An Ode to GREECE
A jaunt through Greece's iconic
architectural buffet and diverse food platter
Like TS Eliot's Prufrock, I stand
and stare at the milky white Doric columns of the Parthenon, silhouetted
against a ver million sun, almost forgetting to breathe for a few minutes.
Unmindful of the catatonic heat, and
the touristy whirligig that engulfs me, I volley frantically between my iPhone,
iPad and Nikon to capture classical Greece's most iconic architectural marvel
-the Acropolis.
My paparazzi-like fervour is
punctured somewhat by a gravelly voice. “Please don't stop here. This is the
entrance, keep moving!“ a guard instructs me. The gent is shepherding huge
crowds off the temple's stairs as they pause mid-climb to marvel at the sheer
size and complexity of the structure, thereby creating a gridlock. Regardless,
I'm told the Acropo lis is snapped by over three million visitors per year, a
testimony to its stunning beauty.
Built in the fifth century BC, the
phalanx of Acropolis temples is actually a substantial plateaued rock perched
high above the concrete jungle that is modern Athens. It offers a riveting
amphitheatre -the Parthenon, Propylaea gateway, Temple of Athena Nike,
Erechtheum...and fortuitously, our 12-euro-each pass allowed us access to the
architectural buffet. Even though a lot of the Acropolis' structures are
currently undergoing long-term restorative work, and are swathed in
scaffoldings, their allure remains undiminished. The magnificence of light bouncing
off those storied 46 Doric pillars forces one to wonder about the resilience of
a structure that has withstood 2,500 years of earthquakes, erosion and a
devastating bombshell that would have flattened anything ordinary.
But then Greece isn't about the
ordinary. It is about grandeur, elegance and splendour. And each place we
visited on our familial vacation -Athens, Santorini, Mykonos, Pyrgos -offered
us plenty of all three. There was salubriousness to soak in, world heritage
monuments to gawk at and luminous seascapes to laud. While walking, we would
stumble upon a charming ruin as if it was no big deal, when it actually was. Marketplaces
radiated palpable atmosphere, squaresparks flaunted exquisitely chiselled
marble statues...The sensory overload made our heads spin.
At the Acropolis Museum in Athens,
designed by Swissborn architect Bernard Tschumi, we inspected artefacts from
Greece's most famous sites including the Hekatompedon, Acropolis' oldest
building. Tiptoeing gingerly over seethrough glass, we checked out sprawling
Grecian ruins in the netherworld even as our legs turned to jelly. The
Parthenon Gallery -where portions of the Parthenon frieze are dramatically
showcased -took us over an hour of exploration.
Vibrant Athens
Athens, the national capital city,
is vibrant and full of culture, both ancient and modern, playing muse to famous
travel writers like Henry Miller, Freya Stark and Sir Patrick Leigh Fermor.
Central Athens' oldest neighbourhood -Plaka -radiates atmosphere so tangible it
can be sliced with a knife. This is the city's oldest part, an old Ottoman
quarter nestling along the Acropolis' slopes.
Plaka's Byzantine alleys and
pedestrianised streets overflow with cafés and boutiques. And as I navigated my
way around this concrete jigsaw, narrow cobblestoned streets , souvenir kiosks
and whitewashed neoclassical architecture presented a beguiling cocktail of
modernity and tradition. Athens' elegant ambience was settling into my bones.
Smack dab in the midst of Plaka lies
Monastiraki (or `little monastery'), Athens' principal enclave hosting antique
shops and a sprawling al fresco market. This is where street peddlers will vie
for your euros selling fresh flowers and knick-knacks.
I focus on the theatre around
-bustling crowds, endless photo ops in the form of vendors' baskets spilling
over with succulent strawberries, apricots, nectarines, a hawker selling
Spartan helmets, Grecian urns and antique crockery. Even as I'm rifling through
these wares, rhythmic drum beats entice me like the song of a Mediterranean
siren to the Roman agora (open square) where a group of youths are singing and
dancing. An eclectic audience is taking it all in from the Monastiraki square.
The youths serenade tourists and diners, catalysing business at nearby eateries,
in exchange for tips or free meals.
Athens possesses an energy that's
hard to miss. Is it the city's friendly people? Its architecture, brimming with
tales of intrigue and valour? Or is its fabled museums? All, I reckon, coalesce
to make the place irresistible.The city also adroitly juxtaposes the old with
the new. Along with ruins, it offers the most pulsating nightlife in Europe.
The freshlyminted districts of Psirri and Gazi, with their slick tavernas, bars
and experimental dance clubs, are packed to the rafters each night by the
fashion-forward. Clubs resonate with the strains of violins, mandolins,
guitars, and peppy traditional music. Economic turmoil?
Who dat?
Who dat?
Foodie's Haven
The National Gardens are a
much-thronged leafy oases in Athens. Cypress, pine and palm trees provide a
verdant canopy for trails, brooks, bridges, duck ponds and a botanical museum.
Cheek by jowl sits the stately Parliament building and the Monument of the
Unknown Soldier, the latter swarming with tourists clicking selfies with the
bashful evzones (the elite, skirt-sporting military guards) whose w duty
changes on the hour.
You'll always eat well in Athens.
From wallet-friendly le pita-on-the-go joints to tony tavern with glam
degustation menus, there's the nas whole enchilada on offer. One star-speckled
w night, we dined at Cafe Avissinia in Monastiran ki. As street musicians did
their thing, we k worked our way through a grilled platter -a w marine medley
comprising lightly battered, m cajun-dusted chorizo, calamari and cro quettes
swimming in a berry tzaziki. Up next was a roasted manouri cheese salad
anointed w with pine nuts, orange segments and a black berry dressing. Rounding
off the meal was sarikopita, a gooey cheese pie drizzled with honey and toasted
sesame. I took my first bite and almost melted m into one big taste bud.
The Greek hodgepodge school of
international cooking mirrors sundry culinary influences -African, Middle
Eastern, European, even British. The Spanish imprimaturer manifests itself in
the form of `mezedes' or tapas. These are delicious bon mots, concocted from
whatever catches the de chef 's fancy that day. But presentation is key.
Usually, chmezedes are brought out for inspection by the chef, allowing punters
to choose the ones they'd like to be served. For lunch at a local bistro, we
ordered an assortment of mezedes -lemony stuffed cabbage with béchamel, m
chopped fried zucchini, shitake with tzaziki, and creamy ch feta flecked with
hot green peppers. The Greek salad with a fe brick of salty feta, dark-hued
olive oil and a garlicky tzaziki br was super tasty. As was the lamb meatball
curry, slow w cooked down to a melting melange of meat pieces, spices, co
onion, mint and garlic. Dessert was gelato -not one, but on two, each! There
were so many tempting flavours, it was hard to choose just one. Brunches are also a big draw in Athens,
popular items being frittata with truffles, tomatoes and artichokes, and pies
layered with spinach, feta or smoked bacon. Coffee drinking seems to be the
city's favourite pastime. Cafes are chockfull of punters chinwagging over
froth-topped frappé, a chilled concoction whose craze swept over Greece in the
late '60s and '70s. And apparently still hasn't abated.
We watch a cafe owner construct our
frappes with a flurry of sugar and water in a shaker until it was as frothy as
a meringue. The liquid was then poured into a tall glass, and ice and
evaporated milk were added. Unlike frappe, Elliniko -the quintessentially Greek
beverage -made by hand is witnessing eroding standards due to the increased use
of espresso machines, rued many restaurateurs.
Cape Sounion
On our last day in Athens, we drove
down to Cape Sounion, a stunning suburb gilded by a lapis lazuli Aegean Sea. It
was a cloudless day, an intoxicating zephyr weaving magic in the air. Sounion
is where the ruins of the ancient temple dedicated to Greek Poseidon, the God
of sea, are located. In a maritime country like Greece, Poseidon ruled the
divine hierarchy. His volatile temper, manifested in the form of fiery storms,
struck fear in the heart of mariners.
Apparently, Cape Sounion was also
where Aegeus, king of Athens, leapt to his death thus bequeathing his name to
the Aegean Sea. Legend has it that Aegeus had a meltdown when he saw a black
sail on his son Theseus' ship. The latter was returning from Crete after
battling Minotaur, half man, half bull. Presuming his son was killed in the
gladiatorial contest, Aegeus committed suicide. Ironically, Theseus was
returning victorious but was so tired, he forgot to change the flag.
The earliest literary reference to
Sounion is in Homer's Odyssey. And my mind flashed back to college, when as an
English literature student, the epic's exquisite prose had seamlessly
transported me from the dreary confines of the classroom to enchanting Grecian
shores. Who knew that one day I'd actually be travelling in real time to the
very terra firma the bard had so eloquently described in one of my favourite
narratives?
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Neeta Lal
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ETM16AUG15
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