leaving the familiar confines of one’s house immediately places a family in a dangerous situation as the recent tragedies in Chattanooga and New Orleans would attest.  The world is full of unstable governments, drunk drivers, tornadoes, and poisonous snakes, and there will always be tension involved with making a fear-tempered decision about whether or not to experience something new.  The ability to deal with that tension greatly affects quality of life, and while the threshold is different for everyone, I’m glad we stretched our comfort zone a bit and were rewarded with a powerful family memory.

Now we’re in Israel, and hopefully our newfound confidence will spur us on to more incredible discoveries.  Deena and I were signed up for a trip to come here almost eighteen years ago when she was five months pregnant with Joseph, and we had to cancel when she went into preterm labor and was ordered to strict bedrest for the next four months.  That was a scary time in our lives, but we made it through together, and now I’m thankful to be here with her and our two children.  We have a whole month to discover the ancient wonders of this land in which the events over the centuries have changed the history of the world.  L’chaim y’all!

Turkey - Ephesus

Greek colonists established Ephesus three-thousand years ago, and until the third century AD, it was an important cultural and commercial city situated between Europe and Asia. The Apostle Paul spent a lot of time in the city and wrote one of his letters to the church there.  The Apostle John may have written his Gospel there, and tradition says Jesus' mother, Mary, lived there with John until her death.  Today the ruins of the ancient city are about three kilometers outside the town of Selcuk, which is eighty kilometers south of Izmir, our temporary home.  Most people visit Ephesus as part of a Mediterranean cruise or a long day trip from Istanbul. A short trip was our original intent before the troubles began in Turkey, and we had no choice but to change our plans.  When Deena and I were planning the trip, Ephesus was one of our major destination goals, and we knew it would be challenging and possibly expensive to reach, but we were determined to stroll down its marble streets with our children.  Once we were situated in Izmir, Deena researched local tours, but discovered even the least expensive service would cost over five hundred dollars, and as is the case with all these tours, we would have to sit through a sales presentation at a Persian rug enterprise at the conclusion of the trip.  Motivated by those vexing factors, we put together a simple itinerary and set out to visit Ephesus on our own terms.

We rose early on Thanksgiving day, which is like any other day as far as the Turkish are concerned, dressed quickly, and had a simple breakfast before heading out to find a taxi at 8:00.  Deena found out that one of the commuter trains runs from Izmir to Selcuk several times a day, and we wanted to catch the one leaving at 9:00.  We found a taxi right away, and after navigating nightmarish traffic, we arrived at the Basmane train station by 8:30, bought tickets, and spent the next fifteen minutes seeking assurance that we were standing on the correct platform.  Other than a mostly Latin alphabet, the Turkish language is another form of communication that bears absolutely no resemblance to English, and we’ve had to resort to furtive pointing and gesturing on numerous occasions here.  The uncrowded train departed the station on time, and we settled in for the ninety-minute ride to Selcuk.

The city of Izmir is built on a large, circling bay on the Aegean sea at the end of a deep indentation of land on the Turkish coast.  Green hills sweep up from the perimeter of the bay, and housing blocks cover the entire expanse with the minarets of mosques punctuating the skyline.  The distance across the bay is not far, but viewing landmarks on opposite sides is difficult due to the perpetual haze of pollution which prevents complete visibility through the smog.  As the train rumbled toward the outskirts of the city, I saw mostly crumbling buildings, their balconies strung with clothelines already drooping with the day’s washing even at that early hour.  There were small restaurants at every corner with patrons sitting outside drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes while cars jammed the streets all around.  Trash was everywhere and pedestrians strolled slowly chattering into their smartphones while stray cats and dog roamed through their midst.  Izmir is home to over four million people, and I’m guessing that life is challenging for a great number of them.  

As we reached the city limits, the look became more industrial with large warehouses and trash dumps dominating the scenery, and the train eventually crossed into the countryside where the landscape turned almost lunar in appearance.  While there were large cotton fields, tangerine groves, and rows of hazelnut trees, most of the terrain was flat and dusty with sparse, dried-out vegetation lining the train tracks.  Every twenty minutes or so, the train stopped at stations in small villages, and by the time we reached the station in Selcuk, it was mostly empty.  Selcuk is a large town with around thirty-thousand residents, but they were nowhere in sight as we stood on the platform in front of a blue domed mosque with the spire of its minaret peeking out above the treeline.  The station was under construction, and a worker kindly helped us get across the tracks to the main platform where the train dispatcher called a taxi for us.  We had anticipated a row of taxis along the border of the station, but it turns out that during the offseason, they don’t show up unless they’re summoned by phone.

Our driver took us to the upper gate of Ephesus and deposited us right in the middle of a pack of merchants desperate for tourists, and they fervently offered us maps of Ephesus, bottles of water, and sunscreen and assured us we would surely die within the confines of the ruins without their products.  We escaped those fellows and made it to the ticket booth where men were offering their services as guides for rates they claimed were less than the cost of the audioguide machines.  Again, the lack of tourists contributed to desperate sales pitches, but we managed to slip away with tickets in hand and audio guides around our necks, and as morning fog on the hills burned off into blue sky, we finally crossed over into the ancient wonder of Ephesus.

We’ve seen some impressive ruins so far on this trip, and they all testified to the achievements of days gone by, but Ephesus is spectacular, and we quickly understood why the ancient grounds are considered an archaeological marvel.  Standing open mouthed in the middle of the causeway looking at the remains of a once great city, I wondered what a traveler must have thought two thousand years ago walking through the main gate for the first time and beholding Ephesus in its gleaming white marble glory.  Our audio guides offered just the right amount of information as we spent several hours walking the streets, stopping often to learn the history of the Odeon, Hadrian’s temple, Domitian’s Temple, Fountain of Pollio, and the Hercules gate.  In ancient times, the main street was lined with city benefactors’ statues standing on pediments inscribed with their attributes, and while almost all of the statues are gone, the pediments still proclaim the worthiness of the city fathers.

We paid an extra admission fee to tour the fantastic terrace houses which were built into a the hillside above the main street and provided residence for several extremely wealthy families.  We climbed steel staircases under the canvas-roofed complex and saw walls still covered with colorful frescos and floors with long expanses of intricately detailed mosaics depicting Poseidon, Hercules, and many other mythological personages.  It was obvious even in antiquity that life for wealthy Romans was pretty good.  Leaving the terrace houses, we came to the end of the main road before it turned sharply to the right and stood in wonder before the Library of Celsus, which is the world famous symbol of ancient Ephesus.  We stayed there for a long time sitting on the steps of the library taking pictures and listening to the narrative on the audioguide.  By this time of day, the sun was at its highest point, and we had clear views all around.  The Agora was located beside the library, and we sat for a while there as well before walking a short distance to the well preserved theater which seated twenty-five thousand Ephesians back in the day.

It was in this theater that a heated demonstration was held against the Apostle Paul, which was started by a silversmith and other tradesmen in town.  They were angered that Paul’s preaching about Christ was harming their idol making business, and the crowd was worked into a frenzy shouting, “Great is Artemis of the Ephesians!”  Paul wanted to go into the theater and address the crowd, but his friends wouldn’t allow it, and we wondered if we were standing on the very spot Paul stood as heard the roar of the crowd.  We reviewed these events in the 19th chapter of the Book of Acts the night before, and it was thrilling to be in the actual place where everything happened.  Historical events make so much more sense when studied in the places where they unfolded, and we never get tired of learning in this manner, especially in areas so well preserved like Ephesus.

We walked the last of the marble pavers of the city toward the exit and brought our three-and-a-half hour tour of ancient Ephesus to a close.  After returning our faithful audio guides, we boarded another taxi back to Selcuk and began a search of the town square for a place to eat a late lunch.  We chose a small diner and were greeted by the proprietor's young daughter who promptly took our sandwich orders and fired up the grill.  Her father, a nice fellow with decent English skills, returned shortly, and we enjoyed talking with him while we munched our delicious grilled sandwiches.  “Is November” he said while sweeping his hand out toward the village.   “Nobody here, why tourist now?”  We told him about our trip, and he seemed very pleased that we had chosen his place to have our luncheon.  We paid our paltry bill, and spent the last hour in town sitting in the town square under the old Roman aqueduct, while a large group of elderly men dressed in dark clothing and caps sat nearby drinking tea and smoking.  We enjoyed the late afternoon sunshine and talked about our experiences in Ephesus while we sipped freshly squeezed orange and pomegranate juice and munched roasted peanuts purchased from a street vendor who kept calling me "Monsieur." 

Aqueduct with eagles nest on top

We boarded the 4:00 pm train back to Izmir, and unlike the sparsely populated morning ride, the cars were packed, and we had to stand for the majority of the trip, but eventually we sat on floor space that opened up near some large sacks of potatoes stacked by the doors.  The taxi ride back to our district was a little smoother and shorter than the morning ride, and we were soon walking the familiar streets of our neighborhood and stopped at a kebab shop for supper.  The owner waited on us like we were royalty, and we had some excellent roasted lamb with yogurt, fresh tomatoes, and crunchy shredded lettuce.  We finished our meal with hot Turkish tea, and the owner bid us a hearty “alvederzane” as we left.  After spending a full Thanksgiving day in an amazing place, we stretched out in the apartment and tallied up our expenses.  Including transportation, admission fees, and audio guides, we spent $130 for our visit to the magnificent ruins of ancient Ephesus, and Deena and I looked at each other and smiled.

Turkey - Izmir

As I came to a couple of mornings ago, it sounded like the fate of the world was hanging on the outcome of an epic swordfight happening below our window.  Turns out it was just a construction crew noisily installing rebar in preparation for the foundation of a new structure that will one day replace the pile of rubble next to our building.  The day before, we had left Areopoli, Greece at 6:30 in the morning and had driven four hours to Athens to catch a flight to Istanbul, Turkey.  An hour into the drive, the sun rose and turned the sheer, rock faces of the mountain range before us pink and orange, and the sight of the Grecian landscape in this perspective calmed us somewhat as we anticipated a full and difficult travel day.  

Our original plan for visiting Turkey was to spend a week in Istanbul and fly to Izmir for the purpose of touring Ephesus, but travel warnings issued in October by the U.S. State Department changed all that.  As United States consular officials pulled their families out of Istanbul, other Americans were warned to be on their guard, and we had to make some decisions.  The warnings were specific to Istanbul where there’s been a lot of political unrest lately, but areas along the coast seemed to be stable enough, and we decided to continue on to Turkey but to change the itinerary.  We flew from Athens to Istanbul, then took another flight to Izmir where we’ll stay for five days and hopefully spend Thanksgiving touring ancient Ephesus, a city built three thousand years ago, rich with history, and containing some of the most complete and impressive ruins in the world.

We landed in Izmir after dark, eight hours ahead of our family and friends back home, and walked out of the airport with a long taxi ride ahead of us and managed to get a car with a driver who had no clue where our destination was located.  He was persistent though, and with the GPS on Deveny’s phone and a lot of pointing and shouting from the backseat, we pulled up in front of our building about an hour after leaving the airport.  Our hostess, Ceyda, buzzed us in, and we ascended three flights of stairs to the largest apartment we’ve had so far on the trip which included a living room, dining room, parlor, kitchen, two bedrooms, and a big bathroom with a washing machine.  Ceyda gave us a quick tour then left us to get settled after a long day.  We discovered that she provided a five liter jug of fresh water and big bowl of fruit in the kitchen, and we enjoyed some juicy tangerines at the kitchen table while we reviewed the house rules spelled out on a laminated placard.  One of the rules stated that wearing shoes is not permitted in the flat, but there are slippers provided for guests, and I’ve already grown fond of these:

Izmir is located on the coast of the Aegean Sea and is the third most populated city in Turkey.  From ancient times until the establishment of the Turkish Republic in the early twentieth century, Izmir was known as Smyrna, ruled over the centuries by the Lydians, Persians, Macedonians, Romans, and Ottomans with all kinds of war and upheaval in the process.  Other than visiting Ephesus, the goal during our time in Izmir is to venture out a little every day and try to get a feel for the local culture.  Our apartment is located one hundred meters from the ferry port, so we’ll be able to travel easily to see the sights in the main districts of the city.

During our first full day in Izmir, we slept late until the sound of the construction crew forced us from sleep, got a load of laundry washed and hung up to dry, and spent mid afternoon walking the streets of our neighborhood.  We ate lunch at a KFC down by the ferry, and while it wasn’t quite like the US version, it was still delicious and helped us get out of our travel induced funk.  We wandered around a huge pedestrian bazaar packed with shoppers and found our way into a specialty store that sold many forms of candy, dried fruits, and Turkish delight, which seems to come in many forms primarily consisting of candy rolled in marshmallow.  The manager spoke English fairly well and asked if I would like a complimentary cup of Turkish coffee while my family selected their treats.  Of course I said yes, and after I consumed a small cup of the strongest coffee in the galaxy, for the next couple of hours I saw colors as I had never beheld them, heard conversations from far away, and tried my best not to behave like a squirrel running from tree to tree.

We needed supplies for the rest of the day, so we found a small grocery store in the bazaar and managed to locate most of the things we needed except something for dinner.  At the meat and cheese counter, we saw bins full of tortellini-looking things, and we asked the butcher about their filling.  He spoke no English, but he made horns on his head with his fingers which could have meant goat, sheep, or dragon, but as we made horns on our heads and said “moo”, his eyes lit up, and he started mooing as well.  The product is called manti, and we loaded up on enough for dinner along with a container of garlic infused yogurt and a bag of fresh olives, and our mooing butcher friend gave us all samples of beef strips that had the consistency of playdough and tasted like they had been cured with tar.  

We found a video for the authentic preparation of Turkish manti, and we cooked a hearty supper from our provisions and topped the dish with melted butter and paprika.  We felt good about our excursion today even though we stood out in the crowds as obvious non-natives since most everyone here is brown and we are very white.  Were we hyper sensitive due to the state of the world and our western appearance?  Yes.  Will we continue to feel apprehensive during our time in Turkey?  Yes.  Will we do our best to experience a new culture and its history despite our misgivings?  Yes.  Thankfully, our apartment is a wonderful place of refuge, and we’ve already grown accustomed to the well worn but cozy feel of the place.  The walls in each room are painted in different shades of light pastel colors, and all the trim and doors are painted a rich glossy cream.  The tiled floors have Moorish patterns, and there are colorful rugs placed in the center of the main rooms.  It gets a little cool in the bedrooms at night, but there’s an armoire full of thick blankets which we’ve stacked on the beds.  The washing machine looks fairly new, and it’s rigged to drain right into the bathtub—I don’t think builders could get away with that in the States.  Like everywhere else we’ve been on this trip, there’s no clothes dryer due to lack of venting and the strain on the fragile electrical systems, but we’ve become accustomed to hanging our things up to dry like everyone else.

Our homemade Turkish meal

On our second day in Izmir, we got moving a little earlier, and after the kids completed some school assignments, we decided to tackle the ferry and visit another district across the bay.  The guy at the ticket window understood us fairly well, and in a short time, we had our tickets in hand for less than a dollar each.  The big ferry boat cut through the choppy water of the bay easily, and we enjoyed views of the entire harbor area during the smooth twenty-minute ride.  We disembarked in the Konak district and walked straight to the clock tower which is a famous landmark in Izmir.  From there we walked about a mile through tightly packed market streets that looked like an Indiana Jones movie set.  Once again we were the center of attention and just about every head turned in our direction as we passed by.  Finally, we reached our main destination: the huge Roman Agora which is now an amazing open air museum.  After a couple of rowdy school groups left, we had the whole complex to ourselves, and we had so much fun touring this incredible place that exhibits ruins stretching back 2500 years.  We learned a lot about ancient Smyrna and its importance to the empire and how it was subject to major earthquakes including a big one in 178 AD which sent the city into major decline.

Clock Tower

We bought a few spinach-and-cheese filled pastries for snacks before making our way back to the ferry, we and managed to catch a boat just before it left the dock.  After a little rest at the apartment, we ventured out one more time to find something for supper and bought some delicious food from vendors and spent only seven dollars in the process, including dessert.  Our confidence is building every time we go out, and we’re hoping to visit a couple of other districts before leaving in a few days.  Tomorrow is Thanksgiving back home, and we’ll be touring Ephesus while America takes a break to give thanks.  Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday - I love the food, the long weekend, the football, and time spent with loved ones.  Deena, Joseph, Deveny, and I have many blessings to count while on this trip together, but we’re also thankful for our beloved family and friends keeping up with us and praying for us while we’re away.  So, from all of us, we wish you the happiest of Thanksgivings…from Turkey.

Greece - Areopoli

We had almost finished loading the car, and Deena and the kids had gone back inside to check things one last time when Theofilos appeared from the back of the house and waved good morning to me.  He was wearing work clothes, and he had paint on his hands, so naturally I was curious about what he was painting on such a fine Grecian morning.  We ended up talking for the better part of an hour, and I got a glimpse into the life of a husband and dad who was not much different from me except for the whole living in a Mediterranean-paradise thing.  Theofilos moved to the United States when he was sixteen and lived and worked with family members in Pittsburgh until he was twenty-two and then made the decision to return to Greece.  He learned English easily and enjoyed living in America very much, but when he thought about getting married and raising a family, he realized that he wanted his children to grow up in his native land.  After spending the first half of their marriage just north of Athens, Theofilos and his wife made some decisions that changed the direction of their young family.  They were both working stressful jobs that required long hours, and finding childcare for their four children was a constant struggle.  Their lifestyle was taking a toll on their marriage, and they realized that scary, drastic change was needed in order to set things right.  I was spellbound listening to him speak, and I thought about the changes Deena and I faced thirteen years ago after my second heart episode.  We had a strong marriage, and we were surrounded by family and friends, but the pressure of the life we were living was making me sick, and I wanted to see my children grow up.  During an anniversary dinner that I’ll never forget, Deena and I committed to serious changes which we knew would result in making less money, but those decisions have yielded a life making every day count for the Lord and each other, and we’ve had years full of rich time together with no regrets.  

Theofilos and his wife sold everything in Athens, packed up their young family, and moved south to the upper Peloponnese of Greece and bought some land on the rocky hillsides of Nafplio, where there was nothing but olive and orange trees and an amazing view that kept the Mycenaeans hanging around for a millennium or two.  They took out a loan and began building two houses on the land while living with his brother, and with the help of family and the construction skills learned in the United States, Theofilos soon had a new home and a new life for his family.  His wife works a part time clerical job at the courthouse in town, and Theofilos manages his apartments while tending to his olive grove, and he enjoyes experimenting with different methods of olive oil production when he’s not painting and maintaining his properties.  Both he and his wife stop working mid-afternoon, and the rest of the day is spent focusing on their children and preparing supper which they’ve committed to enjoy together every day.  Theofilos took me around and showed me some of the work he had been doing lately on one of the apartments and asked my advice about color schemes and the type of paint he would need for his next project.  As we neared the end of our time together, he looked off toward the mountains and told me that he could have made a lot more money in Athens and maybe had more opportunities for his children.  Then he looked me in the eye and said, “But I don’t care about the money anymore.  My wife and I and are happy and healthy.  We made a life for ourselves in a beautiful place, and we had time for our children.”  Amen, brother.

While it was sad to leave another friend, I was freshly inspired as I loaded up the family in the Ibeza bound for the southern Peloponnese.  Our first destination was Sparta two hours away, but the purpose of the visit was mainly lunch and not history.  Twenty five hundred years ago, while the Athenians and Corinthians were busy philosophizing and building gleaming white temples, the Spartans prepared to defeat everyone in war, and they lived a life that was…well, Spartan.  One common thread we’ve seen in civilizations on this trip is that someone always wants to rule the world and ruin it for everyone else.  Some smart guy said that those who cannot remember the past are doomed to repeat it.  That’s a statement which sounds deep, and people enjoy its reiteration at parties, but I don’t think it’s true—the world knows a lot about history, but our doom seems to be the same in every generation.  

We drove on a major highway most of the way to Sparta, and other than a tanker truck or two, it was empty.  Every fifty kilometers or so, there was an efficient pull-off bathroom which Greek civil engineers designed in a moment of genius, and these relief stations are kept clean and smelling like baby powder.  While the highway was still situated mostly in the long valleys, the mountains got higher and closer with more prominent profiles, and groves of olive trees became more prevalent.  We rolled into Sparta where we discovered that the warrior mentality still exists, but instead of spears and shields, the natives now wield the automobile, and they’re determined to conquer every obstacle in their paths.  We quickly submitted to the superiority of the battle-minded Spartans and parked in front of the Museum of the Olive and Greek Olive Oil.   I ignored the eye-rolling and gnashing of teeth from the backseat.  An excellent lunch from a nearby cafe cured most of the attitude issues, and we enjoyed an hourlong tour of the museum and learned everything we needed to know about the incredible olive and its impact on this part of the world through which we now navigated.  Besides, it only cost three euro, and we needed a break from the road.

Museum of the Olive

The next hour of driving took us deeper into the mountains and the bends in the road became more frequent as we ascended the slopes.  The land on either side of the road was choked with olive groves and the thick gnarly trunks of the trees testified to the length of their years.  The small town of Areopoli was our destination, and the sun was rapidly setting as we hit the city limits.  We still had about thirty minutes of driving to do before reaching our isolated accommodations for the next few days, and we quickly found a grocery store and bought supplies before tackling the hills.  We had reservations in a stone house named Philothea built on the side of a mountain just beyond the hillside village of Drosopigi.  The owner emailed us specific directions from the main highway, but as the twisting road turned into a rocky path we began to doubt his accuracy, especially when we had to stop and let a large herd of goats pass in front of the car.  We finally pulled into the small, stone-paved square in the village of Drosopigi and rounded a huge olive tree planted near the community fountain.  We were greeted by several barking dogs as we descended the path from town into the parking area of our stone house, and we lugged our bags up several flights of broken stone steps and crossed the threshold of an amazing house.  The twilight views from all the windows stretched across the deep mountain range to the curving seashore and the ocean beyond.  The tension from a day of long travel melted away as we settled into the spacious house with stone walls, high ceilings, and heated tile floors.  We cooked a quick pot of spaghetti, and we were thankful that we were happy, healthy, and together around the supper table.

Our new backyard

We’ve toured a few famous caves in our travels over the years, and while they’re interesting, I’ve formed the opinion that if you’ve seen one cave, you’ve seen ‘em all.  We took a tour of a cave system on the shore of the Messiniakos Gulf that changed my mind.  The Caves of Diros were discovered and inhabited by Paleolithic and Neolithic tribes as evidenced by the artifacts found inside, and it's believed that the surrounding area was one of the first European settlements.  People living around the caves up to four thousand years ago believed that the vast underground expanse was the passage to the Underworld, and they buried their dead nearby to facilitate an easier trip.  The admission fee was steep, but since we’ve paid next to nothing for our archeological tours so far, we handed over the euros knowing the numbers would average out.  There were only a few other visitors there, and within five minutes we were assigned to a boat with a young couple, donned our lifejackets, and set out for a forty-five minute tour of the caves.  

The guides navigate the small boats wth a thick oar that’s used to generate momentum by pushing off the ancient formations, an act that would send American cave superintendents into a tizzy.  Also, the guides only speak Greek, so the nice young Greek couple in the front of our boat received a narrative delivered in a rich baritone, while we smiled and stared wide-eyed at the structures created by unknown years of slow dripping mineral deposits.  There were huge stalactites narrowing to a point just above stalagmites on the cave floor that looked like piles of melting ice cream.  Huge waves of pillowy hardened minerals lined the cave walls in colors of cream, deep gold, emerald, and russet, and there were vast ceilings of tiny crystal stalactites with points like hypodermic needles.  The reflections of the formations in the deep clear water created a scene of eerie wonder, and the minutes flew by as we were treated to new settings around every turn.  The last ten minutes of the tour were self guided as our guide helped us disembark and directed us to the footpath leading to the cave exit on the far side of the rocky cliffs.  We emerged to bright sunshine and the sight of the aquamarine lagoon in front of the visitor center still in awe of the ancient cave.  So yeah, if you’ve seen one cave, you’ve seen ‘em all, except that one, wow.  Since there’s no wifi at our stone house in the hills, we spent the rest of the afternoon in Areopoli at the internet cafe so the kids could do some schoolwork.  It’s hard to believe our time in Greece is almost over, but we’re making the most of what’s left. 

Outside the caves

Caves of Diros

Next day, we were up early, and after a quick breakfast, we hit the road for the ancient seaside town of Monemvasia situated on a small rocky island joined to the mainland by a narrow strip of land with a causeway.  It’s similar to Mont St. Michel in France, but smaller in scale, and the town is hidden on the backside of the island.  Monemvasia was a Byzantine settlement back in the seventh century, and though it’s been ruled by many empires over the centuries including the Venetians, it still retains its unique look and medieval atmosphere.  We drove about two hours along the coast on undulating, twisting roads, and we were treated to some spectacular scenery in the countryside and in the quaint little villages along the way.  The only means of access to the island is to walk through a stone tunnel, so we parked our car on the causeway and strolled about one kilometer to the passage and stepped back in time.  The tunnel opens to narrow cobblestone streets with a small square near the center of the lower town, and the streets slope higher onto the side of the mountain leading to the upper town and old battlements at the top.  Most of the houses are built into the side of the mountain, and they all have rough stone facades with red barrel tile roofs.  

The residences are linked by a labyrinth of stone alleyways, and we spent some time wandering and getting lost in the village until hunger forced us back down to the main street where we met a nice cafe owner who spoke English very well.  She gave us historical maps of the town and told us about her relatives in the United States and her upcoming trip to visit them.  We sat outside the upper terrace of the cafe and enjoyed one last Greek feast of local sausage, eggplant, salad, crusty bread, and rich, freshly pressed olive oil.  We ate slowly and enjoyed the sunshine and soft breeze coming off the ocean, and we talked about all the things we experienced during our thirteen days in Greece.  We felt that this country was one of our favorites so far.  The history here is layered and captivating and the setting for all the  drama played out over the centuries is unmatched with mountain vistas, rolling hills full of olive and orange trees, and small villages where life hasn’t changed much for a long time.  As evidenced by the great civilizations that developed in Greece, it’s a land full of resources, great beauty, and resilient people.  Even in ruins, some of those ancient societies are still powerful in the legacy they left the world, and the feeling we had standing in their midst will be with us always.

Greece - Nafplio

Corinth

There were only about forty feet separating me from my family, but I watched them nervously and tried to mentally force the people in line ahead of me to move faster.  We were thirty minutes away from leaving Santorini, and Deena had already gone through airport security with the kids while I stayed out front waiting on the Hertz guy to show up for work so I could return our rental car.  Due to his late arrival, I was now sweating out the security process while I could see my family gathering our luggage for the boarding line.  Santorini airport security consisted of a portly gentleman in a blue uniform with a pistol strapped to his hip, and he took his job seriously.  By the time I got through the metal detector, my hands were shaking, but I was thankful to be reunited with my crew ready to fly back to Athens after three relaxing days on Santorini.  After an easy flight and quick rental car process, we left the Athens airport bound for Nafplio in our dark gray Ibiza on a clear day with a cloudless blue sky surrounding the mountains.

For the next eight days, we’re exploring the Peloponnese, the southernmost section of mainland Greece which is connected at the Isthmus of Corinth.  This legendary peninsula is marked by mountainous topography, and it was home to the original Olympic Games, the Mycenaean civilization, and many of the most powerful city-states in ancient Greece including Corinth and Sparta.  The Peloponnese is rich in beauty and history, and travel pundits rank the area highly on the best of Europe lists.  The highways were well maintained and almost empty as we made our way south, and since we couldn’t check into our apartment in Nafplio until 2:00, we planned to stop at ancient Corinth for a visit to the ruins.  Thanks to Google Maps and good signage, we pulled into a free parking lot in the modern town of Corinth and made the short walk to the archaeological site of the ancient city, where we completely immersed ourselves in many years of complicated history while touring this incredible place.

Temple of Apollo

Corinth

Fountain

Ancient Corinth was always a place of wealth due to its fortuitous location which made it a center for trade and a blending of cultures.  As far back as 800 BC, the Greeks perfected the workings of this city leading up until the classical period when it reached the height of its beauty and infrastructure.  Those pesky Romans came along and burned the place down in 146 BC then rebuilt it in under the auspices of none other than Julius Caesar in 44 BC.  By the time the Apostle Paul came to Corinth in 51 AD, the city was once again a major trade center with unparalleled architecture and a lot of naughty things happening in the temples.  On the highest point in the complex of ruins, the remains of the Temple of Apollo visually testify to the former beauty and power on display in the ancient city.  Surviving the Roman destruction, this temple was built in 500 BC, and it’s still impressive twenty-five hundred years later.  The site was uncrowded, and we practically had it to ourselves as we wandered around for a couple of hours reading about the forms of architecture used in construction of the buildings and the planning and skill needed to build the main roads, drainage systems, and fountain complexes.  One of the highlights of our visit to Corinth was standing in the place of judgment where Paul was brought to give an account to the proconsul of the region, Gallio. He dismissed Paul’s accusers without the apostle ever having to open his mouth to give defense.  We left ancient Corinth walking down the avenue of marble pavers that used to stretch three miles from port to port two-thousand years ago, and they’re still firm underfoot today.

Paul stood here to be judged

Marble Corinthian Road

Ancient ruins generate modern hunger, so we chose an outdoor cafe near the complex in which to have our luncheon, and we enjoyed chunks of herb encrusted roast pork served with potatoes and tzatziki sauce and a generous bowl of Greek salad with tomatoes, onions, olives, and crunchy cabbage lining the bottom of the bowl.  The salad was dripping with rich olive oil, and we used our crusty bread to soak up the excess.  As we pushed back from empty plates, the proprietor's son brought a bowl of freshly picked oranges to our table, and the tennis-ball-sized fruit still had stems and slender leaves still attached.  The oranges peeled easily, and we devoured every last section of the sweet ripe fruit.  

We still had about an hour’s travel to Nafplio, and drove mostly through long valleys lined with orange and olive trees and fringed with low, sharply contoured mountains.  Our house was located a short distance from town at the point where the road began to climb the mountain of the citadel.  As we pulled into the driveway, our host, Theofilos, came out to meet us with a friendly wave and a lopsided grin.  Theo owns two buildings on the property, each one consisting of four apartments with views of the surrounding mountains.  His relatives live in most of the apartments, but he keeps two of them open to rent to travelers.  Our unit is large with commanding views of the countryside and gnarly, centuries-old olive trees just outside our windows.  Theo sat with us for a long time marking places of interest on a map and giving us advice to make our four-day stay easier.  He was a handsome fellow with thick black hair flecked with silver and bright green eyes covered by a dark brow.  His English was almost flawless, and he made us feel perfectly at home.  Joseph had already discovered the basketball court out back hidden in the olive grove, and he was soon joined by Theo’s equally handsome son, Vasili—I kept my beautiful daughter under close watch to prevent a local Greek god from sweeping her off her feet.  After resting a bit, Deena and I drove around until we found a grocery store and bought some supplies for supper which we brought home assembled into our own version of Greek salad.  

Coffee in the backyard

Next day, we rose early, and after a breakfast of omelets and grilled bread, we set out for the archaeological site of ancient Epidaurus which was a healing center constructed in 600 BC.  A cold front pushed through during the night leaving a gusty breeze and crisp air behind.  The sun was bright, but the deep blue sky from the day before was diluted to a watery hue as it appeared through wispy clouds.  We had only about a forty-five minute drive, and the main highways stayed on the valley floor, but we ascended into the hills several times on smaller connecting roads which narrowly cut through the center of small villages.  The larger mountains were desolate with light sienna-colored rock showing through gaps in the covering of dense, dark green scrub.  The low hillsides and valley floor had a hazy cast produced by the thin sunlight dissolving into the silver green foliage of the olive groves.

Other than a couple of cars and one tour coach, the parking lot at Epidaurus was empty, and we parked the Ibiza, paid a paltry eight euro-admission, and received the better end of the bargain as we set out on an amazing three-hour lesson in ancient history starting at the small museum.  The exhibits in the low narrow building were well curated, and we saw many statues and reliefs that told the story of this place of healing. From an up close perspective, a beautifully preserved Corinthian column capital revealed the skill necessary to complete such a fine work of art and architecture.  

Corinthian capital

Centers of healing in ancient Greece were called asclepions in honor of Apollo’s son, Asclepius the Healer, and the one located at Epidaurus was built in the sixth century BC and became famous and prosperous over the centuries.  The archeological prize in the complex of ruins here is the ancient theater of Epidaurus built in the fourth century BC and still retains its beautiful structure and near perfect acoustics.  The theater seats 14,000 people and is situated to look out over the soaring mountain range in the distance.  Music and theater were important elements of healing to the ancient Greeks, and they spared no expense in making this theater the finest in the land at that time.

We’ve had a lot of practice at home climbing to the cheap seats in the stratosphere of several arenas, and we used that experience to ascend the marble steps of the ancient theater for pictures of the view and to test the acoustics.  The once gleaming white marble steps, risers, and benches are now splotched with greenish-grey lichen, but this condition does nothing to detract from the beauty and excellent preservation of the arena.  The high rear perimeter is bordered with live oaks and olive trees, and there are mounds of acorns and olives to navigate at the top, but it’s a small nuisance compared to the view of the mountains behind the performance area.  I dropped a coin on the stone circle at center stage, and my crew heard it perfectly on the top row.  Then, to the sheer horror and embarrassment of my children, I turned on my radio voice and regaled the few other tourists in the theater with some broadcast lingo, Shakespeare quotes, the Scout Oath, and the Scout Law—it sounded like I was speaking into a high-powered microphone, and it was awesome.  

That's me down there center stage

"On my honor, I will do my best..."

We spent the final hour at the asclepion touring the vast field of ruins that contained a dormitory, bath complex, temples, and stadium complete with stone bleachers and starting blocks.  There was a small snack bar beside the parking lot, and we bought a light lunch of ham and cheese pies and hot dogs and ate at a stand-up table surrounded by a pack of cats and dogs hoping for a dropped morsel.  We had pity on the smallest animals forced to the outside of the circle by the larger ones, and made sure they got a bite to eat.  We drove back to Nafplio talking about the famous ruins we had just witnessed and wondered how people that lived so long ago were able to harness the technical skill to produce such a fine theater that is still being used for theatrical performances in the summer months.  I’m sure those productions pale in comparison to my oratory, and I was pleased to have stood on such a vaunted stage today.

Ancient loveseat

The ancient civilization of Mycenae was the subject of our next day on the Peloponnese, and thankfully the predicted weather forecast of cold temperatures and rain turned out to be incorrect as we struck out under sunny skies.  The citadel of ancient Mycenae was only about a thirty-minute drive from our apartment, and once we got outside Nafplio, the traffic was very light on the highways.  There are many questions debated among the smart guys about Mycenae, a civilization described by Homer in the epic poems, the Iliad and the Odyssey, and many doubt that Homer existed at all.  Was he a historian or writer of fiction?  Was he an individual or a team of writers that collected and preserved folk legends?  Did he live in 500 BC or 1000 BC?  Was there really a Mycenaean king named Agamemnon, and was there a Trojan War?  Did Homer get beat up on the playground a lot because his parents named him Homer?  We’ll never have the answers to most of these questions, but there is no doubt that there was a powerful civilization anchored in the northern area of the Peloponnese which had branches of control extending into the Mediterranean region, and the remains of the citadel attest to its former glory.  We pulled into another empty parking lot just outside the ruins and paid another eight euro admission that entitled us entry into the museum, citadel, and the Treasury of Atreus.

We tackled the museum first, and although it was small, the exhibits here were well presented and offered many examples of Mycenaean art on pottery, weaponry, and small sections of frescos that survived the centuries.  A substantial quantity of gold artifacts and coins were found in shaft graves on the site, and many fine pieces were on display with wide variances of dates ascribed to them, but they were all at least three-thousand years old.  The famous Mask of Agamemnon that we saw in the museum in Athens was found on this site, and it was a treat to close that circle of archeology.  

From the museum, we climbed the steep path up to the citadel of the settlement, and stood for a long time in front of the mighty Lion Gate constructed of four huge stones weighing at least six tons each and 3,500 years old.  This amazing and imposing entrance surely filled visitors centuries ago with awe, and it had the same effect on us even with the settlement in ruins.  The citadel sits on a hilltop surrounded by mountains with a view to the sea over fifteen kilometers away.  We climbed to the highest point of the complex and looked out over the ancient realm of a once muscular empire that endured long enough to produce exquisite art and architecture and skills in language and writing.  As I stood in the bright sun with a stiff breeze whistling through the broken and weathered walls of the former citadel, I had a feeling similar to the one I experienced at Stonehenge.  I looked all around at the panorama full of high sage green mountains with the rocky hills sweeping up in between and wondered if the Lion Gate were gone and the walls removed, would I still sense that something significant happened here?  As powerful and influential as the Mycenaean civilization was, the mystery surrounding its rapid demise is deep, and we’ll never have all the answers, but viewing the evidence and pondering the former grandeur was satisfying enough for us on this day.

The Lion Gate of Mycenae

The summit of the citadel

Mycenae

On the way out of the complex, we stopped at the Treasury of Atreus, which is a Mycenaean tomb built around 1300 BC.  The tomb was carved into the hillside and contains a corbel arch with a lintel stone weighing a whopping 120 tons, and the lintel stone experts say it's the largest of its kind in the world.  The interior room is a huge dome which for over a thousand years had the distinction of being the biggest one in the world until the Pantheon was built in Rome.  Until a tour coach pulled in thirty minutes later, we had the entire place to ourselves, and after contemplating the amazing masonry work on the passage walls, we sat inside the tomb and stared at the sloping walls of the dome which were smooth and blackened with age.  Back outside, Joseph and I couldn’t resist the temptation to scamper up the steep slope to the summit of the tomb while Deena and Deveny stayed below to photograph our efforts.

Treasury of Atreus

Inside the tomb, the lintel stone is above me

Joseph and me on top of the treasury

A copy paper menu for the Elektra restaurant had been placed under our windshield wipers in the parking lot, and the prices were reasonable, so we stopped there on the way down and dined al fresco with a view of the mountains from the center of the little village.  We were the only ones in the restaurant during our entire meal of roast chicken and pastitsio, and the proprietor made a big fuss over us while his wife prepared the delicious food.  Over a desert plate of rich yogurt and honey, we discussed the things we learned at Mycenae, still amazed and thankful for the opportunity to be here together.  We drove back to our apartment on the hillside and picked a couple of oranges from the tree out front which we enjoyed as a snack before dinner.

We have one more day in Nafplio, which we’re hoping to spend catching up on school, laundry, and rest.  The town is considered one of the most beautiful on the Peloponnese, and we plan to spend a little time this afternoon exploring the old castle nearby and having lunch in the village center.  We’re moving on to the seaside town of Gythio in the southern Peloponnese tomorrow, and thankfully we don’t have to wake up at 4:00 in the morning to leave Nafplio.  We have seen incredible evidence of the rise and fall of empires here and understand why regional pride runs so deep in this beautiful part of Greece.