Category Archives: history

A city of colorful layers.

history, travel, , , ,

After arriving by plane in Thessaloniki last Saturday, I took a taxi into the central part of the city and my hotel. As we passed between high rise buildings in thick traffic, I was a little dismayed, after the quiet pace of island life, at how much a city it is. I said to the driver, “It’s big, isn’t it? The second largest city after Athens?” He said no, it’s small actually, and he tried to communicate to me how everything is right here and close by, it’s compact.

I am so thankful that in Thessaloniki I’ve been able to keep up with all the walking that enables me to stay literally on the ground and feeling intimate with the place, more than if I had to take a bus or taxi to visit all the places I want to see, or to meet up with friends.

Arch of Galerius

Monday when I didn’t have definite plans until the evening, I walked 15 minutes or so to St. Demetrios Church, and after spending a while there I took a different route back to my hotel, and came upon the Arch of Galerius, and a bit farther toward the sea the ruins of the palace of Galerius, who was the Roman emperor from 305-311 A.D.

I could see up the hill the tower that remains from the ancient wall that once surrounded Thessaloniki, the lower portions dating from before Christ. It was in the 3rd century B.C. that Cassander, the Macedonian king and contemporary of Alexander the Great, first fortified the city.

The map above (In French) shows the area of the city that lay within the old walls, with color coded monuments that have been preserved from different historical periods.

Except for the day we went out of the city to the monasteries, I’ve walked miles every day, back and forth, up slope and down, but only yesterday did I meet my guide Maria at the very top of the city, in the old town, to see one remnant of that old, old, many-layered wall. Byzantine era expansions re-used materials from the earliest structures; I could stare a long time imagining all the people through the ages who laid the bricks and stones, or who lived day to day with the walls framing their community.

From the high part of the city we descended in a leisurely fashion visiting Vlatadon Monastery and other churches on the way. I must tell you more about that later — it’s time now for more walking and exploration.

Strolling by the sea.

history, time, travel, , , , , , ,
Izmir, Internet photo

Long, long ago, I lived in Turkey for most of a summer as an exchange student. My host family lived in a house in an older neighborhood of Izmir, the district of Bayraklı. Three years later when I visited them they had scaled up and moved to a high rise apartment at the other end of the city.

The New Waterfront in Thessaloniki

One thing that was the same both times I was there was the custom of strolling along the wide walkway next to the sea that is called the Kordon.

On summer evenings especially it was the place to be, refreshed by the breezes off the Aegean. But at any time of day you might run into friends, or intentionally meet up with them there; it was a simple pleasure for families. Street vendors sold snacks from their carts, such as roasted corn and nuts. As the sun was setting we’d buy a cup of the pudding-like warm drink called salep.

Thessaloniki

Over the years since I have often thought about how that city had so wisely made the most of its setting for the health and prosperity of its inhabitants.

I saw in advance that Thessaloniki had a similar recreational strip, called The New Waterfront, and last night I walked there for an hour.

I learned this morning when looking for a picture of Izmir’s promenade that some people have called these two “twin cities,” because of various historical and demographic aspects they share, besides their seaside location and pleasing waterside parks. Wouldn’t it be fun to spend time in both cities for a year or two while researching and writing a book comparing the two? Hmm… I should have thought of that about twenty years ago, but I suppose I was busy with something else.

Alexander the Great

Well, it felt very strange and dreamy to wander along that walkway last night, like going back to a different life in a different place that was somehow the same place, an existence that belonged to a different person. But no, it was me, and it is me. It’s a mystery for sure.

Thorny and Byzantine

agriculture, family, history, travel, , , , , , , , ,
In Lefkes

The skies had cleared and the wind was still blowing when we set off for the high country of Paros, on our first whole day here. In the village of Prodromos signs for Public Parking led us to a dirt lot, and the bus stop a short walk from there, where we hoped to catch a bus up to the town of Lefkes.

We could make out from the roadside sign, conveniently right outside a bakery, that our bus would not arrive for another hour and a half, so we did a little shopping —yes, including of pastries — and found a taverna where we could have an unfortunately quick lunch in the meantime.

The only other people in the restaurant were five older Greek men in a traditional and more relaxed midday gathering, for whom the five of us chatting and laughing over our menus clearly provided an interesting diversion; they couldn’t stop watching us. We petted the cat while waiting for our orders, and kept an eye on the time so we wouldn’t miss the one bus that we needed.

At every restaurant in Greece so far we’ve found that restaurant wait staff are reluctant to bring the check, which applies a gentle pressure to linger, and enjoy to the max the great food and ambiance. We felt ourselves to be rude and unappreciative of the chance to experience a village taverna complete with cat, and old men gossiping over their coffee.

We even had to leave an entire kebab untouched, but I stuffed the extra bread in my shoulder bag to take along, with breakfast toast in mind.

After a quick bus ride up to Lefkes, we strolled through the town, always heading gently downhill, on the Byzantine Trail, a thousand year old road that is by modern standards a path between Lefkes and Prodromos. The huge 19th century Agia Triada church that was built of local marble we found closed; reportedly services are held morning and evening every day.

Lefkes, Internet photo

The trail soon left the town and wound on down the hill, with views on all sides of ancient terraces built of stones pulled from the earth that is rich with them, and naturally poor from the stoniness. A few of the thousands of plots are evidently being used again, though tourism has supplanted agriculture in the island economy.

Barley

It is easy to imagine the farmers in the old days growing fava beans and keeping goats on those terraces. We did pass one old man keeping watch over his goats that very afternoon.

Pippin and I kept lagging behind the others to investigate all the strange or familiar plants along the path, which included at least a dozen species of prickly types.

Common Golden Thistle

There was even a beautiful but thorny type of acanthus, which it took me a few sightings in different stages of its flowering to recognize as being related to the majestic version in its glory right now, back home in my garden.

Acanthus

I was so happy to be wearing my new hiking boots that kept me comfortable and mostly steady on the road that was sometimes dirt, sometimes roughly rocky and uneven, and often paved with wide and flat marble that had been polished smooth over the centuries.

Phoenician Juniper

The ubiquitous cats greeted us on the Byzantine Road, begging attention, which at least a couple of us were happy to give.

I was in my element, under the warm sun, so many interesting plants to see, with my favorite botanist partner and in the company of other family favorites, getting good exercise among terraced hills — it all was so healthy and alive that I could forgive the wind that tangled my hair, and the thistles that grabbed at my legs.

Yellow Spine Thistle

I hadn’t known ahead of time just how much of a nature walk this trail was going to be, and I couldn’t get over my good fortune at being the recipient of this blessing, accomplished through the labors of my girls, from Kate who was willing to drive to Maggie who buys us pastries.

Eventually our walking trail brought us back to our car in Prodromos, and we returned to our house across the island. At the end of the day we had walked more than five miles, and we all slept very well that night under Aegean skies.

Kissing in Vietnamese

history, poetry, ,

KISSING IN VIETNAMESE

My grandmother kisses
as if bombs are bursting in the backyard,
where mint and jasmine lace their perfumes
through the kitchen window,
as if somewhere, a body is falling apart
and flames are making their way back
through the intricacies of a young boy’s thigh,
as if to walk out the door, your torso
would dance from exit wounds.
When my grandmother kisses, there would be
no flashy smooching, no western music
of pursed lips, she kisses as if to breathe
you inside her, nose pressed to cheek
so that your scent is relearned
and your sweat pearls into drops of gold
inside her lungs, as if while she holds you
death also, is clutching your wrist.
My grandmother kisses as if history
never ended, as if somewhere
a body is still
falling apart.

-Ocean Vuong

The author with his mother and aunt.