Greek Somersault

December 22, 2017

The first time I imagined Athens I was reading Sophie’s World. I was Sophie. I was transported to Athens during socratic times and I loved every bit of it. Gaardner was a genius to me at 15.

Standing by Melina Mercouri’s statue I thought of all the times my mom said my sister was named after her for her work in the Greek parliament and the ministry of culture. From there, I looked up to the acropolis and felt again transported - The ancient hill, the city expanding, the birth and demise of western wisdom’s cradle.

Athens seen from the Acropolis

There was coffee, as always (a fantastic Burundi at Taylor-Made at that), and jazz and flea markets with old numismatic collections with my frolicking around to pick some. There was breathtaking scenery up by the funicular with timeworn advertisement for some alcoholic beverage. Of course there was Zorba dancing. There was souvlaki and seas. But most importantly, there were stars.

Navigating in the middle of the ocean, at the meeting of the Aegean and the Mediterranean, I would go up to deck 10 at night to find the Science Reactors, a group of geeks that were on my ship. And from there we would use the shaking telescope with all the lights covered in black to see the stars. Mythology met Science, they fell in love and starry nights are their progeny.

Cassiopeia is my favorite constellation. It’s not its glorious inverted W-shape but rather, the tortoise that appeared in one of my favorite novels I read for high school, Momo. Cassiopeia, the tortoise, could write on her shell and see the future (30 minutes ahead). It was the Men in Grey they were fighting, Momo, this little girl, Cassiopeia and Guido. Momo was a mirror; a listener to help you arrive to conclusions and Cassiopeia was the perfect sidekick.

Cassiopeia, there is such a beautiful ring to it when you say it out loud. Cassiopeia. There, by the horizon line she was, as the queen of Aethopia and mother to Andromeda, named by Ptolemy in the olden times and part of the initial 44 constellations identified during the Greek apogee.

What a delight to spend the nights stargazing with the full arch of the milky way embracing me.

Daytimes had me awestruck as well. The combination of looking at the landscape and closing my eyes to fill the gaps of what is now gone- The Colossus of Rhodes looking down the natural port by Lindos. With the same crown that bowed every time I took the Staten Island Ferry- ‘Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp’ – well, I had no clue of what I was missing to see and imagine.