Osios Loukas & Delphi, 26-27 April

We boarded the bus at 8:30 Monday morning and departed Athens along the lower slopes of Mt. Hymettus—near where Nancy and I hiked the day before on trails through groves of pine, olive, and stunningly tall cypress to the Kaisariani Monastery—and drove towards the oracle of Apollo at Delphi. As we traversed Boetia, Hesiod’s land, a strong wind began buffeting the bus. It stayed with us all day, tearing through the landscape, pulling trees wildly. We stopped for a tour and picnic at a beautiful Byzantine monastery on the slopes of Mt. Helicon—a mountain sacred to the muses—Osios Loukas, founded in the early 10th century by a monk who had spent a decade as a hermit atop a pillar: St. Loukas, a driven man. As we descended the stone steps towards the monastery grounds, the winds almost blew us back up the hill, and on the main square they tore through an enormous plane tree at the valley’s edge with a great roar and alarming force, the massive limbs tossing. Very dramatic. The view from the monastery is mesmerizing: great-shouldered mountains stand opposite; a large valley spreads beneath, its expanse of grasses, olive groves, and occasional cypresses pushed into frenzied, sinuous dance by the wind. The monastery too is beautiful. The remains of the titular saint, scarcely visible in a recess, still reside in the sanctuary, along with better preserved frescoes and mosaics. Apparently pilgrims used to sleep beside his relics in hopes of a cure for whatever ailed them: a process of dream therapy called "incubation" that derives directly from the cult of Asclepius.

After roaming the grounds & the interiors, the students retreated from the wind for lunch to a small room prepared for us by the man in the gift shop. Nancy and I arrived a bit late, found the space full, and took our picnic in an alcove near the monastery’s fountain, good potable water.

Then we proceeded to Delphi, one of the earth’s rare places. If Apollo no longer speaks here, it remains a site of great spiritual power. When Zeus released two eagles to fly around the world, they met at Delphi: for the ancient Greeks, this was the center of the world. In many respects, it still is. In Greece, pivotal Mediterranean space, "East" and "West" still meet. On my hotel balcony early this morning, as the sunlight reached down along the slopes of the great ravine opposite and struck the olive-carpeted valley below, pushing cloud and earth-shadows out of its way, I realized anew why this place was sacred to Apollo—Phoebus, the radiant one, the young sky-god—the embodiment of the sacred light of Greece.

Michael Wedde organized our information-packed tour of the grounds. Monday afternoon we visited the lower site—the Temple of Athena, the Gymnasium, and the Castalian spring, where we filled our water bottles—and, after rest and free time, shared a taverna dinner (mixed reviews on the food—Nancy was served moldy tiropita, the salad must have been Sunday’s, the grilled chicken was dry—but the company was good), and gelato elsewhere afterward. This morning we climbed the sacred way, examined its numerous treasuries, viewed the Sybil’s rock, the Temple of Apollo, and the theater above it, before descending to the museum. High points indoors included the Sphinx of Naxos—a great lion-bird-woman who radiates a beautiful indifference, disconcerting calm—the Sifnian treasury metopes, which depict the abduction of Helen, the war between the gods and giants (with Dionysus following Cybele's chariot, whose lead lion tears into the thigh and torso of a smallish giant), Heracles’ disruptive arrival at Delphi, and more; the exquisite white-ground kylix of Apollo playing a tortoise shell lyre and pouring a libation of wine, a black crow watching; and of course the bronze charioteer, his tall clean form, laser eyes (even to the eyelashes) and steady gaze intact.

Delphi! Do not miss it while you live.

On the way home, we stopped for lunch in Arahova, a lovely hillside town with spectacular views of the gorge that leads to the oracle. The town also produces cylinders of sheep's milk cheese that you can slice and fry in olive oil, especially delicious when splashed with lemon juice.