Zeus even followed Martin to Dublin!
We were on our approach to Athens when Zeus arrived. It was sort of the Zeus-like entrance that we have studied about. A bright flash of light on the left wing, starting egg-like on the very front edge and then expanding rapidly with a loud “boom.” Several people screamed, startled. I looked around for the airline attendants. They looked over at the wing and then went back to work. Apparently lightning strikes are a regular occurrence when flying. It was Zeus’s way of welcoming us to Greece, the birthplace of Western democracy, good food and drink. Switchback was bringing a group of people, mainly from Des Moines, Iowa to visit the beautiful city of Nafpaktos. From looking at the photos, it seemed like it was going to be a beautiful visit. It turned out to be a fantastic adventure, with wonderful people and stunning sites. And that fellow, Zeus. Lightning, the calling card of the leader of Olympus, became the theme for the tour. Nobody was scathed, frightened maybe, but the Lord of the gods made sure we knew he was around. We got to Nafpaktos, settled into our lovely rooms, when a big storm came in. Thunder and lightning seemed to be everywhere. And Zeus decided to really light things up with a bolt that landed nearby and incinerated a palm tree.
Oops!
Our guide, Christos, was non-plussed about it all. “We need the rain,” he said with a smile. Considering this part of the country had been suffering under a drought, he was right. Finally, the weather was starting to bring some relief to them. “I am happy they are getting their rain,” said Wickie, one of our groups. “But couldn’t it have waited until next week?” That said, we did receive sunshine, including one glorious Sunday’s worth of sublime sun, azure skies and the most stunning view of the bay that Nafpaktos sits on. Far off in the distance, there would be some storm clouds. The result was this beautiful painting of light, dark, shade and barely lit, rain obscuring and sun revealing. It was as if Zeus decided to show us the majesty of his world, that mythological kingdom, that once upon a time was thought to be the very center of the world. Gazing at all the beauty, I could understand why the ancient Greeks felt they were indeed at the center of it all. It looked to me that we indeed were, or at least at a place where we would not want to roam much further from where we were.
For here in Greece, the plains are filled with ancient groves of olives. On the road to Delphi, they spread out as a barely green sea, the largest grove of its kind in the whole country. As one climbs to the famous oracle spot (which the Greeks really did think was the center of the world) the whole view was one of drab green, against the stark blue of the water, crystalline white clouds with no discernible pattern to them against the deepest blue of a sky. And there in the distance, Zeus on his chariot of rain, occasionally throwing a bolt to let us know that he was nearby.
And so, that was how the trip went. We would get a little rain, we would get a little sun, and the combination of both were magically wrought to create a breathtaking panorama that felt like nothing I had ever seen before in my life.
As the days of the tour wound down, we had to sadly leave Nafpaktos (and it won’t be a one-off for myself, I’ll be back) and we decided to take the ferry across the bay to get on the main road to Athens. Zeus led the way and we watched from the deck of the boat as the grey rain marched alongside our journey, miles apart but headed in the same direction. Every now and then, a bright flash of light and a rumble of thunder to remind us Zeus was along for the ride. Athens is an international, bustling, congested, graffitied, neon-lit, ancient and new city. As Irini, our other guide said, the longest continuously lived-in city in the western world. We spent our final day with an ascent to the top of the Acropolis. Up to the last 20 minutes prior to our entry, the day was resplendent with sunshine and warmth. I ditched my jacket on the tour bus, forgetting that Zeus was in charge. Sure enough, we met our guide to climb to view the Parthenon and there in the distance, making his way to guide us as well, was Zeus. We filed up the Acropolis, little spatters of rain slowly growing in intensity. I gritted my teeth and regretted that my rain-proof jacket was miles away on the coach. But then, I relaxed. Wasn’t this part of the whole journey? Not to climb as some modern-day visitor, but that person of another time, when Zeus was truly and totally in charge. When the problems of the world were addressed right here, at the Acropolis. As our guide Babi told us, “This was a hospital, where the arts helped us center our souls. Where music brought us into tune with the sphere of the Universe.” Indeed, the site was actually that, besides music and drama, modern psychiatry, philosophy and the rule of law were created here to keep us in balance as molecules in the whole physical, spiritual being that is the Universe. Here, at the Acropolis, slowly walking over ancient marble stones and tiles, most likely once parts of glorious temples, was truly the navel of the modern world. Modernity, human social and spiritual sense of us was first brought into focus--here. Here, with all these people trudging in the rain, laughing and taking pictures. Yes, the rain was a distraction--I couldn’t get the whole talk the guide gave, but Zeus, impatient, reminded us to walk with a little respect. A bright flash of light lit up the skies, with a huge crack of thunder, dangerously close. No one was hurt, but people were spooked and then made their way down as quickly as they could in the rain. Zeus, it seemed, wanted us to remember that we are not there to gape at ruins, but to visit the temple that we ourselves are a part of. This site was the very existence of what hopefully gives us the right to call ourselves civilized. And though in ruins that temple was just a way to give us mere mortals a physical view of what is in each of our souls. “What do you think all the lightning on this trip meant?” I asked Kristen, one of the people in our group as we picked our way down from the top. A young man overhearing my question jumped in. “That death is all around us,” he said seriously and scurried onward, eager to avoid that death that he just stated was around us and him regardless of that transparent comfort of safety he envisioned at the base of the Acropolis. He was right, death does exist all around us, but so does life and so does the ability to grasp and believe that we mere mortals are worthy of being part of something larger and better. That’s what went through my mind as we made our way back to the coach. Zeus, riding away in his chariot, threw a final little bolt off in the distance. “Yes” was all he said.
READ MARTIN'S OTHER BLOG HERE.