A Plethora of Stray Cats

I’ve been a thinking for a while about how to write a conclusion to the experiences we have had over the past few weeks. The problem is, I don’t think that my writing skills can truly articulate and summarize this trip. Greece cannot be quantified. Greece, like many other popular destinations, is romanticized. But this doesn’t mean that it fails to live up to the expectations. It passes them with flying colors. But coming into this trip it was hard to know exactly what to expect because of the romanticization surrounding Greece.

Like I said, the islands are beautiful.

Arriving back in Athens after spending a week and a half on the islands was a strange feeling. Maybe it was a feeling of realization that our time here is nearly at an end, but it also felt like coming back home. I loved the islands, they were beautiful and full of rich history. But I think that Athens will always hold a special place in my heart. It was nice to come back to something that is both familiar and unfamiliar. We only lived here for 2 weeks, but that was enough time to learn the layout of a small portion of the metropolis and form connetions with some of the people here. It was a nice feeling to be greeted with an exuberant “welcome home” when we stopped by to visit some of our Athens friends the night we got back.

This morning several of us woke up before the rest of Athens and returned to the spot that I talked about in my first blog post, Areopagus. The six of us sat in silence and watched the sky turn pink behind the Acropolis and listened to the city come to life. The only sounds were those of the church bells and pigeons (okay, and some random guy that was yelling in the distance). I’ve always liked the liminality of sunrises, and though the sky didn’t explode with color, it was peaceful and perhaps slightly magical.

I didn’t take any photos at sunrise, but we got to experience what Homer described as the “wine-dark” sea.

We may never return to these exact places with the same people and perspectives, but these times are something that I will take with me. I am returning to PLU with a new perception. I know that it differs from the perceptions that my classmates have developed because we all come from very different backgrounds and had different experiences throughout this trip. Your perception is what you make it. But I know that this trip would not have been the same without the things that each person brought to it. 

In hindsight, the events of this trip feel somewhat like the plot of a book; complete with an exposition, rising action, climax, falling action, and a bittersweet resolution. Life very often works like that, though nearly always ends up being better and stranger than fiction. This trip surpassed every expectation set by books, movies, and other people. I will always remember it as being filled with sunsets, ancient ruins, good people, and a plethora of stray cats.

One of the many stray cats we encountered in the islands.

The Power of Two

The combination of speech and action is a very strong thing. People always talk about how words have power, and I agree with this, but I think that accompanying the words with action gives them more powerful and all the more meaningful. This is how it was in the Bronze Age as well. For example, if you lived during the Bronze Age and wanted to curse someone you couldn’t just use words to do so. In order to successfully put a curse on someone you would have to perform a combination of specific spoken words and physical actions to go along with them. Only then would your curse be successful (helpful information, I know).

This type of thing can very much be applied to modern life. Most of us may no longer know the proper way to apply a curse to someone, but following your words with actions is still extremely effective in most situations. This includes holding yourself accountable and following through.

Even though the Bronze Age was, well, ages ago, I’ve found that speaking things into existence, even after all these years, is an effective way to get things to happen. Making a verbal oath to yourself and/or others makes things all the more legitimate. This can apply to running into the Aegean Sea in the middle of the night after saying you would do it or it may just mean that you hold yourself to your moral principles after verbally declaring what they are.

I don’t have a photo of any of us running into the Aegean Sea at midnight, but Turkey looks nice at sunset.

Here in Greece we are being exposed to many new things, not all of them familiar or in our comfort zones. Not everything is easy to do (that just applies to life in general). But words have power behind them. Making verbal promises to yourself and others holds power as well, but I would also argue that without following action, they are empty.

As a class we have learned about ancient rituals and how the powerful combination of logos and praxis was used to right wrongs and exterminate pollution. Surprisingly enough, today we learned just applicable these types of rituals can still be to our present lives (see Amber’s post for more on that). Even though we may no longer have a need for specific curse rituals (at least I hope we don’t) the people of antiquity had the right idea. Words and actions on their own are powerful, but together they are effectively progressive.

The Meaning That We Covet

Being in a country as old as Greece makes it hard to avoid sacred spaces. Most places (especially the ones we have visited) have important history, typically religious, associated with them. 

The three different approaches to sacred spaces that our class has discussed are:

1. Ontological – A space that is inherently sacred and everyone knows it.
2. Cultural – A space that is sacred because humans say it is.
3. Phenomenological – A space that has no cultural structure, but is sacred because of the interactions that humans have in it.

The Sanctuary of Athena at Delphi

I think all of these approaches have merit and can be applied to the various locations we’ve visited throughout this trip. Delphi, for example, is an ontological sacred space. We visited the ruins on Friday and had an amazing time. It is known to have been the location of Pythia, the Oracle of Delphi. This has great significance to the Greeks, but even to foreigners, the space is undeniably sacred. Delphi is seated on the south-western slope of Mount Parnassus and is impressive from every angle. The Sanctuary of Athena, however, is the focal point of the energy that surrounds Delphi. Our class spent a good chunk of time in the sanctuary, all of us sitting apart from one another and taking time to reflect, meditate, pray, etc. No matter where you’re from or what your background is, it is undeniable that Delphi is a sacred space.

As far as cultural sacred spaces go, Areopagus is probably my favorite out of those I’ve come across so far. But I won’t say too much about it since I’ve already made a post all about unintentionally stumbling upon the spot. All I’ll say is that the more I think about it the more impressive it is. It is quite literally a giant rock. But knowing that it is the spot where the Apostle Paul was brought before the Athenian Court preached to them, converting Dionysius the Areopagite in the process, resulting in the spread of Christianity through Athens is mind blowing.

Ah yes, another photo from Areopagus. But this time Danielle is the subject.

I think that my favorite approach to sacred spaces is phenomenological. I have a deep appreciation for other sacred spaces, however, I think that phenomenological is harder to pin point because it relies so much on personal experience. Like I said, a phenomenological sacred space is sacred because of the conversation and interaction humans have in it. We’ve come across many spots on this trip that might be considered phenomenological sacred spaces. But applying the concept to a specific location requires a specific experience with specific people. For me, personally, I could consider anything from the Sky Bar on Lycabettus Hill, to the Meteora Monasteries, to the Aegean Sea (which is currently lulling right outside my window) phenomenological sacred spaces. Some of these spaces, of course, would overlap into the other categories, but regardless, everyone comes into these places with different perspectives and leaves with unique experiences. This might be crossing into more of a romanticized philosophical approach so I’m going to stop before I get too far, but you get the idea.

Roussanou Monastery at Meteora

I will say, that the majority of this trip has felt sacred on some level or another. I’ve been thinking a lot about what my experiences might have been like if I first came to Greece on my own rather than with a class.  It would be a massively different experience. Our class consists of a great group of people and we each bring something different to the table (not to mention that actual information gained from Dr. Finitsis’ lectures makes our experiences all the more interesting and meaningful). Without these people our (or maybe just my own) experiences and memories from this trip would be very different. I’m sure they would still be meaningful, but I think that I would be taking something very different from this trip. In the end, I guess what I’m trying to say is that without human spirit, our lives (and sacred spaces) would lack the meaning that we covet.

The Candids of Life

Pictured: Danielle Lisk at Cape Sounion.
I thought it would be appropriate to include candid photos of various classmates with this post.

I think one of the main expectations when visiting a foreign country is that there might be a language barrier. However, I don’t really consider language to be a barrier (and not just because, in our case, many people we have encountered in Greece speak varying levels of English). Humans are naturally reliant on vision as a way to gather information and remember things. Therefore, we make up for what we can’t phonetically interpret with our eyes. As an artist, I am a visual person. It’s not that I can’t learn and process things in other ways, but I have a great appreciation for art and other forms of visual beauty.

It’s easy to forget that our class stands out. Even from a distance it is blatantly obvious that we are a large group of Americans. Just walking through the farmers market there were vendors that quickly noticed us and immediately switched from promoting their produce in Greek to doing so in English. I, myself, have been walking around Athens and have discovered that I can spot a fellow American from a mile away. It just happens. 

Pictured: Sarah Cornell-Maier at Cape Sounion. The Temple of Poseidon is in the distance.

Last night, I had the privilege of walking downtown to the Acropol Theater and seeing a professional Greek production of Matilda: The Musical. I didn’t understand a single word of it (okay, not true, I caught a couple of “yeses,” “nos,” and one “narcolepsy,” but you get the gist). But like I said, I don’t really consider language to be a major barrier in communication. There are many things that go into a musical production, and not all of these things are visual, but the plot, setting, and even specific lines of dialogue were completely understandable because of the visuals on stage. It was a fabulous production, to say the least. Seeing a show like this, heavily relying on visuals to understand what is going on, makes one appreciate different aspects and details that might normally be overlooked. This type of experience proves that stories, people, and so much more can be represented through what we see.

Pictured: Mikayla Nagy on the Athens Tram.

All of this makes me wonder what type of impression we leave on the people who we pass on the street. How do people perceive us in those moments where we are just going about our lives? When we are in our most natural state with no facades or charisma to hide behind? It comes down to visuals. These passersby see us in a single moment that, in their minds, becomes frozen in time. Much like a photo. Memories are the candids of life. As visitors we are representing both PLU and America and, in many cases, these brief impressions that we leave are done so through the ways we visually represent ourselves.

Visuals aren’t everything, but they do leave an impression. Author Joshua Foer once said, “As bad as we are at remembering names and phone numbers and word-for-word instructions from our colleagues, we have really exceptional visual and spacial memories.” At the end of the day it is the faces and sights that we remember and apply to our own perspectives. In turn we apply our perspectives to what we see. It is a never ending cycle. After all, as Dr. Finitsis (and Tina Turner) would say, “What you get is what you see.”

Seeking Discomfort. Together.

Our time in Greece could be summed up with many words. But alterity would probably be the most fitting. For those unfamiliar, alterity is a state of being other or different. The funny thing is, everything I see is new and different, yet it feels so very familiar. It feels like I’ve been here in Athens forever (cliche, I know).

The view from the top of Lycabettus Hill.

I suppose, oddly enough, that up to this point, the moment where I felt the most alterity was during our class excursion up to the Sky Bar on top of Lycabettus Hill. This is the highest point in Athens so the whole city can be seen from the top. After trekking up the hill in the dark, I found myself sitting around a table in a cozy bar with three friends whom I have gotten to know shockingly fast over the last few days. The odd thing is, it feels like we have known each other for much longer. Sitting around that table sharing desserts and drinks with one another, looking out at the view of Athens as a thunderstorm rolled in, I was trying to figure out how we all ended up here. It may be because I don’t normally have any desire to go to bars (though I’m definitely going back to this one), or it could just be that while we were up on that hill it hit me that we are actually here. Together we are experiencing the opportunity of a lifetime where everything is new and different. 

“Seeking discomfort” in the rain and wind in Mycenae.

The big thing I’ve noticed about alterity, is that is brings people together. Everyone in class is kind and supportive of each other, but we’ve also all found our groups of close friends. My apartment mates and myself have made it our own personal goal to place ourselves in a position that doesn’t make us Greek natives, but doesn’t make us tourists (see Erin’s post for more on that). The goal is to experience as many genuine raw experiences as possible. To seek discomfort. We’ve wandered around the city putting our route finding skills to the test, tested new places to eat (found some amazing gyros and the best gelato), and met some really amazing people along the way. It sounds cheesy, but four brains are better than one. Our different personalities and perspectives have led us to experience some really incredible things. 

As a class we’ve been told that if we aren’t uncomfortable while we are traveling, we aren’t doing it right. The thing, though, is that it is entirely possible to seek discomfort together and pursue the unknown. When alterity is embraced with open arms you never know what can happen.

We have a new appreciation for the sun after the intense weather we experienced yesterday.

Meandering, Myths, and Murder Trials

Looking towards the Aegean Sea from the top of Areopagus

On Tuesday evening some purposeful meandering brought us upon a spot that I had wanted to visit before even coming to Greece. We were walking along the road that circles the Acropolis when we saw a dirt trail heading into a park-like area. Being in an ancient metropolis with beauty around every corner, we couldn’t help but explore. This trail just so happened to bring us to the top of Areopagus. In other words, a giant rock. But as far as rocks go, this one is a pretty big deal, and not just because of the breathtakingly ethereal panoramic view of Athens that you can see from the top. There’s a myth behind it that provides context for the important part it plays in Athenian history.

Part of the expansive panoramic view of Athens

To summarize, the myth goes something like this:

The god of war, Ares, had a daughter named Alkippe with Agraulos (the daughter of the king of Athens). Halirrhothios, son of Poseidon, raped Alkippe. Ares caught him in the act, was furious, and murdered him on the spot. The trial of Ares (this is historically known to be the first judicial gathering) took place on top of what is now known as Areopagus. He was acquitted due to the circumstances under which he murdered Halirrhothios and Areios pagos (Areopagus: Hill of Ares) became a law court among Athenians, primarily known for dealing with homicide cases.

Myth and history flow through the veins of Athens. Everywhere I look is a piece of history with a myth behind it. The two go hand in hand, providing answers and reason and filling in the blanks for each other. Myths are “true lies,” stories that contain a combination of distorted truths and bits of history. In some ways, comparable to fables, though typically intertwined with a little more history. The point is, like fables, myths have important lessons and universal truths woven into them.

The Acropolis viewed from Areopagus

The myth of Areopagus not only serves as a cautionary tale, but it explains the beginning of judicial gatherings. It specifically gives an origin story to the Areopagus judiciary and legislative group and describes how the location became a sacred meeting place. The iconic rock later played another important role in history when the Apostle Paul was taken to the high court of Athens and gave his famous Areopagus sermon (mentioned in Acts 17:16-34) on top of “Mars Hill.” This was known to be the most dramatic and influential sermon of his missionary career.

Standing on an ancient sacred spot is a little mind-blowing (and you don’t even have to pay to get in!). It almost feels sacrilegious to just casually enjoy the sunset and take photos in such a historically important place. But knowing the myths and stories behind locations like these makes me appreciate them all the more. Murder trials may be a slightly morbid origin story, but that doesn’t negate the fact that the sunset we witnessed atop Areopagus was absolutely stunning and likely very similar to those witnessed by Athenians thousands of years ago from the very same spot.

Danielle Lisk, Allison Moore, Erin Hobbs, Katie McGregor