I've been kept busy with work and there hadn't been the opportunity to go travelling, however my partner had a week long business trip to Edinburgh lined up and was happy for me to tag along. I love this city, I have many happy memories of what I think is one of the most beautiful places in Europe.
Already, I can't wait to return.
Before going to Charmeana, I spent the morning sitting on the beach...
This weekend just gone I returned to the area of Fokida for the Charmaena celebrations, for the second year running.
Charmaena is a part of Amfissa where the local tanners lived and worked, in part because of the conveniently located water spring. One of them, Konstantis, apparently lost his wife to a lightning strike near the spring. He died shortly thereafter, and legend has it he haunted the spring and the whole area and would walk around on Saturday nights, howling and dragging chains. Pretty standard haunting, of course. Except this one, like many other supernatural beings in Greek folklore, wasn't all bad. He became the unofficial protector of tanners in the area, and kept other, less friendly ghosts at bay.
It's this legend that is reconstructed in Amfissa to this day. And this is merely the excuse, because even though the Charmaena Ghost is there, as an impressive nine foot, eerie bulk (that looks like a Lovecraftian muppet), but also two of the ghosts he found to protect his favourite tanners.
There are various processions of the most Dionysian of creatures - people dressed in sheep fleeces, with blackened faces and bells strapped to them run through the streets howling, ringing their bells, beating makeshift drums, some even have ram horns on. There's also a sombre, languid rhythmic procession of torch-bearing maidens in make-up, along with an assortment of ghosts (the sheet-over-the-head variety), witches (the pointy-hat variety) and other creatures of the night.
The groups converge, reaching on of the town squares and are joined by the three ghosts. The noise and energy that results is astounding. These are mountain people who spend most of the year pent up, repressed and anhedonic. This is the week they can let it all out, and out it all comes! In the process, fulfilling their needs serve to bring this incredible event to life, and to keep what appears to be one of the last surviving rites of Dionysos alive. And all this, not twenty minutes' drive from Delphi - nominally, Apollo's Panhellenic sanctuary, but interestingly enough, the centre of Dionysos' worship during the winter months.
Once I got back from my trip, Athens (along with the rest of the country) was hit with a few days of snow.
I went north again...
I went to Amsterdam for a long weekend with my partner. It was cold, it was wet, but by gods it was fun.
Meteora is a collection of monasteries built on sandstone rock pillars which loom over the (more recently built) town of Kalambaka. The photograph to the left is walkway to the first place we visited - The Holy Monastery of Varlaam, the second largest in the 'complex'. The history within these walls is amazing, and the museum was fascinating, with illustrated manuscripts and centuries old embroidered robes. We hung around until the group of Russian tourists left, so we could clearly look at the frescos in the chapel, which depicted some pretty horrific things, such as the journey to hell. There was also an immense barrel, which I like to believe was once upon a time filled with wine.
The monasteries are all still in use, as a result, out of respect, people are asked to be "correctly attired", so that means no bare arms or legs and women must wear a skirt. At Varlaam there was a monk who seemed more than happy to chat with the tourists, so long as they spoke Greek (yet another reason I'd like to improve my language skills).
We then drove up to The Holy Monastery of Great Meteoron, which as the most famous of the monasteries was overcrowded with far too many children so we gave up and moved towards yet another monastery (actually, nunnery in this case, I think it was The Holy Monastery of Saint Stephen), but I was knackered and hungry to the point of being ready to faint, so we opted for food over getting thee to a nunnery.
We drove down towards Kalambaka, but due to the season not starting
until the following day, there was not much choice, however what we
discovered was a diamond in the rough. Run by an old married couple,
with a giant cat (seriously, this thing was huge and totally had the
"I'm starving, feed me" look going on, despite the fact that he
obviously wasn't) roaming from table to table. There was the obligatory
Spuds 'n' Salad combo and little else, but the old guy was grilling
meats by the roadside, so an order was made. It was pork, but I was
hungry and it was delicious. Greece has totally ruined me as a
vegetarian. As the lunch run was finishing and there were still a
couple of spare (home made) sausages, the 'chef' came over and asked us
if we wanted one. Full, we declined, but he laughed, pulled it off the
spit and slammed it on the table. Good gods is was tasty!
Our stomachs filled we drove back up and decided to visit The Rousanou Monastery,
simply because it had the latest opening times. No longer filled with
monks, the monastery is filled with nuns (and young ones at that). I
tell you if I were to believe in god and give my life to his greater
glory, I'd want to be there. I'm not religious, nor particularly
spiritual, but this place has a reverential feel to it that you can't
escape.
Once we finished
here we got in the car and drove Athens-wards, and with more than a bit
of good fortune, the rain started to fall almost immediately.
