Day 5, Friday - Naplion, Epidavros, Tiryns, Sellasia
This morning we walked around Naplion. We saw the museum in the main square. The square is flanked by two mosques. One is now a cinema. The other, a museum/shrine as the site of the first Greek parliament after independence from Turkey. At the bakery, we bought some cookies, yogurt, and a cheese pie. We then began our climb up to the castle fortress, the castro, to take some pictures. There were no tourist shops going up the hill, only homes from which we could hear Greek domestic life screaming at each other. Looking down from the summit outward toward the sea below, the orange clay tile roofs reflect on building walls giving the whole city an orange cast. As we walked along the top of the fotress, every so often one comes across a statue of a lion, the emblem of Saint Mark of Venice. While Naplion faces the sea, a bay shielded from the Mediterranean Sea by the fortress hill sits hidden from view. At the top of the fortress, we could see down to this beautiful beach where the water is clean and blue. Half the town seemed to be swimming there. We were tempted to spend all day there, but we committed ourselves to sightseeing and drove to Epidavros instead.
The ruins of Epidavros are most impressive. This was a famous sanitarium\hospital dedicated to Asleplicos (sic), the god of healing. We could make out a tiled mosaic floor and a sewer system. Attached to the complex of buildings is an amphitheater which is still in tact. It is the best preserved in Greece and is what Epidavros is now famous for. The Greeks still hold plays here. While I sat on the top row, a tourist guide dropped a quarter at the center of the stage, a hundred feet away, which I could clearly hear. We ate a lunch of string beans and chicken just like my Grandma used to make. I had some tonic water which made my whole morning. It was very peaceful. There were not many tourists about. As we left Epidavros, we could see a large number of cafes where all the Greeks sit in the shade and seemingly do nothing but drink coffee. We drove back passed Naplion, and continued to Tiryns, another Mycenean ruin and the reputed birthplace of Heracles. We got there almost at closing time and had to rush through the place. It has massive walls making it clear this too was a fortress. An old man caught up with us in order to get us to leave, but before he did, he showed us a tunnel where the walls were as smooth as glass due to the wool of grazing sheep constantly moving through it.
Past Tiryns, the road zig zags up hill winding its way up a mountain range. Our destination, Tripoli, was on a plateau at the top. Even though we were far from the sea, the Aegean waters were clearly visible in the distance. A number of goats were grazing along the way. More farm trucks full of apricots crowded the way. Although the narrow road kept winding sharply upward, a number of Greek drivers passed me on blind curves.
At this point, we first became aware of little altars everywhere along the road side. Most were just small cylindrical glass containers that held a candle or incense and a photograph. At first, we couldn't figure out what they were or why they were here. Eventually we were told they were in memory of some loved one who died at the spot from a car accident. It's probably just as well that they are there, because there were no other caution signs anywhere in Greece.
Once we reached Tripoli, the rest of the road was at the same altitude. We did not stop in Tripoli. From what we saw, it was quite ugly. Other friends who have been there told us we didn't see the whole town and that it is much better than our first impression. We took what we thought was the road to Sparta, but it really went to Megapolis. The road to Megapolis went through farm lands of terraced hills. We drove through an afternoon sun shower and the whole countryside seemed to glow green from it. A little further on, we saw a large tent where a Greek family was having an outdoor picnic. We drove all the way before realizing we had made a mistake. We turned back, but it was worth seeing the countryside.
The road to Sparta looked much the same. After a two hour drive, we passed the exit to Sellasia, my grandmother’s village. which is two kilometers west of the main road to Sparta. The sign marking the exit is in both English and Greek which was funny because its spelled exactly the same in both languages.
Our original plan was to go directly to Sparta, get a hotel room and see Sellasia later, maybe the next day. However, I couldn't resist stopping to have Pam take my picture next to the exit sign. Then I just had to venture to the town entrance to take a few inconspicuous photographs. The entire town is on the steep foothills of the Pindos mountain range. There we saw a spectacular view of the Tygetos mountains west of the Spartan valley below. I soon found out it is very difficult for an American to be inconspicuous in a town of 600 people. A little old man with gray hair and blue eyes came walking down the road while I photographed the Tgyetos mountains. He immediately came up to me and in a very friendly manner, wanted to know who I was, who my family were and where I wanted to go. He started telling me about his own family. His name was Nikolas and he had a son who owned a restaurant named the Spartan in Chicago. He asked me if I knew it. I had to explain that there are many restaurants in Chicago named the Spartan. It was impossible to put him off without grossly insulting him, so I let him take us to my Aunt Loi who lives in the village.
Aunt Loi is the daughter of my Grandmother's (Mother's Mother) brother. Her maiden name was Kydiakopoulos. She spent five years in Chicago, but didn't like it. She still has two sons living there. She and her husband, Demo, came back to their old home in the village. My cousin Vivian gave me her name because having spent five years in Chicago, she was assumed to know English. When I got to the door and explained who I was, it was clear she didn't. Later, she told Pam that after five years in the U.S.A. all she knew was yes, no, and shit. I started speaking very poor Greek, and with great difficulty, explained who I was. When she realized what I was saying, she immediately embraced me and took us inside. We went upstairs to her kitchen which could have been in Chicago. It was apparent that they did a little remodeling when they returned home from the U.S.A.
While we sat in her kitchen, Demo went downstairs to make some Greek coffee. I thought this was peculiar since they had a kitchen stove right there in the kitchen where we sat. Then I noticed that everything was unusually clean and spotless. The refrigerator door was also ajar. This could only mean it was left that way to prevent mold from growing in an otherwise air tight container. This kitchen was just for show. All the cooking was done downstairs in a more primative area. They used the upstairs kitchen as a parlor for entertaining. They never showed us the downstairs level. This reminded me of my Grandmother's house. Grandmother had a living room too, but she always entertained in the kitchen. I felt like it was 1960 and I was back at home again at 3133 North Linder Avenue on the northwest side of Chicago. As we drank coffee, Demo went out to find someone who spoke English. He found Jimmy Varlas who spent five years in Chicago washing dishes. Jimmy saved enough money to come back to his village and buy a farm. His English was very good. Apparently word spread throughout the village that we were there, because every ten minutes someone would come in to meet us. None of them spoke English, so Jimmy Varlas had to interpret for them. It was like the Johnny Carson Show. Somebody would come in to talk for a few minutes and then move over to let the next guest take his/her turn. Mostly, these people came to gawk. There isn't much else to do in Sellasia. I didn't notice any televisions. We spent a couple of hours like this. Loi would ask me very simple yes or no questions in remedial Greek. Then she would elaborate to all the other people. I understood most everything they said, but was not able to respond.
Jimmy Varlas told me that Sellasia first obtained electricity and running tap water in 1967. A member of the Greek junta dictatorship which took over the country in 1967 was from Sellasia and used his position of power to bring electricity to the village. At about the same time, another village member, who had gone off to America and made a fortune, died and left half of it to the village to bring water all the way from Athens. The other half went to one of my second cousins in San Diego who was his godchild. My Uncle Bill Demos, who married my grandmother’s sister, Andromache, came to Greece at that time to oversee the project.
Its hard to imagine any place without running water and electricity. It is an indication of how recent Greece's entrance into the modern world has been. Life here in my grandmother's time must have been like the middle ages. There would have been no asphalt roads, no telephone, or radio, no television, and no cars either. Sparta, which was a few minutes away by car in the valley 2000 feet below would have been a long arduous journey by horse or donkey.
Now, Sellasia is a very pleasant place. I can understand why Loi wanted to come back here. But I can also understand why my grandmother and so many other Greeks left to come to the U.S.A. early in the 20th century. Grandmother came from the old Sellasia, a very backward village. A village without running water pipes or electricity. That's how she always remembered it. She could not understand why anybody would choose to go back. Now life here doesn’t have to be very different from living in an American suburb.
After leaving, we finally went directly to Sparta to find accommodations. It was dark by the time we got there. The top floors of our hotel were unfinished cement blocks. After settling in, we went out for dinner around 9:00 p.m. I made the mistake of ordering beef. I should have known better because I had already seen what the steers looked like. They didn't look anything like American cattle. They looked more like Greek cats, sort of thin and scrawny, not at all well fed. The meat I ate was very tough. After dinner, we wandered around and found the main square. Even though it was past 10:00 p.m., it was summer time and without school to worry about, screaming young children were given free rein to run around all over the place. There was a lot of activity there. Old women sat passing gossip back and forth while keeping a close eye on their grandchildren. The place was really hopping.
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