Corinth (Greece, day fourteen)
Aug. 25th, 2011 06:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hawkwing_lbAs you may have noticed from the post title, I'm no longer in Athens.
Let us all note for the record that I don't like travelling to strange new places of uncertain welcome by public transport in countries in whose language I have approximately the vocabulary of a not-particularly-bright four-year-old. It gives me hives.
But this morning I packed my travel-bag, left the rest of my luggage in T.'s office, said good-bye to T. and K. at the institute - who were also departing this afternoon (they're herding the study tour to Delphi and parts south) - walked down 28 Oktobriou to Omonia, and caught the 051 bus to Bus Terminal A.
Bus Terminal A in Athens is what other, lesser bus stations dream of being when they grow up. A cavernous space filled with the growling of engines, the stink of diesel fuel and cigarettes, and the busy hum of to-ings and fro-ings, it has a definite impression of largeness.
The Korinthos bus boasted an Orthodox priest among its passengers. I have to say, he seemed a bit full of his own dignity. But, anyway. Moving on.
The bus journey took under two hours, partly along a motorway and partly through a couple of townships on the Saronic Gulf. Pretty countryside, between the mountains and the blue blue sea - apart from the oil refineries and the dockyard at Eleusina, which are industrial ugliness. On route, I learned the word for Stop now! - one of the passengers needed to vomit.
We crossed the canal on the isthmus, which is a freaking miracle of engineering - a sheer straight cleft in high rock, from sea to sea - and arrived in Corinth.
This is where my adventures really began. You see, the ASCSA has their research project and house out in Archaio Corinth, several kilometres from Korinthos itself. The nice lady at the bus station took pity on my atrocious Greek, put me bodily on the right bus across town, and made sure the bus to Old Corinth would wait five minutes for me at the other bus station. I did not shake with uncontrollable anxiety during this interlude, but only because I will not freak out became my mantra from the moment the Athens bus passed the canal.
The bus for Old Corinth winds up towards the old town - not a town in these decayed modern days, of course - under the dominating prominence of the Acrocorinth, peak and fortress both at once. This takes perhaps half an hour, up roads so narrow that vehicles must back up if they meet oncoming traffic.
At the archaeological site of Old Corinth, I asked the Official Ticket Lady for the Americans, and she pointed me to their house across the road. Both gates proved locked, but there was room on one to reach in between the bars and draw back the lock, since there seemed to be no button for attention. So I did so, and walked in the open front door.
An elderly gentleman whose name I didn't catch pointed me to Dr. G.S.'s office. I was invited to wait in the kitchen for a few moments, but soon the man himself appeared. Assigned a room and a key, I felt some of my anxiety begin to wane. (I have somewhere to sleep for the night! Shower! Toilet!)
Dr. S. proved both fascinatingly learned and amazingly helpful. In the course of a brief conversation in his air-conditioned office, he introduced me to some interesting pieces of informations about the plant monks' pepper and the cult of Orthia, and then was courteous enough to drive me down to the Asklepieion and give me a guided tour of its little patch of site. (I'm going back to the site tomorrow morning, so I'll talk some more about it then.)
I proceeded to the museum and the main part of the preserved archaeological site, which includes fairly well preserved remains of the Temple of Apollo, as well as the Glauke Fountain - a striking monument - and a jumble of archaeology in the form of a forum and the Lechaion road, which would make more sense to me, I do not doubt, if I'd ever seen a complete site plan.
Above it all, the peak of the Acrocorinth rises to the SW (according to my compass: I need a compass, because the bus journey up here completely screwed with my sense of direction), the crenellations of its fortress walls visible atop a steep mount whose flanks are rock and sere summer grasses. The Acrocorinth is both Antique acropolis and medieval castle site, having been used by the ancients and further fortified by Franks, Venetians and Ottomans.
I showered and, after some confusion, dined with the archaeologists in residence. At which New People anxiety kicked in. They seemed moderately forgiving, and at least there was a Scots boy there, so I didn't feel completely surrounded. But still, New People. Learned New People.
I'm not going to freak out about getting to Argos until Saturday. Meanwhile, I take pictures and make measurements here. (Go away, anxiety. If the worst comes to the absolute worst, we will go stay in a hotel in Nafplio. Maybe we should do that anyway.)
Am I boring the internets with these travel posts, I wonder?
Let us all note for the record that I don't like travelling to strange new places of uncertain welcome by public transport in countries in whose language I have approximately the vocabulary of a not-particularly-bright four-year-old. It gives me hives.
But this morning I packed my travel-bag, left the rest of my luggage in T.'s office, said good-bye to T. and K. at the institute - who were also departing this afternoon (they're herding the study tour to Delphi and parts south) - walked down 28 Oktobriou to Omonia, and caught the 051 bus to Bus Terminal A.
Bus Terminal A in Athens is what other, lesser bus stations dream of being when they grow up. A cavernous space filled with the growling of engines, the stink of diesel fuel and cigarettes, and the busy hum of to-ings and fro-ings, it has a definite impression of largeness.
The Korinthos bus boasted an Orthodox priest among its passengers. I have to say, he seemed a bit full of his own dignity. But, anyway. Moving on.
The bus journey took under two hours, partly along a motorway and partly through a couple of townships on the Saronic Gulf. Pretty countryside, between the mountains and the blue blue sea - apart from the oil refineries and the dockyard at Eleusina, which are industrial ugliness. On route, I learned the word for Stop now! - one of the passengers needed to vomit.
We crossed the canal on the isthmus, which is a freaking miracle of engineering - a sheer straight cleft in high rock, from sea to sea - and arrived in Corinth.
This is where my adventures really began. You see, the ASCSA has their research project and house out in Archaio Corinth, several kilometres from Korinthos itself. The nice lady at the bus station took pity on my atrocious Greek, put me bodily on the right bus across town, and made sure the bus to Old Corinth would wait five minutes for me at the other bus station. I did not shake with uncontrollable anxiety during this interlude, but only because I will not freak out became my mantra from the moment the Athens bus passed the canal.
The bus for Old Corinth winds up towards the old town - not a town in these decayed modern days, of course - under the dominating prominence of the Acrocorinth, peak and fortress both at once. This takes perhaps half an hour, up roads so narrow that vehicles must back up if they meet oncoming traffic.
At the archaeological site of Old Corinth, I asked the Official Ticket Lady for the Americans, and she pointed me to their house across the road. Both gates proved locked, but there was room on one to reach in between the bars and draw back the lock, since there seemed to be no button for attention. So I did so, and walked in the open front door.
An elderly gentleman whose name I didn't catch pointed me to Dr. G.S.'s office. I was invited to wait in the kitchen for a few moments, but soon the man himself appeared. Assigned a room and a key, I felt some of my anxiety begin to wane. (I have somewhere to sleep for the night! Shower! Toilet!)
Dr. S. proved both fascinatingly learned and amazingly helpful. In the course of a brief conversation in his air-conditioned office, he introduced me to some interesting pieces of informations about the plant monks' pepper and the cult of Orthia, and then was courteous enough to drive me down to the Asklepieion and give me a guided tour of its little patch of site. (I'm going back to the site tomorrow morning, so I'll talk some more about it then.)
I proceeded to the museum and the main part of the preserved archaeological site, which includes fairly well preserved remains of the Temple of Apollo, as well as the Glauke Fountain - a striking monument - and a jumble of archaeology in the form of a forum and the Lechaion road, which would make more sense to me, I do not doubt, if I'd ever seen a complete site plan.
Above it all, the peak of the Acrocorinth rises to the SW (according to my compass: I need a compass, because the bus journey up here completely screwed with my sense of direction), the crenellations of its fortress walls visible atop a steep mount whose flanks are rock and sere summer grasses. The Acrocorinth is both Antique acropolis and medieval castle site, having been used by the ancients and further fortified by Franks, Venetians and Ottomans.
I showered and, after some confusion, dined with the archaeologists in residence. At which New People anxiety kicked in. They seemed moderately forgiving, and at least there was a Scots boy there, so I didn't feel completely surrounded. But still, New People. Learned New People.
I'm not going to freak out about getting to Argos until Saturday. Meanwhile, I take pictures and make measurements here. (Go away, anxiety. If the worst comes to the absolute worst, we will go stay in a hotel in Nafplio. Maybe we should do that anyway.)
Am I boring the internets with these travel posts, I wonder?
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no subject
Date: 2011-08-25 08:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-25 09:10 pm (UTC)(I'm not brave, I'm crazy. :P Also, my supervisor would make *sadface* at me if I freaked out and ran home.)
no subject
Date: 2011-08-25 06:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-25 07:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-25 10:44 pm (UTC)My first real trip out of the States was Greece a few years ago, and I went to a number of the places you are. Only I was there for vacation, not something useful like studying.
(I really liked Nafplio. It was my favorite place that I visited, and I wish I'd gotten to spend more time on the Peloponnese.)
no subject
Date: 2011-08-26 09:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-26 03:38 am (UTC)I'm just a teeny bit distracted -- earthquake on Tuesday, hurricane approaching in the next 72 hours, and assorted other items in between..but I am reading!
no subject
Date: 2011-08-26 09:55 am (UTC)...Please tell me you're exaggerating for effect, yes? (No? Be safe, then!)
no subject
Date: 2011-08-26 12:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-26 12:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-26 12:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-26 02:30 pm (UTC)Anyway! Your reports from sunny Greece are just the thing. I could go for some saganaki myself. Hm. Perhaps I should stop by the Greek cafe on my way home.
no subject
Date: 2011-08-26 02:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-26 05:43 am (UTC)"(I have somewhere to sleep for the night! Shower! Toilet!)"
OMG yes. Also, I am of the opinion that this is a very normal feeling - it's not like having the capacity to laugh at lolcats means we don't still worry about things like food and shelter. :p
no subject
Date: 2011-08-26 09:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-26 07:45 am (UTC)And I'm a bit comforted that other people suffer from travel anxiety - I've read so many articles by intrepid travellers that I was starting to think I was the only person in the world who finds going to unknown places utterly nerve-wracking.
no subject
Date: 2011-08-26 10:04 am (UTC)But, yeah. Travelling is freaking scary. But all that time spent falling off walls was apparently good for something other than just collecting bruises. I can actually function at quite high levels of anxiety now. :P
no subject
Date: 2011-08-26 12:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-26 12:57 pm (UTC)*including vicars*
:)
no subject
Date: 2011-08-26 01:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-26 02:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-26 02:53 pm (UTC)went a-viking, with awful care
ministering to lands afar
in Christian charity. Fast cars,
fast ships, faster women (and boys)
all Christendom's most famous toys:
all these deployed for heathen souls.
The mote in God's eye concealed the toll
their striving took. Pocked, ill-kempt, brought low
behind public virtue's over-flowing moat
(rancid, reeking to high heaven)
they staggered home; remember'd: wrote
tell-all memoirs, fought, fucked, sold ovens.
Will all their sins be forgiven, now?