there was an ancient city they called Carthage

[timeripple]

Have not-so-inexplicable urge to read Virgil's Aeneid. Again.

For anybody who's interested,

March 22, 2004
Olympia

There is a mountain near Nauplia and not too far from Mycenae that our guide says is called "Agamemnon". It does look like the profile of a king lying in his funereal glory, hair flowing back and craggy nose pointed toward the sky. Nobody knows for certain whether treachery left his body buried within the citadel walls, or whether he was placed in state in the Treasury of Atreus - but it is fitting to think of the mountain as an embodiment of the ancient king's eternal rest.

The bus passed the king on its way to Tripolis, where we were allowed precisely 45 minutes for souvenir-shopping. Other people bought jewelery in silver Greek key and gold Mycenaean-imitation designs; I finally handed over some Euros for (predictably) a CD of what I hope is traditional Syrtaki dance music.

In Megalopolis, the procedure was similar, albeit 15 minutes shorter in duration. I fear that, Hesiod, Herodotus, and Homer aside, my Greek skills are essentially useless when it comes to reasoning with ATMs.

The road to Olympia consisted mostly of hairpin turns around impressive mountains. The land was woody and stony in turns, all of it beautiful - and hospitable to large white goats. I woke suddenly from an unintended snooze to see two of them ambling placidly down a slope dotted with boulders and scrubby, sturdy trees.

The famed Museum at Olympia being closed for repairs, there was no Praxiteles' Hermes-ogling. We made do with the modern Olympic Games museum instead. I found the Olympic anthem or hymn, and slowly read it under my breath. There was a great deal about contests, of course, and justice and prizes and being worthy; "kai" (and) was also fairly prominent.

Ancient Olympia itself, with its gymnasium ruins and temples to Hera and Zeus, as a wonder indeed. i was surprised by the many beautiful pine and olive trees amid the crumbling stones and grass and dusty, trodden pathways. Standing at the temple foundations, it was difficult in broad daylight to imagine the massive gold-and-ivory statue of Zeus that was accounted one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. I recall staring at an artist's imagined rendition of the statue in an encyclopedia when I was no more than ten years old; it seemed to be bathed in a blue light, and the rest of the temple was only a vague outline without a backdrop. Now I have seen the backdrop, and stood in it and smelled its air, but I cannot reconcile the two.

Leaving Zeus behind, we passed through the single rebuilt arch of what was once a tunnel and into the stadium itself. I stood on the marble starters' blocks, paced across the dusty open space, and stared reverently for a moment at the stone square in the grassy hill which marked the judges' seats. As I left, I saw again the olive trees, oddly symbolic of an ancient spirit that the modern Olympic Games do no quite capture. Perhaps it belonged only to the ancient world, and like those days has passed beyond recall.

Comments

[edajaram.livejournal.com]

I fear that, Hesiod, Herodotus, and Homer aside, my Greek skills are essentially useless when it comes to reasoning with ATMs.

I found the Olympic anthem or hymn, and slowly read it under my breath. There was a great deal about contests, of course, and justice and prizes and being worthy; "kai" (and) was also fairly prominent.

Heh. *is v. amused*

[timeripple.livejournal.com]

Yay! My life is not entirely useless! I amuse my roomie. Oh, the joys of being able to edit before mass consumption!
...

Or, from the looks of it, lack of mass consumption, but that's so not the point.