 Day
Two: We
had booked a trip the day before to the nearby island of Delos--a half
hour ride across the Aegean. For almost 1,000 years, Delos was the
center of religion and political life in the Aegean. Greek mythology explains
why this tiny island rose to such religious importance. The great Zeus
fell in love with the gentle Leto and she became pregnant. When Hera,
Zeus’s wife, discovered this infidelity, she forbade Mother Earth to give
Leto refuge and ordered the serpent Python to pursue her. Leto wandered
the earth, and finally Poseidon, taking pity on her, anchored the floating
island of Delos with four diamond columns to give her a place to rest.
She gave birth first to Artemis, goddess of the hunt and virginity, and
nine days later, to Apollo, god of truth and light. In gratitude
for this place of refuge, Leto promised to make the island Apollo’s seat
of worship.
The sacred heart of the Cyclades, this tiny island’s population actually
reached 20,000 at its peak, but because of its sacred status, no one could
be born or die on the island. (Delians facing either of these were
shipped off to the nearby little islet of Rheneia when the time was thought
to be near.) At one time Delos was the political and trade center of the
Aegean League of Islands, thus sparking the interest of Athens and beginning
three centuries of struggle between the Delians and the Athenians for control.
During these years, the Athenians ordered at least two “purifications” of
the island, forcing the entire population of Delos to move to Asia Minor.
Delos prospered until the second century BCE, when the Romans conquered
the area and made the island the location for the slave market, selling
as many as 10,000 slaves on any given day. Foreigners from as far
away as Syria, Rome and Egypt lived in this cosmopolitan port, in complete
tolerance of one another’s beliefs. In 88 BC, the king of Pontus,
in a revolt against Roman rule, ordered an attack on the island, killing
or enslaving the entire population of 20,000. Delos never fully recovered,
and later Roman attempts to revive the island failed because of pirate
raids. By the second century AD, after successive sackings, the island
was left virtually uninhabited, although under Turkish occupation it became
a pirate’s haunt. On the tour we visited the house of Apollo,
where there is an incredibly well preserved floor mosaic, and the house
of Cleopatra, a wealthy and influential woman merchant—not of the Egypt
fame. We saw the old aqueduct and plumbing system that was used to
support a population as large as 20,000, and sat in the seats of the islands
5,000-capacity amphitheatre. (It was neat to think that I was sitting
where ancient Greeks sat 2,200 years ago.) We also walked along the
“sacred way”, the avenue of the lions, and through the island’s old marketplace. |
The first Cycladic island we arrived at was Siros. Once I caught
a glimpse of the stunning skyline from my seat inside the ferry, I ran
to the deck with my camera. It looked unreal, almost like a cardboard
cut out—full of neoclassical architecture with a unique Mediterranean cube-shaped
characteristic. The second island, Tinos, was equally impressive, although
a bit less colorful. Neither, however, compared to Mykonos, our third
stop and home for the next few days. From the boat we saw an endless
maze of whitewashed cube-shaped houses and churches, with dashes of sky-blue
on the doors and domes, all huddled together up the central hill.
As we got closer to the shore, the little white houses and churches, the
colorful little fishing boats in the harbor, the waves lapping on the shore…it
all seemed to be straight out of an elaborately staged Broadway show—just
too picturesque to be real!
Mykonos is truly fantastic. One of the smallest of the Cycladic group,
it is only 10 miles long and 7 miles wide. An ancient myth says that the
rocks strewn across its barren landscape are the solidified remains of
the giants slain by Hercules. Walking around the small town was truly
an experience, and we got lost in the labyrinth of streets quite often.
I had read on the ferry that the confusing layout was designed to foil
attacking pirates, but at the time it sounded more like a tourism pitch
than reality. It wasn’t until we spent hours traipsing through the
endless maze of near-identical little alleys that I began to see how effective
this plan may have been. The island was indeed terrorized by the marauding pirates for generations until, after years of pirate raids and chaos, the
island eventually fell under Turkish rule (1537), and the Ottomans allowed
the islanders to arm their vessels against the pirates. Unfortunately,
this had a contradictory effect, as many of them found that raiding other
islands was more profitable than tilling arid land! At the height
of the Aegean piracy, Mykonos actually became the principal headquarters
of the corsair fleets—the place where pirates met their fellows, found
willing women, and filled out their crews. I couldn’t help but hum
“yo-ho-ho-ho, a pirates life for me” as I walked through the maze of streets. 
Mykonoits claim that there are exactly 365 churches and chapels dotting
their landscape, one for each day of the year. Little one-room churches
are everywhere! The most famous is the Church of Paraportiani—a whitewashed
conglomeration of four chapels, described as “a confectioners dream gone
mad.” With its uneven walls and crooked roofs, it looks like a giant
blob of white icing! We also visited the famous Mykonos windmills—echoes
of a time when wind power was used to grind the island’s grain. On
an island as windy as this one, smack in the middle of the Aegean Sea,
these mills must have been very effective in generating power! They
are no longer used, but their white bases and blue vanes are a beautiful
addition to the landscape. A bit further down toward the town center we
came across an area known as Little Venice, where early ship captains built
distinguished houses directly on the sea—complete with colorful wooden
balconies overlooking the water. We also stopped into the Aegean
Maritime Museum, a charming little museum that houses a collection of model
ships, navigational instruments, old maps, prints, coins, and nautical
memorabilia. It was a fantastic day at an incredible location, and
the strong sea wind made the warm temperatures just perfect.
We headed back to our hotel for an incredibly good dinner—the best food
I have had yet in Europe. It was the perfect ending to a fantastic day,
and we headed back to our rooms to get some much needed rest. We
weren’t there for long, however, before we heard people yelling outside
our hotel room, and went out to see that they had discovered a TARANTULA
on the wall! A TARANTULA! I couldn’t believe my eyes—I even
took a picture to prove it to everyone back home. A hotel employee was
summoned to exterminate the creature, and as if it were nothing more than
a ladybug, he wrapped a cloth around his had and smashed the TARANTULA
with one hard punch. A TARANTULA. The fact that he wasn’t afraid
of it made me uneasy—that must mean he sees them all the time. Killing
TARANTULAS is just old-hat for him. I didn’t sleep well that night. Arachnophobia—gotta kick it!
After a few hours, we took the ferry back to Mykonos. The ride back
was sooooo rough, and I quickly realized why the Aegean Sea has such a
reputation. I almost felt as if I was on an amusement park ride (minus
the fun) because we were rocking so far and at such a fast speed.
Everyone was gripping the rails for dear life, and I notice a few of the
passengers had gotten sick. I did notice that one of the three crew
members was very drunk—comforting! After our trip, we wandered down
the narrow streets. Tourism seems to be threatening the charm of this place—we
saw Haggen Daz stores and the Body Shop and a slew of other international
businesses. I doubt that McDonalds will ever set up shop here though
since every building by law has to be built in the cube style, with whitewashed
walls and limited splashes of blue, yellow or red. However, I couldn’t
help but wonder what this place will be like the next time I visit.
One highlight of the afternoon’s wanders was spotting the town mascot,
Petros the Pelican. I had read about him in the guidebook and hoped
to find him somewhere. Apparently, in the 1950s a group of migrating
pelicans passed over Mykonos, leaving behind one exhausted bird.
A fisherman nursed it back to health, and it never left. Locals say
that the pelican in the harbor is the original Petros. Chances are
it is his successor, enjoying the spotlight and carrying on the tradition.
Regardless, I was glad to see it.