ISLAND HOPPING

"The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece
Where burning Sappho loved and sung..."
George Noel Gordon, Lord Byron 1788-1824 "Beppo" 1818 st . 86 (song, st. 1)

NAXOS
There's a legend about the abandoned Temple of Apollo, Naxos' famous landmark, that when Istanbul is returned to Greece the temple door will miraculously appear. The incompleted temple that marks the entrance to Naxos' harbour is just one of the many "abandoned" things you'll see on this island, including the gigantic marble Kouros (7th C. BC) at the old marble quarry. In fact, it was on this island that Theseus abandoned Ariadne after she helped him escape from the Cretan labyrinth. Dionysus 'rescued' her and spirited her away. He's the island's favorite deity, the god of wine and ecstacy, and ever since Naxian wine has been considered a good remedy for a broken heart.

I've been to Naxos twice before, both times solo camping, once at St. George's Beach and the second time at Plaka Beach. The second time I went there I was invited to visit with the infamous Hollywoods, a couple of Americans who were part of the Plaka Dirty Corner gang of the '80's. They had bought a bar there called Picasso's Bar and were rebuilding an old house in one of the villages. (I wonder if they are still there. I'll watch out for them lounging around St. George's Beach. )

Naxos is the largest of the Cyclades Island, and the most fertile, producing some of the best potatoes a well as olives, grapes figs, citrus and corn. It was an important Byzantine centre and was once occupied by Venetians so there's a distinctive Venetian influence in the architecture of the old town, Hora.

On my last visit there, I took a round-the-island tour and want to do it again this time. One thing that struck me then were the numbers of abandoned villages, some abandoned due to pirate raids during the Byzantine period and others since the Turkish occupation in the 1500s. There are also scores of stone watch towers along the coast and a 'secret school' where children were taught their Greek heritage and language during the Turkish occupation when it was forbidden. There are many picturesque villages on the island too. The village of Apuranthos is said to be one of the loveliest villages in the Cyclades. There's lots to see and do on Naxos, and the beaches there are fabulous. I've always intended to write about it but never did, so this time its definitely a travel journalists's adventure for me.

Naxos historical notes: Evidently Lord Byron visited here early in his travels to Greece and was very impressed. The ancient Naxans were Ionians of Athenian stock. The Persians sacked the island in 490 BC. The Naxiots sent four ships to form the Greek fleet at Salamis (against the Persians) and were the first of the allied states to come under Athenian rule (471 BC). Naxos was seized by Venetian Marco Sanudi, in 1207. His dynasty ruled the island for 360 years until Naxos fell to the Turks in 1566.

AMORGOS (Amorgoss)
This island is just a short ferry trip off the northern coast of Naxos. I've always intended to visit it so this time I'll go there. (There is a convention for Culture and Tourism there this month which I am obvioulsy unable to attend, but I've been in touch with one of the women tourism organizers and she is looking forward to meeting me. So hopefully I'll be shown around in style.) One of the places I want to visit is the extrordinary monastery perched on a cliff-side. And the island is said to be excellent for walking.

The port of Katapolo occupies a large bay in the most verdant area of the island. There's some Minoan ruins here as well as a Mycanaean cemetary. The islands well-reserved Cycladic village, Hora (also known as Amorgos) is located above the shore at about 400 m. There's an archaeological museum there. Amorgos has yielded many Cycladic finds, some of which are in the National Museum in Athens.

The Monastery Moni Hozoviotissis is a major feature on the island with spectacular scenery. The dazzling white building clings to a cliff face above the east coast of the island. The monastery houses another one of those "miraculous" icons that Greece is noted for. This one was found in the sea below the monastery. You can walk down to the monastery from Hora on an old stepped path.

The film "The Big Blue" was partly filmed on this island and there's a pub named after it that glows blue neon at night.

The other port on the island is Aegiali, once an old hippie hang-out in the '70s with a good stretch of beach. There's another pebbled beach at Agia Anna with a stunning setting. The villages of Tholaria and Langada (near Aegiali) are the most picturesque villages, worth a visit.

Just 25 m. SE of Amorgos is ASTIPALAIA another island once occupied by the Venetians and this has influenced the dialect spoken by the people there. This small island has an interesting history and is said to be the only Cycladic island without snakes. There's the remains of a Venetian castle there. I'm going to check this one of for a day-trip.

Amorgos History notes:
In antiquity there were three cities: Aigiali, Minoa and Arkesene, all on the north coast. The island was the home of the poet Simonides (556-467 BC) who beat the famous poet/orator Aeschylus in a competition for the best elegy on the fallen at Marathon.

"Go tell the Spartans, thou who passes by,
That here, obedient to their laws, we lie."
Simondides 556-468 BC frag 92
Inscription on the memorial to the fallen Spartans at Thermopylae

MAKING PLANS FOR THE SUNSET BIRTHDAY PICNIC ON THE PNYX HILL

I'll be celebrating my birthday in Athens again this year. I've had many memorable birthday parties there over the years, and as this year several friends will be arriving in Athens for a reunion, I wanted this one to be extra-special. So I decided we'd have a sunset picnic on the Hill of the Pnyx which is the place where the ancient Assembly used to meet. It's been a bit hard to co-ordinate the weekend's plans though what with other events, people arriving at various times, Athens friends working (they all work in tourism, long hours every day). But in the end everything will come together and somehow the picnic will take place.

The agora and the area surrounding it are favorite places of mine in Athens. I've spent lots of time wandering about the ruins and doing research there as the Agora and surrounding Hills feature in part of my novel. This is where Socrates hung out, and Plato too. And the great tyrants of Athens who left their mark on the city with buildings like the Parthenon. This excerpt is from a blog I wrote in 2005 after a day browsing around the site with my friend Patrick.

JUNE, 2005
Today's mini field trip took us up the Aereopagitou pedestrian path along the foot of the Hill of Muses. The path follows the ridge of a hill along what was the Diateichisinic walls which had been built to connect with Themistocles Long Walls, and enclosed the ancient quarters of Koile and Melite, site of many ancient dwellings dating to 5th C. B.C. (the time of the Peloponnesian War). It leads past the site of the North tower of "Dipylon above the Gates' where now stands the little church of Agios Dhimitrios Loumbardhiaris. The name comes from loumbardhaor "canon" and is derived from a miracle attributed to the Saint in which a Turkish canon, located on the Acropolis, was struck by lightening at the moment it was about to open fire on the congregation.

Just above the church rises the Hill of the Pnyx, in Classical times popularly called "The Rocks."This was the meeting place of the Assembly or Ecclesia, where the great statesmen such as Aristides, Themostocles, Pericles and Demosthenes held their audiences.Pnyx means "the place where people were tightly packed". Piknos: compact, dense, crowded.This was in reference to the single entrance way. The area itself could hold about 5,000 citizens as well as the Assembly officials. The Assembly was presided over by the Prytaneis. The citizens were hustled to the Pnyx by Scythian archers who held cords daubed with red paint across the streets of the Agora and neighbouring streets in order to hurry up the laggards and prevent citizens from cutting a meeting. There was only the one entrance, and everyone was scrutinized so no unauthorised persons could slip in. Nobody who was not a citizen could attend without special permission. Late comers who had been marked by the red paint, forfeited their allowance.

The Pnyx itself is a huge rock terrace in the form of a semi circle with a colossal retaining wall built of stone blocks. The excavations are more clearly marked now, including the Bema, a broad terrace levelled from the rock which served as the speaker's platform. (Up until a couple of years ago this is where they held the Athen's Sound and Light Show each night.) There's a magnificent view of the Parthenon from there, it also looks down over the Agora on the East side and a sweeping view of Athens right out to the port of Pireaus and the sea on the west. As well, there is a clear view of the Philoppapou monument on the Hill of Muses nearby.

Once the Assembly had gathered, prayers were offered at the altar of Zeus Agoraios and the shrine of the healing god, Zeus Hypeistos. The Assembly met ten times a year. The Chairman of the Prytaneis presided, assisted by a secretary and a Herald who made the announcements. The audience sat on wooden benches. At the lower level of the Bema sat the Prytaneis assisted by Scythian archers who kept order.

After the 4th century BC the Pnyx was abandoned and the Assembly met at the Theatre of Dionysos. I'd been to the Pnyx many times before but today was the first time I'd ventured beyond it, along the crest of the Hill of Nymphs where there is an old observatory (Asteroskopion) built in 1842, and nearby there are traces of the long Walls and the Barathron, the ancient place of execution. On the top of the Hill is the tiny Church of Agia Marina with its multi-domed modern successor dominating the hill. An inscription found on a rock here marks the limits of the Precinct of Zeus.Patrick and I walked down the hill and arrived on the pedestrian walkway in Thisseion where we stopped for a frappe at a very expensive side-walk cafe.

The weekend of my birthday, will be a gathering of friends from everywhere: Norway, Finland, Germany, Canada and those who live in Athens, a highlight of my Greek holiday. It's been a little tricky co-ordinating the time to have the sunset picnic. The most suitable date now seems to be on the day of my birthday, June 3. Being on the Pnyx for my birthday will conjur a lot of memories of other picnics my friends and I have held there. I have some great photos of gatherings over the years from the 80's and the 90's. Missing will be my dear friend Roberto, and the poet/magician James, and my pal Graham. So we'll have to pour some libations in their memory. No matter what, it's going to be a grand celebration!

SOME STOPS ALONG THE WAY

It's been four years since I last visited Parga, a beautiful little town on Greece's west coast. We're going to stop off there for a couple of days on this trip and I'm really looking forward to being back there again. Mainly, I want to make a second journey to the Rock of Zalonga. I was there in the mid '90's but didn't write a story about it. And back then I wasn't keeping an on-line blog or diary so my memories of it are just what I wrote in my hand-written personal journal. It's a spectacular place and the memorial for the Soulioti women is outstanding.
Here's some notes taken from my emails home back in 2003, about my visit to Parga and on that trip, my second visit to the Nekromanteion (Oracle of the Dead).

PARGA.
This is a gem of a little town on the sea just a bit south
of Corfu. I've been here before but I'm amazed at how it's expanded.
Quite a popular resort for Italians and also Brits but some other
Europeans here too.

A bit of back history which involves the infamous Ali Pasha I
mentioned in Ionannina. This town ued to be a British Protectorate
at the time of the Ottoman occupation. Ali Pasha convinced the
Brits to give Parga to him for his expanded empire. The deal was
that he signed an edict stating that he would not harass or punish
the Souliote resistance force who had been fighting against the
Turks up the in the mountains near here. Of course, being the nasty
devil that he was, the edict wasn't worth the papers it was written
on. So he sent his men after the Souliots who were just south of
here at a place called Zalonga.

When the Souliotes learned the Ali Pasha's men were coming the men
holed up in a monastary to fight to the death and the women and
children climbed up on the mountain to a ridge that overlooked the
monastary. The Ali Pasha's men came and killed all the rebels in
the monastary. When the women saw that their fate was sealed (either
rape, being carted off to a harem or worse) they began a circle
dance, some of them holding their babies, on the top of the cliff.
As they danced round and round, singing their Souiiot freedom songs,
they came closer and closer to the edge of the cliff and one by one
they lept off onto the rocks far below. Only two babies survived
and these were later cared for by nuns of the monastery. The Greek
army has erected an immense monument to the Souliote women on top of
the cliff where they threw themselves off. I've been up there,
climbed up quite a lot of stairs to get there but it was worth it.
Quite an experience to be on the edge there and look down at the
rocks below and understand what happened.

This time I'm not going to Zalonga though I'd love to return. But
tomorrow I'm going on a boat trip up the Acharon River which
represents the Styx in Greek mythologdy, to the mouth of Hades where
the Necromanteion (Oracle of the Dead) is located. I've been there
before too, but this is a research trip. So I'll write more about it
later.

I VISIT THE ORACLE OF THE DEAD

Near Parga there used to be an ancient Bronze Age city called Ephyra
which was situated on a lake (now dried up) which was fed by two
rivers, The Ac heron and the Kokytos. This was te site of an
ancient cult of the divinity of death, the Nekromaneteion.

On a hillside, protected by cyclopeon Mycenaean walls and an inner
circuit of polygonal masonry, dark passageways led to the mouth of
an underground cavern which was believed to be the entrance to the
realm of Hades and Persephone. Ancients came here to consult the
souls of the dead who, on leaving their bodies, acquired knowledge
of the future.

I boarded a launch at Parga for a trip up the River
Acheron (symbolic of the mythical Styx) for a visit to the
Nekromanteion. It was an interesting voyage. My fellow passengers
were other tourists: German, Swedish, British, and included sev eral
children. Capt. Kostas was a good natured old salt who kept us
entertained as well as involved int he cruise.

The west coast of Greece, The Ionian Sea, is truly one of the most
beautiful areas of Greece, and I wonder why tourists bypass it
in favour of the more barren Cyclades Islands of the Aegean.
The coastline is magnificent, with high limestone cliffs riddles
with caves, geologically fascinating, where the earth has been trust
unwards due to volcanic action. All along the coast were great
jagged rocks jutting out of the sea like the sharp teeth of giant
sea monsters. (You know where many of the myths come from when you
see this kind of landscape.) We passed secluded coves with dazzling
turquoise water and white pebble b eaches. Tall spiky cedars and
deciduous trees cover the mountainsides that rise up from the sea.

We approached the delta of the Acheron and you knew you were
entering into a mysterious place. The river is narrow and
slow-moving, a dark jade green colour. Both b anks are thick with
reeds and willows dip their branches into the water. Turtles bask
on lily pads; black, peacock-coloured and emeral green dragonflies
dart over the surface. I wondered if this river once had
crocodiles. Y ou almost expected to see one emerge from the
shallows. It reminded me of the Bayou in Louisianna without the
cypress trees and menacing alligators. Unfortunately, my camera
battery expired as we began our voyage up the river. ***note to
travel writers: always go prepared!!!

We tied up on the shore and had to climb up a steep em bankment to
get to the road. Capt. Kostas informed us we must walk the 2 kms to
the Nekromanteion. He didn't mention that the last kilometer was
uphill. It was about 40 degrees that day. Hot as Hades! But we
slogged along through the corn fields and eventually reached our
destination: The Oracle of the Dead.

I was here once before, and not a lot has b een done since then,
but I was sorry my camera had died, because I wanted to record a few
more details as this was a research trip for the last part of my novel.

I could only imagine what it was like in the ancient times. Back
then y ou would come through the thick entrance gates into a dark,
torch-lit hallway. There were three chambers for supplicants,
separated b y a bathing room and a purification room. For sev eral
days the supplicants were kept isolated, questioned by the priests,
and fed a special purification diet of beans and lupins, some of
which were likely hallucenogenic. The visitors had to be prepared
psychologically and physically, since contact between the living
and the dead was dangerous.

Later they would be taken out to make sac rifices before being led
down a narrow, dark labyrinth which was filled with hallucenogenic
smoke. There they would enter the Palace of Hades to meet the souls
of the Dead.

From the central room, you climb donw stgeep stairs into a long,
narrow underground chamber which is formed by 15 arches. This
sacred room is the Palace of Hades and Persephone where the ghosts
of the dead appeared to communicate with those consulting the
oracle. It gives you a creepy feeling even now to climb down into
the crypt. Yoiu can visualize what went on back in thos ancient
times. Odysseus visited the oracle to consult the ghost of
Achilles. I wondered if perhaps Olympias had come there to consult
the soul of her dead son, Alexander.

Many objects have been found at the Nekromanteion, the most
important of them from the basement room, the sacred crypt. They
are on display in the museum at Ionannina. Among them is a device
like a crane used to make the figures of the deceased appear. This
may be why the walls in the main sanctuary were so thick, making it
possible to create sec ret passageways along which the priests could
move unobserved. In Roman times, 167 B C, the Oracle was uncovered
as a huge scam (like our seances) and the Nekromanteion was burned
down.

After communicating with the dead, visitors departed from the
sanctuary by a different road and were required to keep silent ab
out all they had seen and heard to avoid being guilty of impiety
towards the gods of the Underworld.

I'm not sure that I confured any ghosts while I was there, but later
that afternoon when we stopped at a beach to swim, I heard Olympias'
voice speak to me and wrote down her words to use in "Shadow of the
Lion".

The cruise back to Parga was fun. The sea was choppy and it was a
rough ride. Capt. Kostas who sails this coastline sev eral times a
day, kept the boat so close to the cliffs that you could almost
reach out and touch them. He took the boat into one of the sea
caves and encouraged two of the young boys to jump in for a swim.
Inside the cave there is a blue reflection from the crystal clear
water. The boys had a great time swimming and of course, teasing
Capt Kosta pretended he was taking the boat out without them. I'm
sure they had a lot of stories to tell their friends later.

Then we pulled into this lovely beach for a swim and lunch, a long
stretch of pebbles so smooth they were like polished gems. I
rented a beach chair and basked in the sun, had a delicious swim in
the warm sea, and then we set sail again for Parga. Certainly a
very interesting day!

I posted a story about the Ionian Islands on my writer's blog.
www.wynnbexton.blogspot.com

You can read a published version of the Nekromanteion trip on www.travellady.com
You'll see how valuable these journal notes are when it comes time to write an article about the adventure.

TINOS, MYKONOS, DELOS: The Divine and the Decadent

Two months from this weekend my friend and I will be in Venice. Then, on the 22nd May we head by ferry to Greece. We're going to make some stops along the way, as well as visit a few islands after we reach Athens. I'm the tour guide because I've visited these places many times before, and written about some of them. My friend wants specifically to see one of the Cycladic Islands, noted for their pristine white churches with blue domes. I suggested that Mykonos is the most typical of these, the picture postcard Greek Island. And as it will be before high season we will not be beset by hedonistic rowdies who roam the island mid-summer, sullying the gorgeous beaches with open fornicating and strolling the labyrinth of cobbled streets nude and drunk. Yes, that's the way Mykonos has become according to a friend who works in the tourism business there. Unless the townfolk have come to their senses and forbidden such disgusting behavior. Unfortunately, in the past, the tourist dollar has meant more than modesty.

I've visited Mykonos twice before, both times off-season (once at Easter and once in early June). It's two 'sister' islands, Tinos and Delos, are also interesting places to see. And this is an article I wrote about them some years ago.


Only a few nautical miles separate them, but the islands of Tinos, Mykonos and Delos, in the Greek Cyclades Islands, are as diverse as the Elysian Fields and the Underworld. The Divine and the Decadent.
Tinos is ascetic: a holy island, famed for one of the most important shrines of the Orthodox Church. Mykonos is a pleasure seeker’s delight. Delos has been the god Apollo’s sanctuary since antiquity.

TINOS
The bell tower of the Church of the Annunciation looms above the flat rooftops of Tinos. Every August 15 for a hundred years, it has been the scene of a mass pilgrimage symbolizing faith and the Holy Mother.

There are several monasteries and convents on the island, the most significant being the Convent of Kehrovounio. In 1823 a nun received a vision there revealing the hiding place of the miraculous icon, which is now housed in the Church of the Annunciation. Its discovery was taken as an omen of Greek freedom from Turkish bondage.

White seminary buildings surround the Church like a fortress wall. The big iron gates, plated with silver figures of the Virgin and Saints open onto a wide courtyard paved with mosaics of black and white pebbles. The fragrances of candle wax and incense drift out of the open doorways.

The shrine of the Virgin contains the famed icon. The dark, egg-tempera faces of the Virgin and Child are almost obscured by pearls, diamonds, emeralds and rubies. The icon is believed to have miraculous healing powers. Pious worshippers approach in awe. During August, when the pilgrims flock to Tinos from every corner of Greece, it will be almost impossible to find a room at any of the hotels that line the bay.

Take a bus or rent a Vespa to explore Tinos. There are scenic coves and beaches, picturesque villages and campsites. Tinos is the birthplace of several famous artists. In Pyrgos, the home of the great sculptor Giannoulis Halepas has been converted into a museum. Koni is the native village of Nicholaos Gyzis, one of Greece’s most renowned painters. Folk art and handicrafts are displayed in the villages.

MYKONOS
The ferry trip from Tinos to Mykonos is only an hour. Mykonos is rocky and barren. The village is stark, vivid, a flaring whiteness against the ink blue sea. Sparkling white cubes of houses and the blue and red domes of miniature churches are strung out along the jagged shoreline. Hidden among the maze of narrow streets are the bars and cabarets that have made Mykonos internationally popular.

Mykonos is a stage for flamboyant jet-setters and sun worshippers, its sheltered harbor a haven for yachts. By day, the village is dazzling, the shop fronts hung with a brilliant array of wares. Narrow cobbled streets curl around the labyrinth of colonnades and arcades. Houses seem to lean against each other; wooden balconies and trellises spill over with magenta bougainvillea and crimson hibiscus. At the end of every whorl of streets, the sun sparkles invitingly.

Evening approaches. The whiteness is haunting. Vivid colors of the sunset reflect off the whitewashed walls. The streets flicker with mysterious shadows. It’s ouzo time. Sit at one of the harbor’s tavernas: sip a glass of this cloudy, licorice-flavored Greek aperitif; watch the last of the sun’s golden rays turn the evening into sheer enchantment.

DELOS
Early in the morning, take a trip across to the little island of Delos. As the kaiki approaches the ancient harbor, Delos is a sharp, ebony outline against the pale sky. The soft glow of the morning sun shifts across the bleak, rocky shoreline; an aureole appears over the tumbled ruins. The only sound is the gentle lapping of the sea.

Step off the kaiki; walk toward the porticos and pillars of the Sacred Precinct; feel the surge of excitement. Delos is barren, desolate. An awesome eeriness emanates from Apollo’s holy sanctuary. The power of unknown Beings is felt.

Walk along the Sacred Way, following the footsteps of ancient heroes. Odysseus visited Delos on his famed voyage, stopping to pay homage at the god’s altar. Theseus founded the Delian Games here on his triumphant return from the bull-courts of Crete.

Once a verdant, tropical garden island, lush with palm groves and fields of flower, Delos was populated from the tenth century BC. The Greeks assembled here to herald the rite of spring. Now the only inhabitants are scores of lizards basking on the fallen altars.

Solemn stone lions guard the avenue leading to the Sacred lake. The lake is now a dry bed, but there is still a palm tree growing on this spot in remembrance of the birth of Apollo. Here, his mother Leto, clasped her hands around a palm tree when she brought Apollo into the world.
Climb the rocky pathway to the summit of Kynthos, the Sacred Mount. Below, the sea glimmers like a jewel. The island is drenched with dazzling light. The sun burns off the rocks, searing the fields, parching the earth.

Across the narrow channel, colorful fishing boats bob into the shelter of Mykonos harbor. Tavernas and tourist shops begin a brisk trade. Nude bathers frolic in the clear blue sea at Paradise Beach. Another day has begun in the Garden of Eden.
Farther away, on Tinos, the bells in the tower of the Church of the Annunciation toll a litany calling the devout Tinians to worship.

The warm Greek sun beams down. On Delos, Apollos’ presence is felt.


IF YOU GO: The best time to visit these islands is in April or May, before the height of the tourist season.
There is a daily ferry service to Tinos and Mykonos from the mainland ports of Piraeus and Rafina and flights from Athen’s Olympic Airport. Boat tours run each day between Mykonos and Delos.
ADDITIONAL INFO: In Greek Mythology: “The Elysian Fields” were the abode of the blessed after death, or heaven. “The Underworld” was the world of the dead, or hell.

TRAVEL PLANS FOR VENICE

"In Venice Tasso's echoes are no more
and silent rows the songless gondolier;
Her palaces are crumbling to the shore,
And music meets not always now the ear;
Those days are gone - but Beauty still is here.
States fall, arts fade - but Nature doth not die,
Nor yet forget how Venus once was dear,
The pleasant place of all festivity,
The revel of the earth, the masque of Italy."
Lord Byron "Childe Harold" 1817

My travel companion Ingrid came over yesterday and we watched videos of Venice. Both of us are getting real excited about our trip in mid May. I've been reading travel books and deciding the main points of interest I'd like to see. Of course, there are hundreds of things to see. I can't think of another more romantic or exotic place to visit and it will be a dream of a lifetime to be there. But as a travel writer, I like to focus on possible article slants, so I usually do some research about a place before I visit to make sure that I won't miss out on something important.

I've visited a lot of the Venitian sites in Greece and so I've always been interested in the connection between those two countries. I've also been planning to do a story about Lord Byron's Greece and before going there he spent some time in Venice. So I've decided to focus on various places of interest in Venice that may follow those themes.

I'm fascinated by the number of writers who found Venice was their Muse. I'm hoping I will too. George Eliot was a frequent visitor. Her poem "The Spanish Gypsy" was influenced by the works of the artist Tintoretto. Byron arrived in Venice in 1816 and moved into the Hotel Gran Bretagna on the Grand Canal where he lived for nearly five years. Richard Wagner lived in Venice where he composed the second act of Tristan and Isolde. He died in the Palazzo Vendramon-Caleogi in 1883. Georges Sand left her husband in 1831 and embarked on life as a writer spending much of her time writing in Venice. Guy de Maupassant thought Venice would be a place of surpassing grandeur but amazed, found it to be "tiny, tiny, tiny! -- an old charming, poor, ruined place on the point of crumbling into the water" Henry James found it melancholy and memorable. "The deposed, the defeated, the disenchanted, the wounded or even the bored, have seemed to find there something that no other place could give."

So here's a list of some of the places I hope to visit:

CANNAREGIO
The Jewish Ghetto : I'm thinking of The Merchant of Venice. The word 'ghetto' came from the cinders piled where founderies were set up in Canneregio. The Venetian word "to smelt" was gettare, hence the name "geto veccio" (old foundry) for the first site and "geto nuevo" for the second. With the arrival of the Jews in the 14th and 15th centuries, the meaning and prounciation changed as the "ghetto" became the place assigned to them.

Palazzo Vendramon-Calergi - The palace became the property of the Calergi, a family of Cretan origin. Composer Richard Wagner lived and died here in 1883. The palace is now a casino.

Campo dei Mori - Where the fondaco, houses used by Arab merchants are located. Palazzo Mastelli is the estate of three Moorish brothers (spice traders) who came in 1112 to escape civil war in the Peloponnese. The name "Mastelli" came from the thousands of buckets of gold sequins mastelli, the merchants possessed. Nearby is Tintoretto's house where the artist died in 1594.

Corte Seconda Del Milion - Marco Polo lived here until the time of his death in January 1324. (The house was burned down in 1596 but the courtyard remains.) Teatro Malibran is thought to occupy the place where the house stood. This theatre as named after Maria Malibran an opera singer who arrived in Venice from Paris in 1835. She stayed at the Grand Hotel near Palazzo Contarini-Fasan where the legendary Desdemona was said to have lived. With this in mind, Maliban sang Rossini's Othello and later donated her fees to the bankrupt theatre (formerly called the "Fenice")

The Church of San Michele Cemetary where famous writers, musicians and royalty are buried including Igor Stravinsky, Serge Diaghiliv of the Russion Ballet and poet Ezra Pound.

CASELLO
The Greek community at San Giorgio Dei Greci. There were about 4000 Greek residents in Venice in the 15th century. Now there are only about 100. Most were merchants, book publishers, artists, scribes and literary scholars.

The Grand Hotel Danieli (former Palazzo Dandolo,) built in 14th c.) one of the world's most famous hotels. Amont the famous literary guests here were Dickens, Wagner, Balzac, Proust, Debussy, Cocteau, and George Sand who ended her famous love affair with Alfred de Musset here after he found out she was having an affair with his physician.

The Church of La Pieta where Vivaldi taught from 1703. He was the violen master and occasionally choirmaster and resident composer.

The Arsenal with it's two giant lions brought from Greece in 1687. Here is where Venice's naval ships were built and maintained. The Naval Museum is nearby.

Palazzo Benzon Where lord Byron was a habitue of the Contessa Marina Querini Benzon's literary salons, along with other famous writers of the time.

Palazzo Mocenigo (18th century) where Byron lived 1818-19 while writing Don Juan

San Lazzaro Degli Armeni Monastary where there is a room in the museum devoted to Lord Byron who regularly visited the convent (to study the Armenian language.)

It may sound like a lot to see in the few days we'll be there, but Venice is small, and I am told you can walk across it in an hour (if you don't get lost. But then, getting lost in Venice will be a lot of fun!)

NEW ORLEANS Part III MARDIS GRAS: Hey Mister, Throw me Something!

Ok, Mardis Gras is now over for this year but I thought I'd still post this as this was my experience in 1994 when Sylivie and I went to New Orleans. I always wanted to return there in Springtime to see the wisteria in bloom and perhaps spot a few alligators in the swamp. But, alas, the city will likely never be the same and I wonder if many of those grand old mansions are still intact. I know the French Quarter escaped some of the damage. But is it still the same?

New Orlean's grandest celebration, Mardis Gras, was brought to New Orleans from Europe in 1879. Carnival is a mystical combination of Christian beliefs, pagan rituals, glamour and debauchery that begins twelve days after Christmas when Balls are held, hosted by the carnival "krewes" to choose the King and Queen of "misrule."

There are 60 krewes, the oldest being the krewe of Rex. The male and female members of these krewes pay up to $1000 a year for the honor and each krewe bears the cost of throw-aways, the doubloons and beads tossed to the crowds during the Carnival parades.

In February, the week before Lent, the parades begin, ending on Mardis Gras -- Fat Tuesday -- with the wildest celebration of all. The song goes: "It's Carnival time and everybody's havin' fun..." and you will have fun if you're in New Orleans for Mardis Gras.

More than two million people jam into the French Quarter to celebrate, so if you plan to be there for this event you will need to book your hotel months in advance and be prepared to pay top prices. But in the end, you won't regret the cost. There are things you will see in New Orleans during Mardis Gras that you will never experience anywhere else. It's one huge party, and if you use your common sense, you are sure to have an unforgettable and safe time. Keep you rmoney in a safe place under your clothing, and don't carry a purse. If you're with a friend, stay together. Don't walk down empty or unlit dark streets. Keep with the crowds. Be sure to dress warmly in casual clothing and comfortable walking shoes.

The balconies of the French Quarter are hung with purple, yellow and green streamers and flags, the Mardis Gras colors. The streets literally run with beer and are ankle deep with rubbish and discarded plastic cups. It's common practice in the French Quarter to carry your drinks in take-away cups from bar to bar. The official tourist drink is the Hurricane, but beer and wine flow freely too. Anything goes during Mardis Gras, and the New Orleans police, who are visible everywhere, are tolerant and polite but very firm in enforcing the law if necessary.

Pick up a copy of "Where", an essential guide to New Orleans, free and available from hotels and tourist agencies. It will include maps outlining the parade routes. There are several parades a day, and as the streets will be impassiable, it is wise to find a vantage point for viewing well in advance. You will soon get used to elbowing your way through the crowds, scrambling up on the barricades and screaming at the passing krewes the familiar refrain: "Hey mister, throw me somthin'!" as you grab for the trinkets and beads the krewes toss. The point is to catch as many strands of beads as you can and wear them all during the Carnival. If a doubloon lands near you, put your foot on it and wait, or you'll get trampled as you try to pick it up.

The parade floats, lavishly decorated with feathers, flowers and streamers of vibrant hues, are manned by the masked and costumed krewes, and carry guest celebrities. Each krewe has its own theme: Zulu's jungle; Orpheus' music; Okeanos' fantasy sea world; Bacchus's god of revellries. There are buccanneers and clowns, snappy marching bands, and spangled majorettes. Inevitably you will see New Orleans jazz clarinetist Pete Fountain and his Half-Fast Walking Club, a merry band of strolling musicians.

A freezing gale howls down St. Charles Street but fails to chill the enthusiasm of the revelers. A bevy of plumed beautifies are almost blown over when the wind catches their head-dresses. Banners and streamers unfurl in the icy gusts. Spectators wrapped in blankets and muffled with scarves sip hot drinks. Some of them have been standing in the cold for hours.

Masks and costumes are tradiionally worn by revelers only on Fat Tuesday. This is the day the Monarchs come to town. The fun starts early in the morning with the Gold Nugget Festival at Woldenberg Park, between Jackson brewery and the Aquarium of the Americas, the highlight being the arrival of Rex, King of the Carnival, who is officially given control over the city by the Mayor.

At the corner of St. Anne and Burgundy Streets in the French Quarter, one of the most outageous contests of all is held. The Drag Queen Costume Contest features some of the most exotic and elaborate costumes modeled with an equal amount of pizzazz.

Down on Bourbon Street it's adult entertainment as the bartering for Mardis Gras beads between people on the street and those on the balconies begins. The traditional call of "Show us your #@*!" rings back and forth as particularly well-endowed women are challenged to show their comely charms.

But Mardis Gras is just one day and by midnight the party is over. New Orleans mounted policemen sweep through the French Quarter followed by the street cleaners who wipe away all traces of Carnival for another year. By morning the streets of Vieux Carre are spotless and the crowds of merrymakers have gone. You can once again enjoy New Orleans in all its elegance.

NEW ORLEANS Part II: Mint Juleps and Alligtors

If you want a touch of the romantic south, visit the plantation homes near New Orleans. A number of companies offer these tours, conducting small multilingual groups by mini-bus with interesting and well-informed gu ides. The tours include several plantation homes and a Bayou boat trip, with a plantation lunch included.
Author's note: Since the hurrican I don't know if any of these grand old mansions were destroyed. It's heartbreaking to think they might have been!

While sipping on a mint julep under the oaks of Oak Alley, you cannot help but find yurself transported into the world of Scarlet O'Hara and Rhett Butler. As you look out on the green lawns and gracious Greek Revival architectures of the manor, you are offered a clear view of the past.

Oak Alley Plantation was built in 1839 and is best known for its alley of twenty-eight evenly spaced Louisiana live oak trees, believed to be 300 years old, that gave the plantation its name. The mansion is furnished exactly as it was when the last owner, a venerable old lady in her 90's died in the lavender bedroom upstairs. Each room has a unique story which is related by the guides who are dressed in period costume. You can imagine the little slave boy pulling on the 'shoe-fly' fan while his master dined in the elegant dining room, or hear the servants whistle as they carried the trays of food along "Whistler's Walk" from the kitchen to the big house, their whistles assuring the mistress that their mouths weren't full of sampled food. The slaves' quarters no longer exist because they were mainly flimsy wooden shacks that did not withstand time.

In the south of Louisiana, only a dozen or so plantation houses still stand, all on the west side of the Mississippi River, because the Civil War ended before they could be burned down as ordered by the Yankees. The oldest is the Destrehan Plantation, built in 1787.

From the levees and estates of the Mississippi, journey to the dense, mysterious channels of the bayou, aboard a boat navigated by a handsome young Cajun guide. The boat glides down the narrow channels where egret, blue heron and water fowl nest among the red swamp maples. Grey-green tufts of Spanish moss hang from the cypress trees. Snapping turles sun themselves on the mud banks. These turtles, which grow to an immense size, can snap off a stick with their jaws. Poisonous snakes such as the copper head and water-moccasin lurk in the moss and the root systems of the trees making it a dangerous occupation for the Cajun folk who pick the Spanish moss for sale to florists.

In spring and summer, water hyacinths cover the murky surface of these foreboding waterways concealing the deadly alligators which the guide and his father hunt.

"We bait these big hooks with meat," he explains. "Then the hook is hung over a branch by a rope. When the bait is pulled down into the water you know there's a 'gator on it. We bring the boat alongside and shoot. It's dangerous and tricky. You have to hit the 'gator in just the right spot behind the eyes so as not to damage the skin. Some of these critters are up to seven feet in length and if they strike with their tail they can break a man's arm. Once a 'gator's jaws clamp down on its prey you can't pry them open."

He displays photos of the monstrous creatures he has hunted, and explains that the 'gators hibernate, buried in the mud, from October to March and surface once the water temperature is warm. Strict laws prohibit alligator poaching and offenders risk a find of $5,000 or a jail term of up to 15 years with no parole. Because of alligator farms, licensed hunters such as our guide, have suffered a loss of income from the valuable hides which are mainly sold to France for shoes and purses.

"Don't be caught taking any souvenir allegator artifacts out of Louisiana unless they have an official dated blue tag," he warns. "Or you will be penalized."

Most of the cypress forests in the swamps are owned by logging companies, but the Cajuns have lived in settlements here since they were offered land back in the 1800's. The name "Cajun" is derived from "Acadian". The Acadians once settled in eastern Canada, before the British evicted them because they wouldn't pledge allegiance to the Queen. In these tiny enclaves in Louisianna's bayou country, the descendants of these French pioneers live isolated lives, and speak a Cajun-French patois.

To be continued: Part III MARDIS GRAS, New Orlean's grandest celebration.

CELEBRATING MARDIS GRAS: MY TRIBUTE TO NEW ORLEANS Part 1: Savory New Orleans

The following three blogs about New Orleans were written several years ago and first published on a site called themestream.com (no longer existing.) Because it's Mardis Gras time, and because that grand old city is making a comeback after the devastating hurricane that all but destroyed Her, I am posting the three stories once again.

SAVORY NEW ORLEANS
Like a rich, savory gumbo, spiced with just the right combination of ingredients, New Orleans is a feast for all senses. From hot cuisine to cool jazz, as the refreain goes: "You'll know what it means to miss New Orleans" once you've experienced this unique city.

Seasoned with a blend of history, charm and joie de vivre, this genteel 275 year old metropolic, cradled in a bend of the Mississippi River, is a city where you can lose yourself in time. As you stroll under the ornate wrought iron balconiesof the French Quarter or meander on the manicured lawns of gracious colonial estates, its a rare opportunity to see and expeirence the Southern way of life.

Since the days when the fabled pirates, Jean and Pierre Lafitte haunted Bourbon Street, New Orleans has had the reputation of being one of the most dangerous cities in America. But don't let this intimidate you, because it is equally renown for its southern hospitality. People are friendly here, and you can get a conversation started instantly by talking about cooking, food or music.

The food in New Orleans is as legendary as the famous restaurants that serve it. From grand southern dining in well-appointed French Quarter restaurants such as Brennans, with its French-Creole delicacies, or Antoine's, where oysters Rockefeller was first created, to modest diners that offer a fare of hot roast beef Po-Boys oozing with mayonnaise and gravy, or a bowl of stewed greens with ham soup, there are gastronimical adventures here to fit everyone's budget.

Try Cajun gumbo, shrimp remoulade, craw-fish etouffee. Felix Fish and Oyster Bar on Bourbon Street serves everything from oysters on the half shell to Italian and Creole or Cajun specialities in a casual atmosphere. Or spend a lazy lunch hour by the river at the French Market under the striped awnings of the Mediterranean Cafe. While you eat spicy prawn jambalaya, enjoy the jammin' of a jazz combo.

In New Orleans, there's music everywhere: blues, jazz, lively Cajun two-step. Bourbon Street is famous for its jazz clubs. Buskers entertain on every street corner while little boys tap-dance on the curb. You can sing along with a banjo player strumming on the wharf, or watch a junior version of Louis Armstrong, a boy not more than ten years old, wailing on a trumpet in Jackson Square. In this bold, decadent city, a host of famous musicians had their start. In "N'walin's" Preservation Hall, Dixiland jazz was born.

Vieux Carre, the French Quarter, has its share of famous streets, immortalized in songs and movies: Bourbon, Basin, Rampart and Desire. Take a tour by mule and carriage through the heart of New Orlean's original old town, where you will see fine examples of French and Spanish colonial architecture, arched carriage ways and enclosed courtyards where in summer canopies of purple wisteria bloom. Or board the St. Charles streetcar on Canal Street, to visit the Garden District with its elegant antebellum mansions, Audubon Park and the Zoo.

Munch on a beignet, a doughnut covered with powdered sugar, as you explore Jackson Square, the town square of the original French colony. Walk past the commanding spires of St. Louis Cathedral, the oldest cathedral in America, visit the Cabildo where the Louisiana puchase was signed in 1803, and the Presbytere which has an exhibit of Louisiana history. In the Square, you will be entertained by street performers and musicians while browisng among craft booths and art exhbitis. You can have your face painted here, and if it's Mardis Gras, other body parts as well.

At Jackson square, where the French Quarter meets the Mississippi, riverboats still churn up the fabled river. "Ol'Man River" keeps rollin' along these days with boats full of tourists. The Creole Queen and the Cajun Queen offer jazz-dinner cruises and the steamboat Natchez has a two hour cruise daily up the river to view the plantations and the stie of Civil War battlefields. For those who want a riverboat casino experience, the Queen of New Orleans, an authentic recreation of a 19th century paddlewheeler, is equipped with slot machines, video poker and speciality games.

Near Jack Square, is the French Market, America's oldest city market, a mix of retail and specialty shops and restaurants with bargains galore. Market stalls overflow with plump Creole tomatoes, heaps of okra, sweet potatoes, red and green capiscums (also known as peppers) and an abundance of other vegetables used in Creole and Cajun cooking. Fresh craw fish, oysters, clams and shrimp are available and colorful racks display spices and condiments that are necessary ingredients. While you're there, be sure to sample a traditional praline from Aunt Sally's Praline Shop, or go to a dessert shop for some old fashioned bread pudding.

Organized tours are an efficient and economical way to see other parts of the city. Knowledgeable guides provide information and history about off-the-beaten-track attractions that you might otherwise miss. For instance, it is unwise and unsafe to venture into the historic old cemeteries alone, but there's a Magic Cemetery Tour that will escort you through St. Louis cemetary, and a nightly Ghost and Vampire Haunt features lantern-carrying actors who lead you on an eerie adventure.

TO BE CONTINUED: Next, Part Two: A trip into the mysterious channels of the bayou.

TRAVEL PLANS AND DREAMS OF VENIZIA

"She looks a sea Cybele, fresh from ocean,
Rising with her tiara of proud towers
At any distance, with magestic motion,
A ruler of the waters and their powers."

George Noel Gordon, Lord Byron 1788 -1824 "Childe Harold's Pilgrimage" st 2

Travel plans are coming together now. I have purchased my ticket to Venice/Greece, leaving here May 16 to Venice via Amsterdam. We'll be in the beautiful old city of canals and gondoliers for four days, then travel by ferry down the Dalmation Coat to Igoumenitsa Greece, from there making stops at various places including Lefkada and maybe Kefalonia again.

There are various plans for when we are in Greece too. Some island visits and, of course, reunions with my friends there.

I spent the weekend looking through some gorgeous books on Venice "Art and Architecture". What an amazing city. Over the last few years I've developed quite a fascinating for the Venetians and started paying attention, in Greece, to the many Venetian castles that are located around the coastline and on some of the islands. For instance, Naxos has a very Venetian flavour to it because a lot of ship owners (Veneitian) lived there. A couple of years ago I also traveled around the south Peloponnese purposely locating Venetian castle sites. That part of Greece's history is usually overlooked in favour of the ancient Greek archaeology. But it's quite fascinating to find how the Venetians ruled the waterways there and built the fortresses because at one time there were many pirates plying those waters too.

I'm hoping to explore more of the Venetian sites in Greece this summer. And I also have a keen interesting in Lord Byron and his Venetian/Greek connections. This trip I must get over to the town where the Byron museum is located. He's quite a hero in Greece because of his involvement with the resistance against the Ottoman Turk invasions. The other things that interest me about him are the many women he left heartbroken. Apparantly there's a house in Venice famous for the fact one of his paramours threw herself off the balcony into the canal when he abandoned her.

I haven't decided exactly what I want to focus on in Venice. The whole place will be a wonder to me. It's going to be one of those dream-come-true vacations. And an added little bonus on the return trip: there's a long enough stop-over in Amsterdam that I'll be able to hop the train and go into town for a look around. Another city I've always been curious to see.

AH, ATHENA!

"Athens, the eye of Greece, mother of arts and eloquence."
John Milton 1608 - 1674 "Paradise Regained" l240

I'm dreaming of Athens these days. Often I become so homesick for Her, longing to be there strolling under the stoas, wandering through the ruins of the Agora, poking around the shops and bazaars of Monastiraki, hanging out with my friends at the To Kati Allo Taverna on Hazitchristou Street. But in a very short time I'll be there again. And last weekend my friend Patrick flew down for a visit with our friend Dinaz. He went to the T.K.A. and said everyone was asking about me. When was I coming? Soon!

It's going to be another fantastic trip. First, Ingrid and I will go to Venice (another dream come true holiday), then we're taking the ferry across to Greece, landing at Igoumenitsa. There are a number of places in that northern part of Greece (Epiros) where we will stop. Some of it is Alexander the Great territory (at least, his mother's home at Dodoni) and some is the final resting place of the poet Sappho (Lefkada, at Sappho's Leap in the south). Then we plan to journey across to Ithaka, Odysseus' home. I've been to all these places before, of course, but this time I'm showing Ingrid the sights. And it will be a good opportunity for me to invoke the Muse, inspire me to go forward with my Sappho play "House of the Muses" and complete the work on my novel "Shadow of the Lion" (which, hopefully I will have a finished draft of by then.) Of course, more travel writing too. I have to still complete a couple of stories from the last trip and each time I go, I try to visit a new location. This time I'm aiming for the islands of Amorgos and Skiathos. And Patrick says we are invited to visit Samos with Dinaz and her partner. (It's been some years since I was on Samos, a lovely island close to the Turkish coast.)

There will be quite a reunion of friends in Athens this summer. Friends Deborah (and maybe Jeni) will come from Canada. And two of my classical scholar friends, Anne-Britt (Norway) and Vesa (Finland) are hoping to be there too, during the month of June. I have promised to be tour guide for everyone (except AB and V. who have spent a good amount of time in Greece. That's where I met them several years ago when I was researching and working on my novel.)

So there is much to look forward to. It's been fun going through the brochures and travel guides with my friends, and reading all about Venice and Greece. Now I must brush up on my language skills again (and hope I don't get the Greek mixed with Spanish like I did in Chile!)

More travel news and plans will be posted here as they take shape.

"Fix your eyes on the greatness of Athens as you have it before you day by day, fall in love with her, and when you feel her great, remember that this greatness was won by men with courage, with knowlege of their duty, and with a sense of honor in action..."
Thucydides 460-400 BC Funeral oration of Pericles.

TRAVEL IN 2007

"I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs;
A palace and a prison on each hand:
I saw from out the wave her structures rise
As from the stroke of the enchanter's wand:
A thousand years their cloudy wings expand
Around me, and a dying Glory smiles
O'er the far times, when many a subject land
Look'd to the winged Lion's marble piles,
Where Venice sate in state, throned on her hundred isles!

Lord Byron, Childe Harold 1817

I've always wanted to visit Venice and when my travel companion Ingrid said she'd love to return there (she was there last summer, and before that my other friend had visited there a couple of times), I suggested that this year, when we go to Greece, instead of travelling via London, a route often taken, we should go via Venice. A splendid plan! And from Italy we'll take the ferry from Anconda over to Igoumenitsa and travel down the west coast of Greece through territory Ingrid has not yet explored. (The last time we were there we missed Sappho's Leap at the south end of Lefkada, and Ithaka, and she's never seen the lovely little port of Parga either.)

So the plans are in motion and very soon we'll be booking tickets. (The hotel in Venice is already booked.) Ingrid has given me three books about Venice to read so I can study up on the sights and history to prepare myself for this dream visit to one of the most fascinating places in the world.

We plan to be in Venice in mid May, and then we'll go on to Greece. At the beginning of June another friend is coming to Greece who has not visited there since the '70's. And perhaps even another of our friends will come too. So I'll be the 'tour' guide which I love doing.
In addition, two of my Classical scholar friends -- one from Norway and one from Finland -- are hoping to join me for a little reunion. So, even this far in advance, next summer's travels are shaping up to be quite exciting.

I will post more details about the trip plans as they unfold. Meanwhile, I'm looking forward to this new year. It won't be quite as full of unexpected trips as 2006, but this one is certain to be a highlight.

"Of all the dreamy delights, that of floating in a gondola among the canals and out of the Lagoon is surely the greatest..." George Eliot, Letters and Journals, 3 vols,. 1885

NOW THAT I'M HOME

THURSDAY, Dec. 7/06

I've landed, with the usual 'thud' and cultural shock that follows every trip away to exotic destinations. First, the weather. After enjoying the glorious sunshine (30+) of Chile and Argentina, almost forgetting it was actually December, and nearly Christmas -- reminded of it only because of the Christmas decorations and music in the malls of Santiago and Mendoza,-- it was somewhat of a shocker to arrive in Toronto to -3 and snow flurries. (I was grateful that the weatherman cleared the snow away in Vancouver for my arrival and the temperature here was a balmy 5 C)

In Toronto, Patrick and I bundled up and went about town in spite of the climate change, braving the weather like Arctic explorers. The first 'hint' we'd landed in another culture was when a woman emerged from the metro station cussing aloud to no-one in particular. I always notice, when I return to Canada from abroad, the potty-mouths of the people here. It's quite astounding that the "F" word has become common usage in our language. Second reality shock: seeing people actually lying on the sidewalks in that freezing weather. Well...here we are back in the affluent land of Canada surrounded by beggars and homeless folk. We had just come from a country where there is extreme poverty, but frankly it wasn't 'in you face' like it is here. Yes, there are homeless (lots of them) in Santiago. I know because my friend Cecilia feeds the few who 'live' on the park benches near her cafe, and every Christmas Eve she opens up her cafe to cook meals for the poor street people. I also know that in the '70's before the junta, she and Anibal worked in the shanty towns with the poor. And I saw for myself some of the corragated tin shacks and hovels where the poorest of the poor live on the outskirts of Santiago and in Valparaiso. But Chile is a country that has gone through great struggles over the past years and is overcoming them. This is Canada, an affluent land with a supposed democratic government. A country where the rich keep getting richer and there are more and more poor and homeless and desperate people on the streets. (Just saw a TV program on the news last night about this very situation. It's appalling and disgusting what is happening here in my beautiful city, and elsewhere across the country.)

In reflecting on my Chilean travels, we were so impressed with the dignified, courteous manner of the Chileans. There were no obviously 'angry' or distrubed people in the throngs we passed daily. Never once did we feel threatened though people would actually stop us sometimes and reminds us to carry our back-packs in front to avoid thefts. Once a woman even pulled her car up to a stop and called out to us. People CARE about others in Chile.

In all our rides on the metros I was almost always offered a seat. And the crowds getting on the off the train cars were courteous and patient - no pushing and shoving, everyone acting in an orderly fashion. In spite of the poverty, no obvious beggars and spare changers that you get every few feet when you walk the main streets of Vancouver. Only once did we see anything that was distrubing: and that was the night we went late to Baquedano metro station. There was an odd character standing on the corner with a plastic bag over his head (obviously a mentally ill person), and shortly after this weird sight, a guy came off a bus doing karate kicks. The last night in Santiago, again at this metro station, we saw a man lying on the curb (probably drunk). Honestly, that was the only time we encountered this sort of thing which is so common here on our streets. (In Valparaiso, a sea port, which is a little scruffy and run-down in the port area, we did feel a bit wary but nothing actually happened to provoke this.) In general people were very helpful and friendly. There were many acts of kindness and generosity, especially from our gracious hosts, Cecilia and Mommy and their family members who were kind enough to fetch and deliver us to the airport. We were overwhelmed by their hospitality. And my lasting impressions of this beautiful country are all the most pleasant.

There were tears when we had to say goodbye. "Next time stay two or three months!" Cecilia said. Actually we do plan to return, and we will stay longer. She suggested that when we come again she'll travel to the south of Chile with us. That's really something to look forward to!

HOMEWARD BOUND

SUNDAY, Dec 3/06

Our last day, and I'm soaking up the moments, keeping them for memory. I feel sad we are leaving. We have been made to feel so very much part of the family here. We have stayed pretty much at home today, resting up for the long trip home. This morning we stopped in to have a look at the Catholic Cemetary which is on the road near the General Cementario. It's like a big fortress with a high stone wall around it. Inside are incredible tombs, some dating back to the 1800's, and a lot of fancy statuary. There is big chapel inside and a Mass was being performed. The church was full of people and on the streets and inside there were crowds buying flowers (for here and the General Cementary). We bought grandma and Cecilia huge bouquet of orange and yellow lilies and white and blue roses, then went home to spend a quiet day visiting. Cecilia had prepared a delicious steak and vegetable plate for our last special lunch.

At the moment in Santiago there is much rejoicing at the emminent death of the old Pinochet who was taken to the hospital in serious condition this morning, and supposedly is to have a heart surgery any time now (which likely he won't survive). Too bad we'll miss all the joyful street demonstartaions when he finally kicks to the bucket.

"Are you excited to leave?" Cecilia asked
"No. I was excited when I was coming here. I am sad to leave," I replied.

But our time is up. And even the beauitufl Lose Andes came out to say goodbye. It's the clearest we've seen Aconagua since we got here! What a lovely send-off!

Cecilia's brother Enrique came with his car to drive us to the airport along with his lovely wife Marisol. She brought us each a present and we were very touched. Then we all (except Grandma who stayed home to look after gato) got in the car and we headed off for the airport. I have to admit there were tears when we left. We will never forget this wonderful holiday, the generosity and kindess that was shown us and we are forever grateful. "Come back soon and next time stay a longer time," Cecilia said. We certainly will!

LATER

We are in Toronto now, Monday Dec 4, after a very good flight from Santiago. No bumps or scary bits this time, and actually it was quite restful. Doing a bit of sightseeing around Toronto and homeward bound tomorrow. I'll post another blog when I return with recaps of thoughts and things I might have forgotten.
You can be sure, as soon as I can, I'll head back down to Chile!

ADVENTURES IN CHILE: A DAY TRIP TO VALPARAISO

SATURDAY, December 2/06

Today we caught a bus for a daytrip to Valparaiso on the coast. Only 1000 pesos return ($10) on a very nice airconditioned TourCan bus, one of many which run frequently between Santiago and the Coast towns. The hour and half trip heads west through the lush green countryside and coastal hills to the seacoast. Valparaiso (nicknamed La Perla Del Pacifico = the Pearl of the Pacific) is the second most important port in Chile, with a population 260,000. It's considred one of the most uniqure cities in Chile and certainly one of the most unusual. It was named a Unesco World Heritage site in 2003. It could be described as Latin America's San Francisco because most of the city is built on the many 'cerros' (hills) that surround the harbour. The flat city centre, which we found rather shabby and in places run-down, didn't have the grand old buildings that Santiago has and what were there seemed mostly neglected with little restoration evident. Where the city has its charm is on the ceroos.

The hills are so steep you must take an ascensor (funi cular elevator) that creks at 40 degree angles up the hillside. On these cerros, with their labyrinthine roads, houses build on stilts, one on top of the other it seems, some of them new, others crumbling mansion, all of them painted vibrant colours. And then there's the stunning panoramic vistas down across the city rooftops, the scoop of the wide harbour with its navel ships and freighters, and the vast Pacific beyond.

The town has a unique faded grandeur and on some of the cerros, a bohemian charm. (In the lower town, we noticed the many criss-crossed electrical wires , the crumbling pavements, the narrows streets many of which are dirty and run-down. Obviously they lack the constant cleaning crews that sweep the streets clean in Santiago). Some of the cerros house the countries poorest shanty towns, houses made of corrogated tin, many of them ramshackle and ready to cave in. Apparantly petty crime is common in Valparaiso. And here we saw some unsavory characters lurking, felt a bit unnerved at times, which we never did in Santiago. (Perhaps because it's a seaport?)

In the distant past, the city was the first port of call for ships coming round Cape Horn and became a commerical centre and hub of Chile's banking industry. In 1906 a major earhtquake destroyed many of the downtown buildings so only a few of the impressive 19th C. architecture remains. Once the Panama Canal opened, Valparaiso suffered an economic decline and it didn't recover til after WW II. It's still an important port and the navy's presence is an important factor in the city's economy. (Note: don't get caught photographing the naval ships down at the harbour or you may end up in a Chilean prison!) In recent years, Pinochet decided to move the seat of Chile's govenrment to Valparaiso and had a new presidential palace built on property his own family owned. Apparantly the government is (or will be) now moved back to it's original site in Santiago. ***note: the following day, Pinochet was taken to the hospital in serious condition. Aged 90, he is not expected to survive. Before we left there Sunday there were already crowds gathering downtown by the Presidential Palace, waiting to cheer the moment of his death. As yet unpunished for his crimes against the people of Chile, perhaps he'll end up finding the Golden Gates locked when he arrives!)

Patrick and I wanted mostly to see the third house of Pablo Neruda. So we took an ascendor from Espirito Santo up Cerro Bellavista where the house, La Sebastiana, is located. The colourful hodge-podge of houses provided a lot of Kodak moments. We found our way through the maze of narrow lanes to a beauitufl blue and yellow building which we first supposed was the Poet's house. It turned out to be a rather interesting cafe and boutique mall where I did a little more shopping. Then we were directed to where La Sebastiana is located farther up the h ill.

You definitely need a good pair of legs and feet to transverse the cobble and cement byways of the cerros, mostly all uphill by road or steps. People here are very courteous and helpful so in no time we got directed to the right road up the hill. At one point we stopped at a kiosk to buy water and the kindly gold gent who ran the shop brought us out a couple of chairs to sit on under a shadey tree so we could rest awhile before proceeding on our way. The radio was playing a song that Sumalao often plays at the Latin Quarter and I know it was one of Anibal's favorites. So the brief time we spent there on that corner on cerro Bellavista was quite memorable.

Just up the hill a little way farther we located the house. Pablo Neruda didn't spend as much time at La Sebastiana as he did at his other two houses, but he always went there for New Years to watch the annual fireworks from his lookout. The house, which was built by an Italian carpenter named Sebastian (for whom it was named) who Neruda said was a 'poet with wood', like the other houses follows his style of the eccentric layout and the ship motif. The first floor was owned and occupied by two of his friends and the ceiling murals and beautiful stone mosaics were done by the woman, who was an artist. In the lobby are two paintings by Neruda's second wife, w ho was an artist twenty years his senior.

The house of Neruda starts from the second floor, ascending several floors up to the top room which was his study and lookout, with a broad specatacular view of the whole harbour and ocean. Each room in the house is full of the usual trinkets and beauitufl knick knacks he loved to collect and there are some lovely stainedg lass windows. Visitors are given booklets (in your own languat) to read describing the history of each room and the furnishings and objects, and you can wander around at will. No photos of the rooms are allowed but photos of the many vistas are permitted. One of my biggest thrills in this house, as in the others, was to stand by Neruda's desk and look around at what he could see from there when he was writing. In all three houses it was a magnificent view. And surrounding him are all the objects he loved including his books and manuscripts.

After our tour, we tried phoning my friend Hector who was to have arrived in Valparaiso the day before, but he wasn't home, so we decided to walk down the hill back to the city centre. The roads are at such an incline it's dizzying and difficult to walk without feeling like you are tilting forward and falling down and by the end our legs were shaking. (Amazingly, no still muscles the next day!)

We walked along the harbour looking for a cafe and eventually found a funky little diner where we had quite an interesting meal. I wanted fish, and ordered an dish called Chupa, which was a very thick seafood chowder with lots of cheese in it, and a Chilean salad and papas fritas. Patrick had beef dishes. We were both stuff afterwards and by then it was time to head back to the bus depot for the trip back to Santiago.

The ride back was very scenic. We pased by acres and acres of vineyards, olive groves and fruit orchards. The valleys between the green hills of the coast and Santiago are stunningly beautiful.

Once we got back we headed for the supermarket where we had accidently left a bag of groceries the night before. Amazingly, they had recorded in a big log book, all the items left behind by customers, and we were told to get the stuff we'd forgotten from the shelves and it was given back to us. No exctra charge. Would Safeway ever do that? We were so impressed.

This is our last night in Santiago. By this time tomorrow we'll be homeward bound. I'm sorry to leave, but know even the best of times must come to an end.

NEXT: HOMEWARD BOUND

ADVENTURES IN CHILE: Cementario General, The City of the Dead

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 1/06

Christmas music is playing in the malls and there is a festive spirit in the air. It seems odd, in this hot summery weather to see the Christmas decorations up.

We went to the Artisan Market in Banquadano this morning for some last minute gift shopping. Then to Cafe Cecilias for lunch. We took pictures of the crewÑ Cecilia, Mommy, Marisol and Leonardo. Then Cecilia took us for a tour of the Cementario General, a sprawling mtropolis of graes -- really, a city of the dead. La Ciudad de los Muertos. Hundreds and thousands of tombs, some incredibly ornate, mausoleums dating ack tothe early years of Santiago, rows and rows of wals of tomb about 2X2, graves of the poor marked with their plain metal crosses and the ordinary man{s simple grve with modest stones decorated with flowers, artificial and real. Some like mini condos for the dead or aprtment blocks. Quite an incredible sight. Here is the final resting place of political figures and Chilean folk heroes and musicians.

As we entered the cemetary there is a high wall engraved with the thousands of those missing and presumed dead from the 1973 military junta and another triple height long wall containing the tombs of those killed and spcaes for those unidentified dead. A very moving sight in memory of those who were murdered during the military regime of Pinochet. It is called Memorial del Detenido Desparecido y del Ejecileto Politico and was opened in 1994.

We visited the graves of Violetta Parra, a beloved Chilean singer´; the impressive monument and tomb of Salvatore Allende; the mordern metallic engraved sculputre marking the grave of Glady Marin, leader of the Communist Party of Chile who died recently, and far back by the graves of the poor and working class, the simple square red painted 2X2 tomb of the famous folk singer Victor Jara, one of those incarcerated in the stadium along with all the thousands of others that had been rounded up during the junta. When he refused to stop playing his songs for the detainees the soldiers smashed his hands and beat him to death.

It was interesting to note the group of young people, some who wouldnt have even been born in Sept 1973 who had come to pay homage to these national heros. How many thousands of those dead or missing were just the same age as these young men and women, because a great many of them were students.

After this interesting tour, Cecilia had to return to work, so Patrick and I went shopping to a big supermarket in Las Condes to buy some special goodies for Cecilia and grandma. They have been so generous and kind to us and refuse to let us treat them. So we loaded up on groceries that we know they like.

When we got back home Cecilia´s oldest son, Carlos was there so we were privileged to meet him. Cecilia was upset with us for buying her those treats but we insisted we wanted to reciprocate for her generosity. We are going to miss our little ´family´here I am invited Ceciia to come and stay with me a few days if she decides to come to Canada next summer. I told her we´d get into mischief!

NEXT: A TRIP TO VALPARAISO AND THE POET´S #3 HOUSE

ADVENTURES IN CHILE; BACK IN SANTIAGO, THE KISSING CITY

THURSDAY, NOV. 30/06

Here we are back in Santiago Chile, which I have dubbed the ¨Kissing City¨because one thing that has impressed us since arriving here were the numbers of times each day, everywhere you go - in parks, on park benches, on the grass under shady trees, on the street, the metro, the bus...absolutely everywhere, there are couple (young and old) embracing and tenderly kissing. It´s a lovely sight to see and lends a very beautiful, personal atmosphere to this otherwise bustling city.

Our return trip from Mendoza, Argentina was spectacular. The bus came on a different route through the Andes than on our first trip. All the way along we were gawking out the windows, snapping dozens of photos of the amazing scenery. It was a warm, clear day, blue skies and no clouds sheltering the snow caps. It turned out we actually passed by Puente del Incas where we´d intended to go yesterday, although we couldn´t see the Ínca bridge´from the bus. Later on, coming down from the highlands on the twisty ´carocal´´ highway, we reached the green lush valley where herds of hores grazed. I saw several groups of pack horses all geared up and ready for their mountain treks. Eventually after passing through a very long tunnel we were at the Chilean frontier.

There is good security but little hassle at the border crossings here. They have sniffer dogs and lots of police patrols, but there is none of the tension and paranoia you meet at American borders. We had to give up the left over fruit from our lunches but that was about it. Otherwise we passed through with no problem, everyone being friendly, calm and polite.

Later we passed by the town of Los Andes which was founded in 1791 by Ambrosio O´Higgins, viceroy of Peru. The town is near the spectacular ski runs of Portillo near the Argentine border and is noted as the home fo two famous women; Nobel Prize winning poet Gabriel Mistral who taught here for a time, and Saint Teresa de los Andes, a Carmelite nun beatified in 1993.

Back in Santiago by 4 p.m. and happy to be ´home´´ again with our ´family´who were excited to see us so we were greeted by lots of hugs and kisses.

We are down to our last few days now and feel sad that soon we´ll be leaving. The next couple of days will be devoted to seeing some more sights and shopping and on Saturday we plan a day trip to Valparaiso. Tomorrow Cecilia says she´ll tour us around the General´s Cematery near her house where Allende is buried and there is a memorial to the disappeared.

NEXT; More about Santiago

ARGENTINA: THE BEST LAID PLANS...

WED. NOV 29/06

Okay..the best laid plans...We got up early this morning planning a day trip to the Andes to see Puente del Inca, which is four hours from here. It´s a natural geological formation called "Bridge of the Incas" because they believe this was the farthest point south in the Andes that the Inca people migrated.

Unfortunatey, our plans went astray when (1) we couldn´t flag a cab. (2) the bus driver said he was going to the terminal when in fact he wasn´t, and we ended up in an entirely different direction out in the suburbs of Goday Cruz. We had no idea where in heck we were or how to get back and furthermore had no change for the bus and couldn´t find a shop to provide us with any. This is an on going hassle here - nobody has coins. Patrick said probably the reason we´ve not seen any beggars is that nobody has change to give them. (Eventually, later that morning, we went to a bank to change some bills and even the bank was short of change.) It reminded me of what it was like Greece during the ´80´s - nobody could provide change ( a good way of overcharging) and consequently I recall sneaking lots of rides on trolleys with less than required for the fares. Anyway, we eventually got back into town (the driver let us on with what coins we had) and we decided to go for a walk to the big Central Park of Mendoza - San Martin Park.

We had actually had pased right by it on the bus returning to Mendoza but didn´t get off, so we had to walk about 10 blocks or more back, however it offered an opportunity to explore some differet areas of the city including the posh residential area bordering the park.

San Martin Park was designed by using English, French and Italian traditions to develop the 400 hectares which includes rose gardens, a park lake, a museum of Natural Science, a zoo, amphitheatre and a football stadium. It is said to have around 500,000 trees of various species including palms, plane tress and various flowering shrubs.

After our park stroll we stopped at an Italian restaurant-bodega for our lunch. It was another gourmet treat although I had to pass on the wine because of my touchy digestion. I ordered an appetizer plate of proscuitto and provolone cheese and a main entree of lasagne neopolitan. It only cost about $8. for the meal including tip.

We came back to the hotel footsore and exhausted and decided to have a nap (all sensible folk here opt for the afternoon siesta) and later we went out to walk around, stopped in at the super market to stock up on goodies for the long bus ride back to Santiago tomorrow. I enjoy visiting super markets in other cities . This one as excellent and had shelves and shelves of wines and liquor as well. (The one we went to in Santiago was just as nice as any I´ve been in, quite exclusive in fact.)

We actually visited the local McDonald´s tonight and I had a big Mac which tasted fine - good Argentine beef. (the meds I got for the touristas seems to have worked okay). And after the blogging we´ll head back to the Plaza and do some last minute shopping from the craft market vendors. Tomorrow it´s up and away early for the 7 hour bus trip back to Santiago. Hopefully we´ll not mess up in the transport to the depot t his time and will make our connections on time! Hasta luego. More to come from my adventures in Chile. Maybe I´ll even spot those elusive condors on the trip back!

ARGENTINA: VISITING THE WINE COUNTRY

TUESDAY, NOV 28/06

MENDOZA: Gran Mendoza is the regional metropolis of the Cuyo Area of Argentina. It is the most important city in the west of Argentina and one of the most affluent with a wide cultural, commercial and industrial development and of course all those vineyards producing the country´s best wine.

The distant view of the Andes, thelarge swathes of green spaces and tress on every street create a beautiful natrual and urbanlandscape. Mendoza is laid out flat so it make it easy and pleasant for strolling on the neatly paved avenues which are lined with restaraunts, shopping malls, street markets and many well kept hotels.

The viticulture regions arund Mendoza include Goday Cruz, Guaymallen, Maipu and Lujan de Curyo. There are hundreds of wine cellars that welcoome tourists and also a number of museums and historic sites. The area produces grapes of the highest quality because of the exceptional landscape and climate conditions.

THE VINEYARDS

Today we headed out early for a visit to the National Wine Museum at Maipu, a small town abut 16 k. from Mendoza. We managed to find our way by local bus, the only hassle being that they require exact change fare and it is nearly impossible here to get (and keep) small change in coins. Some kindly passengers contributed to what we didn´t have and were very helpful showing us where to get off the bus. From the highway it was a short walk down a tree-lined lane to find the Museum. There are tours (free!) at various times so we didn´t have long to wait.

It was an interesting tour explaiing the history of wine making in Mendoza. The first vines were brought from Italy in the 1700´s by an Italian named Felipe and now the vineyard (San Felipe) has over 250 acres of vines. The entire production from old times til now was explained by the guide, a fascinating and interesting tour, seeing the wine making equipment and giant vats and hearing how the various wines are produced. After the tour you get to taste some of the vino tinto and cabernet savignon which they don´t export. I bought a couple of bottles to keep for a special occasion.

After the tour we went back down the road to a very appealing little bodega we had spotted earlier. This turned into a fabulous meal extravaganza, and all for 25 pesos including the tip )which is about $7.50)

This was a day for remembering Roberto Hallberg, my soul-brother and Gemini friend who I spent so much time with during my stays in Athens. He, like Anibal, was an exile from his country due to the military junta in 1978 and always longed to return. He spoke constantly about his country and in particular regaled us with stories of the great wine they had in Argentina. This day brought back so many fond memories of him. Robbie always raved about the food, and food service in his country. He would often cook for me when I was away at lessons, and when I returned home he´d produce thee marvelous gourmet meals served like they did át home´ So today it was a feast to honour Robbie. First, the salad bar which was offered free and had a wide variety of salads and relishes´; next we were served baskets of delicious warm sliced bread, then plates with 3 types of sausages: one plain, one stuffed blood sausage and one I´m certain was pig´s tail (a bit too chewy for my liking). Next came a plate of hot little pastries stuffed with spicey ground meat; then a dish witha piece of veal and a tender slice of beef steak followed by a plate with pork. All the while we were reminded to fill up at the salad bar Finally, a dessert which was half a pear and half a peach with a dollop of caramel syrup on them I had a glass of good red wine with my meal. We were amazed at the service and the elegant way it was prepared (just like Robbie used to prepare meals). I talked about him to Patrick while we dined. I really felt his spirit there today and felt sad to think he never lived long enough to share this adventure with me. Nor, like Anibal, did he ever return to his beloved country, but died of cancer in Athens six years ago.

The only thing that spoiled our wine tasting morning and the fabulous feast at the bodega was when I suddenly got an attack of touristas. Oh my god! What a problem that ended up causing me all day. How embarassing and inconvenient. I wondered how I´d make it back to the city and our hotel and actually I didn´t. It was all quite a disaster. Patrick had some pills on him and I hoped they´d help but it was quite a long seige. Eventually we did get back to Mendoza, took a cab from the bus depot to the hotel. Cleaned up, got some meds at the pharmacy and took a chance of going off to find a craft market we wated to visit. Got there OK and did some shopping, then had to hurry back to the hotel.

Eventually the attacks began to lessen and we went out to stroll in Independence Plaza, a lovely park across from our hotel. There were lots of craft stands set up there, better marchandise than the market we had been to, so we did more shopping for Christmas gifts and souveniers. (I forgot to mention that just before I had gone shopping in one of the many terrific shoe stores they have here and got myself some nice pant boots for only $30. This really is a shoppers paradise and the shops are full of beautiful, stylish clothes and shoes.)

Then, back to the hotel for a good nights sleep and hopefully an end to the stomach troubles as in the morning we plan a trip to the Andes.

NEXT: LOS ANDES and Puente del Inca