Over the past two weeks, I've visited a lot of archaeological sites: the Acropolis, the Temple of Olympian Zeus, the Temple of Poseidon at Isthmia, the Temple of Zeus at Nemea, the palaces at Mycenae and Tiryns, and more. Nearly everywhere there are ruins of different ancient memorials, sanctuaries, and buildings. Most of them look something like this:



There is certainly some information to be gained from building foundations like this. Certain notches in the stone indicate how the building fit together, or if there was a column or statue in a given spot. If any of the building stones are inscribed, there is a lot more information that can be gathered. And the floor plan can indicate what type of building this was. Yet, I have reservations about just how much information can be gained from these ground-level stone blocks. In most museums, there are model reconstructions of the site, showing elaborate temples with peripteral columns and pediments and all sorts of supporting buildings. Yet, there may only be a few scattered column drums, or a heap of rubble to indicate this. Sometimes, archaeologists are lucky and find a cache of sculpture and statues from a destroyed temple that was buried in a pit, but other times the sites have been pillaged, re-purposed, or eroded away by natural forces. In many cases, it does not appear to me that the archaeological evidence is sufficient to justify the reconstruction.

Another line of evidence is literary records, which helps fill some of the gap, but is still not sufficient. There are some written records of what sanctuaries looked like or were used for, such as those written Pausanias, that were done while these places were still in use. However, for others, the records were written long after the site was disused, or were second- or third-hand accounts. It is difficult to evaluate the accuracy and reliability of these records, and so they are also not enough for me to really trust the reconstructions.

A third justification for some of the models, as well as for what various monuments and temples actually are, is looking at other sites. For instance, at a site near Argos, there's a temple to Apollo, and a second structure, including a round monument, similar to that at Delphi. Thus, it's been suggested that since the round monument at Delphi is dedicated to Artemis, that the one at Argos is the same. This logic is reasonable, and parallels can certainly be drawn, but seems to me like a flimsy argument for either claiming a purpose for unknown ruins or reconstructing them to match the known parallel.

Overall, there is some merit to reconstructing sites. It gives both the historians and the general public a visual sense of the landscape of a world that existed 2000 years ago. And it creates a much more interesting picture than toppled columns and building foundations. Yet, it is something to be cautious about. In this class, it has been very clear that these are the best reconstructions based on what is known from the literary and archaeological sources. If there is really not enough evidence to draw any sort of conclusion, then Professor Hall will simply say that we don't know. However, the books and museums do not seem to make this disclaimer as strongly, and often just present the reconstructions as fact rather than hypothesis. Thus, I feel some reservations about trusting the models or rebuilt sites regularly seen in our travels. The evidence doesn't seem to live up to a rigorous standard, in many cases, and so I wonder how much we actually know, versus how much is mere guesswork.

Sorry for the recent post drought. After being gone for three days, I've had a lot to catch up on, and so haven't been blogging. I'm currently sorting through all of my photographs and notes from the trip to the Argolid, so hopefully the posts from those three days will be up shortly. In the meantime, though, I wanted to talk about some events that took place over the weekend.

On Thursday, while I was in the Argolid, a man named Dmitris Christoulas, a 77 year old retired pharmacist, committed suicide in Syntagma Square, as a protest to the austerity measures. In his suicide note, he wrote, "I cannot find any other form of struggle except a dignified end before I have to start scrounging for food from the rubbish" (source). Following this, Greek citizens reacted violently. There were riots on Thursday, following the event, and again on Saturday, after his funeral procession. I don't know how this event has rippled outside of Greece, but within the country, it seems to be making quite an impact. There's more information on the funeral, and the reactions of the Greek people, here.

Yesterday afternoon, after checking that everything was all calm, my roommate and I went to Syntagma to see the reaction. In the center of the square is a giant tree, covered with lights and paper notes and signs, surrounded by rings of candles and flowers. There were many people there, adding their own notes, placing flowers, or just reading the outpouring of anger and sadness already presented. It was a really powerful memorial, and one of the first really clear signs I've seen that all is not right in this country. On the surface, everyone is happy and peaceful, and things are going well. But economically and politically, things are far from nice and settled. Sometimes, that tension boils up to the surface, like it did this weekend.

For the past two weeks, I've been wandering around in ancient history, looking at artifacts and sites from 2000+ years ago. But that's not the only history present in this country. Right now, if I stop to look, there's history happening all around me. Greece is at a tipping point, and the future is uncertain, for both the country and its people.

Today is April 5th, which by itself doesn't mean a whole lot. I don't know of any major Greek historical events (or American ones, for that matter) that took place today.

However, it is an important day to me, because today is my boyfriend's birthday. In particular, it's the day he finally escapes being a teenager. The rest of this post is addressed to him.

C.: I hope you have a fantastic day, and I'm sorry I'm so far away right now. I can't wait to tell you all the stories about my adventures here in Greece, and hear yours from Flag and Boulder. I can't wait till I can show you this place, and discover new ones with you.

Happy birthday!

I am not a huge fan of modern or abstract art, in the States. Most of it just makes no sense to me, or seems like a waste of space and material. Now, that's not to say that I hate all of it: I can find individual pieces that I like in any style or genre, be it in visual art, music, theatre, literature, what have you. However, a few pieces here and there are far from the whole, and American contemporary art does nothing for me.

On the tour of Greek galleries tonight, however, I found that that attitude applies much more strongly to American modern art than to Greek modern art. We took a tour of 5 different galleries in the Kolonaki area, each with very different pieces on display. The first we went to featured the art of Manolis Charos, made within the last four years. These pieces were primarily surrealist-like paintings, with one found object sculpture. I really liked most of them, particularly these couple:




The next gallery was also really interesting, this time featuring a paper sculpture artist, Tsakirakakis. His works combine color, dimensionality, and language to create some really powerful images. Some of his works are simply beautiful, like his piece "Smell", which is a paper construction depicting flowers with the word smell entwined in the leaves. Others were more political, such as one showing a ton of cars tangled up in traffic, emitting CO2, or one with the word "Democracy worked into it. My favorite one, simply because it's a bit funny, is the Politics one:



The last few galleries did not impress me quite as much as the first two, but they were still interesting in their own right. The third featured the work of Aikaterini Gegisian, in an exhibit titled "Who Doesn't Like a Good Old Story?" She is an Armenian artist, and so her photography focuses on Armenian subjects. There was a lot of contrast between the old and the new, and nature versus the man-made in her work, which was quite interesting. The fourth included the works of Alexis Korbis, in "Third Heaven". These painting were very realistic, with dark backgrounds and human figures, presented as they look in life. These figures all seemed to be contemplating themselves, and usually a reflection or faded image of the subject was included in each work. Finally, the last gallery displayed the work of Maria Blanth, who does abstract clay sculpture. This was probably the least favorite of the shows we visited, simply because it is this kind of "find your own meaning" abstraction that is overwhelming in American modern art, that I tend to find somewhat useless. Still, it was interesting listening to the artist talk about her work, so that improved it somewhat.

For the past two weeks, I've seen a lot of art and architecture, but most of the focus has been on pre-Classical works. While that is something that interests me more than modern art, in general, in general, here in Athens, those pieces are remnants of a long-gone era. Visiting these galleries, and seeing and hearing how Greeks today view their world and interpret it through visual media, has given me much more of a sense of what this country, today, is going through. Despite outward appearances at the moment, it isn't a settled, peaceful, "first-world" sort of place... it is a people and a culture going through a time of unsettlement, of change, of coming to a new identity. That theme ran through all the art I saw tonight, and has given me a new perspective on this place I call home for the next few months.

I wish I could say that I've been really productive and done all sorta of awesome things this weekend. It would make a much better excuse fit not blogging yesterday. But, in all honestly, I haven't done much this weekend. I've been a bit sick, and so ended up sleeping, reading, or watching TV shows for much of the past 48 hours, because I simply didn't feel up to doing anything else.

That being said, though, I did go on a couple short adventures, while most of the rest of the group was out partying and island hopping. The first of these, yesterday, me and one roommate went to the Areopagus again, and then tried to figure out if you could walk all the way around the base of the Acropolis (you can't). It was a nice walk, but nothing terribly groundbreaking.

Today, however, we went to a little museum near the National Gardens. They had a temporary exhibit there on the Greek-Turkish population exchange, which took place in 1923. Between war and the exchange, over 1,200,000 "Greeks" (actually just people who followed the Greek Orthodox religion) in Turkey were deported to Greece, and thousands of Muslims were deported from Greece to Turkey. The photos of these refugees, and the conditions they lived in, were extremely powerful. I think my favorite photo, however, was of a little refugee girl, sitting in the lap of a member of the Greek ceremonial guard, just laughing and playing shy with the camera. If there is ever a tragedy so great that not even kids can laugh, I don't think anyone will have hope for the future.

As much as this first week has been fun, there's only so much of the same 24 other people I can tolerate, and after some incidents last night, I needed to escape from everyone and just get away. Fortunately, unlike in Chicago, that's very easy to do here in Athens. Exactly a week ago, when Katja took us on the walking tour of Central Athens, she'd suggested that we climb the Hill of the Muses, which is one of her favorite places in the whole of Athens. It's also right near the Acropolis, which I've been to around four times now, and it's always busy there, since it's a major tourist trap, so I packed a lunch and hiked off by myself to climb the hill.

It's a really nice hike there. Once I got to the fork in the path, where one way leads up the Hill of the Muses and the other leads around the base of the Acropolis, there were almost no other people around, and the hike was at a nice shallow incline, forested most of the way up, before opening up into an amazing view of Athens and the Acropolis.


I hung out up there for a while, eating my lunch and just thinking about my week, and my life in general. I don't know yet, how much different I will be after this trip than I was before it. I feel like I am becoming more confident on my own, but then, I've only been here for a short period of time, and I'm around strangers, who I'm always more confident around. I certainly will be healthier: despite all the second-hand smoke, the air is much cleaner here, and the weather and elevation changes are much more to my liking. The food is also better: I can cook for myself, or go to a taverna or restaurant and get large portions of tasty food on the cheap. As to what else will change, physically or mentally, I don't yet know. We'll have to wait and see. I think after this, though, I will be more prepared to take on the future ahead of me. Preparing for graduate school and making decisions about my life is something that scared me immensely. It's exciting, but also a major life change, and especially being as young as I am, it's rather terrifying. I like having a rhythm, a place I know with people I like, a plan. Moving to grad school will break me out of that, make me have to start all over again. Yet, this program is like that as well, with the added challenge of being surrounded by people who don't speak the same language as I do. Being here makes me feel much more prepared for the next year, and the adventures that will come afterwards.

Before I get to that, though, I need to complete my adventures here. So, after thinking and eating, I moved on, exploring the area, including finding a children's festival in progress, and the little observatory I'd noticed from the Acropolis hill. Then it was time to return home, before people started worrying about me, since I'd been away for 4 hours at this point. But having time to relax and reflect has helped me to deal with socializing again, and prepared me more mentally for the second week here in Athens.

By my school's way of counting, today was the end of first week. But, because I'm on study abroad and every one week is like 3-4, in order to cram three quarters into one... I have no idea where I'm at, school-calendar-wise. However, I know for sure that I've finished my first week of classes, and gotten into a rhythm here in Athens... which will promptly be ruined by the fact that I have next Monday off entirely, next Tuesday morning off, and then leave on Wednesday for a three-day trip to the Argolid. Also, as a head's up, I have no clue what my Internet capabilities, or my time to blog, will be like during that trip, so you may not hear from me between Tuesday and Friday. I promise I won't be dead... but if you don't see a huge post from me by Sunday after the trip, start making inquiries into my livelihood.

Anyway, today was the first of two trips to the Acropolis Museum, which has to be one of the most gorgeous museums I've ever been to (and I have been to a lot of museums; I'd list them for you, but then you'll get bored and leave). There was no photography inside the museum, so I can't show you much, but the outside looked like this:


The top level of the building is at an angle to the rest for more than just architecturally looking cool. It's actually set up so that the artifacts inside perfectly line up with their orientation in situ on the Parthenon, which the top level is aligned with. On the lower levels, they're set up to line up with their respective other buildings on the Acropolis. It's really very, very well thought out.
And, even cooler, is this:


This museum is actually built over an neighborhood of ancient Athens, which is really, really neat. There are glass panels in the floor so that you can look down and see the site below you, as you explore the artifacts found around the Acropolis. The range of ages, too, is amazing. Even after just a week, I started to get into a mindset of "There's super old stuff (ruins), then there's sort of old stuff (old churches), then there's new stuff (anything modern)". But it isn't that simple: there's a good 3000 years or so of history on the Acropolis, which can be divided up into couple hundred year or less chunks of time. Intellectually, I know that's true: I mean, that's what we talk about in lecture, is each of these bits of time and their significance individually and in a larger whole, but that doesn't tend to stick with me very well. I'm used to thinking of time on a much larger scale, millions and billions of years rather than hundreds and thousands, so without anything concrete, it just blurs together. Seeing it concrete like this, however, and being able to see the distinctions that allow historians and archaeologists to break up the time, just like geologists break up time by changes in the climate or landscape or fossil record, makes it so much more real. Seeing these sites and artifacts in the round allows me break out of the mindset of "new, old, and ancient."