May 28, 2006
Semana Santa and El Dia de la Cruz Holidays
Semana Santa is Easter Week in Spain. The day after we returned from Greece we went to the Alhambra to see one church's procession. The way it works is that churches from all over Granada, Seville, Malaga and some other Andalusian cities have these processions during Semana Santa. Sometimes there are several in one day. Churches have anywhere from dozens to hundreds of parishoners participating. The main event is preceded by various church members dressed in traditional costumes parading solemnly through the streets. This particular procession was emerging from the gates of the Alhambra which was particularly poignant because the Mulslims/Moors had occupied (and built) the Alhambra for hundreds of years till Queen Isabella (La Catolica) kicked them out. Here we saw all these Catholics parading out of the Arab archway leading to what had been the last stronghold of the Muslims.Anyway, we stood in the hot afternoon sun with a thousand other people waiting and waiting for the procession to start. Of course they were about an hour off schedule, but not one person left. Everyone knew their patience would be rewarded. Finally, the procession began. So many different outfits: the women with their black veils and big hair combs, the men in their pointy hats (definitely NOT KKK, but uncomfortably similar dress whose roots are in the Spanish Inquisition), children in robes carrying enormous candles, more men in funny Shakespearean-looking hats, a few guys in suits (much more boring than the guys in tights) and finally what we had been waiting for...the "float" of Mary and Jesus. All the churches have these enormous, gilded, carved wood figures seated on thrones adorned with flowers and gold decorations. Interestingly enough, the Semana Santa procession is so important for a lot of people here that they actually PAY money to be the ones to carry the 2 ton float!
The second photo, too is of the Semana Santa procession. The hundreds of people from this particular church began in the Alhambra Palace and walked about mile down to Plaza Nueva where thousands more onlookers waited eagerly to see the Virgin and her son and the wonderful marching band that followed the float celebrating the whole resurrection and all that it means. They're not really into the Easter Bunny here. I guess you can't compete with the big dogs in a Catholic country like Spain. In fact, all week the Spanish folks in Andalucia spend their evenings watching these processionals and "celebrating" their Catholicism. For some it's the only time they do it, for others it's their way of life. Muy interesante.
This is Wynne (far right) and some of her classmates in their traditional flamenco outfits for the El Dia de la Cruz celebration at school. The jean jacket is NOT traditional but is an expression of Wynne's own personal flare for fashion (note the pink glitter shoes and scarf tied stylishly around her waist). Celebrated on May 3, this day is when big crosses are erected in many plazas throughout the city and decorated with flowers. Then people from the neighborhood come out in their outfits (or whatever they have on) and dance and celebrate The Day of the Cross. After asking several people and looking in some books to find out what its significance is, I hate to say it, but I don't know that there is anything specific or historic or symbolic these folks are celebrating. Honestly, the Andalusians are famous for their ability to party. I think that's what they are really celebrating! 
Our family trying to look as Spanish as it gets. Our wonderful neighbor, Genoveva, used to be in a flamenco dance troupe with her husband, hence the dresses for me and Lydia and hats for Mark and Reed. She made both of the dresses Lydia and I are wearing for her daughter and herself! Wynne is sporting a flamenco dress of her own, complete with facepaint. Lydia's dress probably weighs close to 5 pounds and is made of lace and ribbons. We had a great time dressing up, but somehow could not bring our non-native selves to wear these outfits beyond our back yard, with the exception of Wynne who would wear hers everywhere if only it didn't have to get washed!
Here is a picture of the plaza near our house with the decorated cross in the background and our friends (Alina, Tony and Sandra) and kids dancing in the foreground. The rain was a slight deterrant, but nevertheless did not keep us from celebrating El Dia de la Cruz. Reed is not exactly "dancing", but participating as a clapper. In flamenco dance there are often people whose job it is to clap along with the music. There are others who sing and others who play guitar or drums while the dancers do their thing. While Reed can really "cut up the rug", he does enjoy the clapping bit and is really good at it, too!
As the fiesta evolved the lights went on and the celebration grew. I love this photo for the action and ambiance of the night time fiesta. A temporary "bar" usually goes up in the plaza along with the cross serving sandwiches, sodas and beer. Along with the drinks one gets a tapas of these bean things and the fat of the jamon (of course). I was enjoying my beans when Sandra said, "Did you eat the whole thing? You're not supposed to eat that furry skin part. Just the insides, Mary." Oops. I was reminded of my Yiayia after arriving from Greece (in a train en route from NY to Ohio), who ate the entire banana in her box lunch--peel and all. While I don't think it's genetic to be inclined to eat peels, I can certainly empathize when a foreigner can't quite figure out how you're supposed to eat pineapples and watermelon!
May 23, 2006
Destination: Greece-the search for family, feta and fun!
Okay, first you've got to know that we probably have over 300 photos of our trip to Greece. You're welcome for not putting them all on the blog. I've tried to make some effort to pick out some that are most representative of the beautiful country, the unique culture and our experience there. We went for 10 days in the beginning of April (I know, it's taken me long enough to post this!). One of our goals this year was to go to Greece, the land of my ancestors and mythology and a country my dad never had a chance to visit. Another was to eat as many olives as possible.
Photo 1: Our kids in front of the Parthenon on the Acropolis in Athens. The Parthenon was immense and awe-inspiring, but under heavy restoration as acid rain and previous battles with other enemies have deteriorated so much of its original splendor. Something we didn't expect: there are "lifeguards" posted all over the Acropolis, fully armed with walkie talkies and whistles. If you step off the paths and onto the forbidden zones they whistle at you and tell you to move back to the proper zone for tourists. I was not whistled at, mind you. Curiously I was a little disappointed--much like when the liquor store cashier back home neglects to ask me for my i.d. Besides the Acropolis we saw lots of museums (folklore, children's art, Greek Art, archeology, you name it). The city has wonderful gardens, beautiful neo-classical architecture, ancient ruins and terrific shopping in chic boutiques, flea markets and stylish stores. Highlights were definitely the Acropolis and the Monastraki (see below). One special place we went was to the Lalounis Jewelry Museum and had lunch in their patio! Athens was a fun place for everyone, but 3 days was plenty as we were ready to get to the mountains and beaches in search of our relatives!
Photo 2: Another Athens shot--A Greek Orthodox priest shopping for icons in the super-duper tourist-trappy souvenir-crappy maze called the Monastraki ( I think that word must come from the Greek word for monastery). The priests were everywhere. They were driving cars, eating in restaurants, buying shtuff, whatever. Somehow we thought with their long robes and even longer beards and funny hats that they should be in some isolated, solemn tower high up in the mountains trying to save our souls, but instead they were in the streets doing exactly what the rest of the world does in Greece.
Photo 3: It ceases to amaze me how these guys in their tiny kiosks can have such a small amount of space and jam everything in the world into it and (a) not get their stuff stolen out from under their noses and (b) not die of chlostrophobia. Traveler tip: if you need anything from a cell phone card to a cigar to a chocolate croissant to worry beads, these kiosk guys have it for you. If you don't see it, just ask.
Photo 4: The changing of the guard at the Parliament Building and the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. Cool uniforms. Even cooler purpose. The crowd was passionate and respectful. It was a very moving experience to see these young soldiers paying respect to the fallen soldiers who fought in the wars. I'm sure there were folks in the crowd who had family members who fought in WWII or the Civil War in the 1940s that left hundreds of thousands homeless and the nation in tatters. Pretty intense.
Photo 5: We went on a one day cruise of the islands of Porous, Hydra and Aegina. On Hydra we felt like a little snack, but opted to wait for lunch on the boat rather than the local fare of octopus fresh from the clothesline!
Photo 6: Here are the nice men and boats that presumably catch the octopus.
Photo 7: On Hydra there are no cars. Locals ride bikes and donkeys. Seeing Reed, Wynne and Mark wasn't quite the same as the stories of Yiayia and her donkey, but gave us a nice little tour of the village with its narrow cobblestone streets, whitewashed buildings, wildflowers and blue accents everywhere.
Photo 8: So, you know, the big deal about going to Greece was to go to the village of my grandmother. Well, here it is! How cool is that? She used to come down from her mountain village (Agios Vasilios) with her father and the herd (goats) for the summer. It was really neat to imagine Yiayia and great grand-papouli walking through the fields and streets where I was with my family! As I stood there taking it all in I only wished my dad could've seen it! Monemvasia is a huge rock (like Gibrlatar, but no border patrol here) across a causeway from the mainland in the Peloponese region. On the other side of the dramatic rock is the actual village which was created in the 6th century when barbarian incursions forced locals to the rock. Eventually in the 13th century, Monemvasia the commercial center for Byzantine Morea. Its current population is in the hundreds. Though there are 40 churches in the village! I asked one woman what that was all about. She said, "One church for every family."
Photo 9: Here is a shot of the "streets" of Monemvasia. Much like Spain, there are no street signs as we, Americans, know them. But no problem because if you get lost it will take you a maximum of 7 minutes to walk to the other end of the villlage and cover every nook and cranny in between. There are a bunch of hotels, tavernas, and shops in addition to the churches. In fact, people ACTUALLY live there, too! Just like in the old days! Apparently there was a period when only the folks who couldn't afford to live elsewhere found themselves in Monemvasia. Nowadays property owners have restored and rehabilitated much of the village with integrity and pride for the original style, materials and architecture of the old village. It is gorgeous and tranquil.
Photo 10: Here is a picture or the village as seen from up on the rock. Notice how you can't see any "streets" just rooftops and churches.
Photo 11: Here are the Thermoyiannis cousins. Stavros, in the checked shirt, got a phone call the day before from this restaurateur we befriended in the village. I told her about Yiayia and my desire to meet some of her cousins (my cousins). She said, "I know them. Let me call one and tell them you're here." Sure enough, 30 minutes later, Stavros showed up at the restaurant! We were quite a sight because he didn't speak a lick of English and all I can say in Greek are phrases related to the greetings you use during holidays, weddings and funerals. Anyway, with the help of our waiter, we chatted and arranged to get together the next day with more family and hopefully someone who spoke English and Greek! So, here's who showed up. For all you Greeks reading out there, here are the names: Nikos(Yiayia's 1st cousin), Margarita, Thermistacles, Katina, Anastasia, Elias, Me(Mary), Elena, Stavros(Yiayia's 1st cousin), and Mark. They said they were sorry that everyone couldn't come, but one of Stavros' brothers had died the week before and his widow and some others were still in mourning. What a reunion this was, though. Only the 16 year old, Thermistacles, could speak a little English. Nevermind that, we had a great time. I showed them a copy of the family newsletter, The Honeybee, and they showed me photo albums. I was in heaven. They tried to sort out who I was to them and if it was my Yiayia or my Papouli who lived in Monemvasia, Agios Vasilios and Paliohori. Anyway, I met my grandparents cousins and their children and their children. We were all cousins, hanging out, getting to know each other. They could not have been nicer. Needless to say we can't wait to go back!
Photo 12: This is on our way from Monemvasia north to Nafplio. We drove through the mountains by the villages of Paliohori and Agios Vasilios--the villages where Papoouli and Yiayia were from (respectively). Originally we wanted to go to the villages, but given the long, winding mountain roads and the pale faces in our back seat we thought it best to take a moment to view them from afar rather than make the trek. If you click on the photo you can see one village (Paliohori) to the left and the other to the right (Agios Vasilios). I cannot express to you the thrill it was for me to finally see where my grandparents were from. Growing up, I heard so many stories from Yiayia about her childhood, riding on donkeys, taking care of the goats, living among the wildflowers and the animals of Greece. To actually be there and see the places of so many of her stories was an experience of a lifetime.
Photo 13: This is the Bourtzi Island fortress. Like Spain, Greece is a mediterranean country abundant in war history, castles, defensive fortresses and military relics. It seems that the Greeks were always fighting off the Venetians, Turks or other aggressive brunettes. Nafplio is a great resort-town that was perfect for a visit in April before the Athenians descend upon it for their summer vacations. We found a worry-bead museum, great restaurants, beautiful, old, narrow streets and some great ceramics. It was the last few days of our vacation and between the fortress on the hill, the portside shops, and the museums, we finished our stay with a great time in Nafplio.
Photo 14: On our way to the Athens airport we took a side trip to Epidaurus where there is a well-preserved theater that seats 14,000! It's known for its harmony of design and perfection of acoustics. We sat in the highest seats that were over 2000 years old and could hear Wynne and Lydia in the middle of the stage talking to each other. Very cool.
Finally, this photo is titled, "Mark on sabbatical." Love it.
Photo 1: Our kids in front of the Parthenon on the Acropolis in Athens. The Parthenon was immense and awe-inspiring, but under heavy restoration as acid rain and previous battles with other enemies have deteriorated so much of its original splendor. Something we didn't expect: there are "lifeguards" posted all over the Acropolis, fully armed with walkie talkies and whistles. If you step off the paths and onto the forbidden zones they whistle at you and tell you to move back to the proper zone for tourists. I was not whistled at, mind you. Curiously I was a little disappointed--much like when the liquor store cashier back home neglects to ask me for my i.d. Besides the Acropolis we saw lots of museums (folklore, children's art, Greek Art, archeology, you name it). The city has wonderful gardens, beautiful neo-classical architecture, ancient ruins and terrific shopping in chic boutiques, flea markets and stylish stores. Highlights were definitely the Acropolis and the Monastraki (see below). One special place we went was to the Lalounis Jewelry Museum and had lunch in their patio! Athens was a fun place for everyone, but 3 days was plenty as we were ready to get to the mountains and beaches in search of our relatives!
Photo 2: Another Athens shot--A Greek Orthodox priest shopping for icons in the super-duper tourist-trappy souvenir-crappy maze called the Monastraki ( I think that word must come from the Greek word for monastery). The priests were everywhere. They were driving cars, eating in restaurants, buying shtuff, whatever. Somehow we thought with their long robes and even longer beards and funny hats that they should be in some isolated, solemn tower high up in the mountains trying to save our souls, but instead they were in the streets doing exactly what the rest of the world does in Greece.
Photo 3: It ceases to amaze me how these guys in their tiny kiosks can have such a small amount of space and jam everything in the world into it and (a) not get their stuff stolen out from under their noses and (b) not die of chlostrophobia. Traveler tip: if you need anything from a cell phone card to a cigar to a chocolate croissant to worry beads, these kiosk guys have it for you. If you don't see it, just ask.
Photo 4: The changing of the guard at the Parliament Building and the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. Cool uniforms. Even cooler purpose. The crowd was passionate and respectful. It was a very moving experience to see these young soldiers paying respect to the fallen soldiers who fought in the wars. I'm sure there were folks in the crowd who had family members who fought in WWII or the Civil War in the 1940s that left hundreds of thousands homeless and the nation in tatters. Pretty intense. 
Photo 5: We went on a one day cruise of the islands of Porous, Hydra and Aegina. On Hydra we felt like a little snack, but opted to wait for lunch on the boat rather than the local fare of octopus fresh from the clothesline!
Photo 6: Here are the nice men and boats that presumably catch the octopus.
Photo 7: On Hydra there are no cars. Locals ride bikes and donkeys. Seeing Reed, Wynne and Mark wasn't quite the same as the stories of Yiayia and her donkey, but gave us a nice little tour of the village with its narrow cobblestone streets, whitewashed buildings, wildflowers and blue accents everywhere.
Photo 8: So, you know, the big deal about going to Greece was to go to the village of my grandmother. Well, here it is! How cool is that? She used to come down from her mountain village (Agios Vasilios) with her father and the herd (goats) for the summer. It was really neat to imagine Yiayia and great grand-papouli walking through the fields and streets where I was with my family! As I stood there taking it all in I only wished my dad could've seen it! Monemvasia is a huge rock (like Gibrlatar, but no border patrol here) across a causeway from the mainland in the Peloponese region. On the other side of the dramatic rock is the actual village which was created in the 6th century when barbarian incursions forced locals to the rock. Eventually in the 13th century, Monemvasia the commercial center for Byzantine Morea. Its current population is in the hundreds. Though there are 40 churches in the village! I asked one woman what that was all about. She said, "One church for every family."
Photo 9: Here is a shot of the "streets" of Monemvasia. Much like Spain, there are no street signs as we, Americans, know them. But no problem because if you get lost it will take you a maximum of 7 minutes to walk to the other end of the villlage and cover every nook and cranny in between. There are a bunch of hotels, tavernas, and shops in addition to the churches. In fact, people ACTUALLY live there, too! Just like in the old days! Apparently there was a period when only the folks who couldn't afford to live elsewhere found themselves in Monemvasia. Nowadays property owners have restored and rehabilitated much of the village with integrity and pride for the original style, materials and architecture of the old village. It is gorgeous and tranquil. 
Photo 10: Here is a picture or the village as seen from up on the rock. Notice how you can't see any "streets" just rooftops and churches.
Photo 11: Here are the Thermoyiannis cousins. Stavros, in the checked shirt, got a phone call the day before from this restaurateur we befriended in the village. I told her about Yiayia and my desire to meet some of her cousins (my cousins). She said, "I know them. Let me call one and tell them you're here." Sure enough, 30 minutes later, Stavros showed up at the restaurant! We were quite a sight because he didn't speak a lick of English and all I can say in Greek are phrases related to the greetings you use during holidays, weddings and funerals. Anyway, with the help of our waiter, we chatted and arranged to get together the next day with more family and hopefully someone who spoke English and Greek! So, here's who showed up. For all you Greeks reading out there, here are the names: Nikos(Yiayia's 1st cousin), Margarita, Thermistacles, Katina, Anastasia, Elias, Me(Mary), Elena, Stavros(Yiayia's 1st cousin), and Mark. They said they were sorry that everyone couldn't come, but one of Stavros' brothers had died the week before and his widow and some others were still in mourning. What a reunion this was, though. Only the 16 year old, Thermistacles, could speak a little English. Nevermind that, we had a great time. I showed them a copy of the family newsletter, The Honeybee, and they showed me photo albums. I was in heaven. They tried to sort out who I was to them and if it was my Yiayia or my Papouli who lived in Monemvasia, Agios Vasilios and Paliohori. Anyway, I met my grandparents cousins and their children and their children. We were all cousins, hanging out, getting to know each other. They could not have been nicer. Needless to say we can't wait to go back!
Photo 12: This is on our way from Monemvasia north to Nafplio. We drove through the mountains by the villages of Paliohori and Agios Vasilios--the villages where Papoouli and Yiayia were from (respectively). Originally we wanted to go to the villages, but given the long, winding mountain roads and the pale faces in our back seat we thought it best to take a moment to view them from afar rather than make the trek. If you click on the photo you can see one village (Paliohori) to the left and the other to the right (Agios Vasilios). I cannot express to you the thrill it was for me to finally see where my grandparents were from. Growing up, I heard so many stories from Yiayia about her childhood, riding on donkeys, taking care of the goats, living among the wildflowers and the animals of Greece. To actually be there and see the places of so many of her stories was an experience of a lifetime. 
Photo 13: This is the Bourtzi Island fortress. Like Spain, Greece is a mediterranean country abundant in war history, castles, defensive fortresses and military relics. It seems that the Greeks were always fighting off the Venetians, Turks or other aggressive brunettes. Nafplio is a great resort-town that was perfect for a visit in April before the Athenians descend upon it for their summer vacations. We found a worry-bead museum, great restaurants, beautiful, old, narrow streets and some great ceramics. It was the last few days of our vacation and between the fortress on the hill, the portside shops, and the museums, we finished our stay with a great time in Nafplio. 
Photo 14: On our way to the Athens airport we took a side trip to Epidaurus where there is a well-preserved theater that seats 14,000! It's known for its harmony of design and perfection of acoustics. We sat in the highest seats that were over 2000 years old and could hear Wynne and Lydia in the middle of the stage talking to each other. Very cool.
Finally, this photo is titled, "Mark on sabbatical." Love it.