Dinner in Naplion

As darkness descended, the shadowed maze of narrow alleys transformed into a cheery twinkling labyrinth bursting with laughing strollers out for their evening volta. Near dinner time, we found a welcoming taverna, complete with lively Greek music.

 

Against the wall of the restaurant, two men strummed the bouzouki and guitar as we chose one of the outdoor tables and settled in for a great evening of food and Rembetica music.

Soon, tzaziki (the popular cucumber and garlic dip), dolmas (stuffed grape leaves), and succulent grilled octopus filled my plate. Gino, who couldn’t seem to leave the Italian food behind, had spaghetti with mellow Greek cheese and savory tomato salad.

As we finished the last morsel, our smiling waiter brought us a complimentary dessert: galactabouriko, a custard-like sweet drizzled with golden caramel sauce. Swoon! As we nibbled and listened to the music, we noticed an old woman sitting in the balcony of an adjacent apartment. Chair set facing the musicians, she was also enjoying the sounds of the evening.

Reluctantly, we stood up to leave, not anxious to leave the music behind. The waiter, also not wanting us to leave, called out, “Stay! Smoke! Smoke!” Smiling broadly, we sat back down without further prodding and he hustled over to us with tall, slender glasses of ouzo, on the house. Gino took one sip and exclaimed in a loud voice: “WOOH! Strong!” Even the musicians laughed. He calls it “boozo,” which I think is very clever.

So we sat back in our chairs, sipping ouzo, which became more palatable with every tentative taste, and listened to the musicians. It was thrilling to hear groups of Greeks join in on the songs as they passed by. We watched in amazement as one lone woman sitting near us, smoked cigarette after cigarette, sometimes joining in with the lyrics in her gravelly voice.

It seemed that cigarettes were the one constant throughout this trip, both in Sicily and Greece, although I do believe the Greeks may smoke even more than the Sicilians. Young, old, and in between, they smoke everywhere — in the airports, on the buses, in restaurants, walking down the street. Even the flashing hands of the musicians held glowing stubs while they played. We started seeking out tables off to the side of the central hazy cloud, but we could never escape it completely.

We drifted home at midnight.

September 15 – Do You Know the Way to Mycenae?

Our late night did not deter us from flinging back the covers early this morning, bright eyed and eager for another day of exploring the Peloponnese. Considered the “true Greece” and the “heart of Greece,” it may be less fairy-tale-like than the island of Santorini, but it is authentically Greek nonetheless, and no less charming.

Breakfast was waiting in the reception room and I was beside myself at finding a huge creamy cloud of yogurt and golden honey waiting for me to dig into. Scooping up a large bowl of it, I scooted into a table on the front terrace beneath the trees. Gino’s plate was filled with hard boiled eggs, fruit, cheese, and bread.

He left a few coins on the table as we left to thank the girls for their service. That evening, the coins were still there, just as we had left them — the girls thought we had forgotten them and made sure we would find them the next morning. The honesty of the Greek people still astounds me.

After eliciting a few simple directions from the receptionist, we took off for today’s destination: Mycenae. We lost the way only once and that was because we weren’t paying attention to the map. Gino exclaimed that it had taken him 20 minutes to realize he was holding the map upside down!

The 30-minute drive stretched to 45, but no matter. The traffic was light, the weather perfect, and we were in Greece. Our conversation would often turn to the subject of food as we dreamed of what delicacies we would taste at our next meal.

Mycenae

Approaching Mycenae, the signposts were very well-marked and our sea-blue Aggie chugged up the hill to the parking area.

“Well-built Mycenae, rich in gold,” wrote Homer. In his Iliad and Odyssey, Homer tells the harrowing stories of this ancient city: its murder and mayhem, its vengeful bloodletting, the curse of the House of Atreus.

Through the swirling mist of myth and reality, German archaeologist Heinrich Schliemann followed the clues put down by Homer and in 1874, set out to discover the city of Agamemnon and other heroes of the Trojan War. Tales of Helen, Menelaus, Clytemnestra, and Iphigeneia converged into single-minded determination; two years later, an ebullient Schliemann unearthed what he thought was Agamemnon’s tomb, filled with 33 pounds of gold.

But what he discovered was actually much older — remains of Neolithic settlements from 3000 B.C. and evidence of subsequent civilizations reaching into 1100 B.C. The history of this powerful and imposing citadel is lengthy and convoluted, but we learned that the height of Mycenaean power occurred from 1400 to 1100 B.C., during which time the Mycenae controlled all of the Peloponnese and beyond with their might and gold. Evidence of their culture has been found in Cyprus, Syria, and Sicily.

With reverence, Gino and I clambered up the rocky path, following the Cyclopean walls surrounding this awe-inspiring citadel. The ancients believed the wall must have been raised by the one-eyed giant, Cyclops.  Built from massive six ton boulders, who else but Cyclops himself could have set this wall’s mammoth stones in place?

We entered through the famous Lion Gate, pausing to contemplate the reality of finally being here.

Tunnel Vision

We forgot to heed the advice of our guidebook: to bring a flashlight along for exploring dark tunnels and cisterns.

An arch of boulders framing steep steps leading down into gaping darkness abruptly reminded me. This was one of the old dried up cisterns and I was determined to see its bottom. But only a few steps down, the bright Greek sun disappeared and we realized there was no possible way to continue without a light. Aside from being treacherously dangerous, the trip would be futile since absolutely nothing could be seen — not even your hand in front of your face.

Disappointed, we stepped back into the sunshine, finding another couple hovering at the entrance, straining to see what we were doing. I was sorely disappointed, since I really wanted to go down this rabbit hole. But ever-resourceful Gino realized we could use the light on the video camera. Flipping it on, the walls of the tunnel suddenly lit up, illuminating a precipitous stairway. YEY! We invited the couple to join our light and they readily accepted.

Gingerly we all went, carefully placing our steps on the slick, pebble-strewn steps. Keeping close together, we moved in unison, a tight group inside the little circle of light that pointed the way, shining down the curving vertical tunnel only a few feet at a time. I was in the front, leading the way, and sometimes I had to stop while Gino turned around to light the path for the two behind us. Still, at any given point, someone’s steps were in semi-darkness.

We counted 99 steps until we arrived at the very bottom. The cistern had been dry for years; no hint of dampness or mustiness remained of the underground fountain once here. Taking turns standing on the bottom looking up, we took pictures of each other to prove our moments of courageous insanity. Then we started back up. But only a few steps into our ascent, the unthinkable happened — the camera light snapped off. We were plunged into complete and utter blackness. Luckily, Gino was able to quickly revive it and we hastily returned to the top. Congratulating ourselves, we bid goodbye to our fellow adventurers and continue our explorations of Mycenae.

A tour of the museum completed our visit. Not far down the road leading out, we stopped for a last look at the greatest of the Mycenaean beehive tombs, the tholos known as the Treasury of Atreus. Constructed around 1300 B.C., this was the largest single-span building in existence prior to the Pantheon in Rome. The lintel alone weighs 120 tons. We felt dwarfed standing inside the massive dome.