Travel and Living- Chapter 3-A place under the sun---Greece

From a miserable, dark, grey sky to a bright yellow blue sky, this is how the city of the Gods, Athens, welcomed us. Greece had always been on my mind and landing on the land, for real, was an ethereal experience for me. The land of Alexander the great, the land of Apollo the Sun God, the land of Aphrodite the Goddess of love, beauty! A forbidden mystical world for me had suddenly become more realistic and I was in complete awe of it! Greece is a country which is made up of 7000 islands but only 300 of them are inhabited. It is a country which is patriarchal in nature. It has about 24 monasteries which are followers of Orthodox Christianity. Except for the all women monasteries, these Orthodox monasteries are forbidden for women.

Day 1: Delphi

If you love the mountains and its hair pin country roads, then you are in for a treat here. I loved everything about the journey from the hotel to the site of Delphi. The vast stretches of Olive trees, the deep plunging gorges, the array of similar looking houses on the mountain slopes, the archaeological remains of past grandeur here and there, the sound of the falling and crashing of the water from the mountain streams, the daunting mountains rising above our heads! I have been to a collection of mountainous places, but the thought of scaling the heights of Alexander the great and the like, made this place and Greece on a whole relatively more special. I am not a history buff, but you don’t have to be a history geek to appreciate the beauty of this place. Standing on the remains of the ‘Temple of Apollo’ gave me a sense of euphoria and ecstasy. A mortal among the immortals! A sanctuary in the arms of nature’s breadth taking beauty, surrounded by the tall Parnassus mountains, almost 600 ft. above sea level, with rocky bald patches and a seamless green Olive trees horizon, complete with a small stream which promises of a legendary ‘water of youth’, Delphi is definitely a place to be. And if you want to have a traditional Greek meal after the enchanting visit, then ‘Gala Delphi’, a small traditional looking yet inviting restaurant is the place.

Day 2: Thessaloniki

Our day started with an early morning flight to Thessaloniki. We were greeted by a charming Macedonian lady, Dimitra. Yes we booked a private taxi as we made this trip in a not so tourist season. Infact, tourism in Greece picks up from May onwards and continues till August. So soon we were on our way to Vergina. Set in the foothills of Mount Pieria, Vergina is the home of tombs for the Greek Kings something similar to the pyramids of the Egyptians. It is said that it contains the tomb of King Phillip II, father of Alexander the great. It is said that Alexander’s mother, Olympias wanted her son to become the emperor. It was a formidable wish which could only be realised through the death of the present king. So she conspired, the murder of the king and her husband by recruiting one of the king’s bodyguards, on the day of her daughter, Cleopatra’s wedding. The grandeur of the Greek Royalty can be seen here in the tombs turned museums. The site is located beneath the earth with a Doric style entrance. It was planned by the Greeks in a way to preserve the remains of their Kings, Queens and their descendants in order to preserve the legacy. Unlike the Egyptians where they mummified the bodies, the Ancient Greeks always cremated the bodies of their Royals. Then they used to find the remaining bones, wash them with red wine, put them inside urns and then build tombs. Even today the tradition of digging out the remains of the bodies after burial and washing them with red wine and then reburying them is a Greek tradition. Also like the Egyptians, ancient Greeks used to bury food, jewellery, and four live horses along with the bodies for service through the after live. It was fascinating to see the level of intricate décor the headboards of the bed had. From gold leaves and flowers to chryselephantine designs. The enchanting display in the museum to the engaging narration of Dimitra, this trip to Vergina was not only riveting but also enriching. The gold wreaths, the gold urns, the remains of the objects buried for afterlife, the fragments of the tapestry used, the terracotta toys, the armoury of the kings, the bewitching frescos on the façade of the tombs and the feeling and emotions of the Greek Archeologist, Manolis Andronikos, Vergina had it all, especially for my husband who is a part time history buff commonly mistaken as a history professor.

We then moved on to Pella which was the capital of the ancient Macedon. The road to Pella from Vergina is another treat for the eyes. The rising snow-capped peaks of Mount Olympus in the horizon to pink cherry blossoms on either sides of the roads, from unending stretches of Olive trees to the bright blue sky, it was a journey well made. Pella was a port in ancient times and was well connected with the Thermaic Gulf. It was the Royal residence. The level of aristocracy enthralled us with the amount of area each room covered completed with white and grey pebble mosaics depicting different themes. The Greek baths also donned this archaeological site. The Greek baths were a bit different from the Roman baths. Roman baths have a common place of bath which is a circular bath tub with everyone sitting inside communally. However, Greek baths had separate rectangular soaking areas with a small cylindrical plunging hole at the end of each for dunking in the feet. There was also an underground system for purifying drinking water in the site. With the outlet a little raised than the inlet for the sedimentations to settle down. As we headed towards the airport to catch a flight back to Athens, we caught a glimpse of the throne of Zeus in the distant horizon. An arc shaped peak amid two high rising triangles.

Day 3: Rhodes

The day started with an early morning flight to the island of Rhodes. Situated in yet another picturesque location, Rhodes is house to one of the country’s biggest butterfly parks. A small water fall cuts through the entire perimeter of the park with a wooden bridge here and there. Set in the midst of a lovely green forest, this butterfly park is swarmed with millions of butterflies in the summer months. Since we were a bit early for these tiny visitors, yet we could imagine the veracity of the flurry population that would inhabit this place in a month’s time. It is said if you come to this place with a white t-shirt on, then by the end of the day it would be a colour wash. The spectacularity of this idea made us think of a revisit to this place soon! Anyway, Rhodes is famous historically for the Colossus of Rhodes, one of the Seven Wonders of the World. A giant statue which once donned the gateway to the harbour can be seen in the museum nearby. It also houses the Palace of the Grand Master of Rhodes. ‘Rhoda’ a typical pink flower inhabits this island. Whether the Acropolis in Lindos, or the site of ancient Kamiros, the island of Rhodes is a must visit place if you want to see more of the medieval times in Greece. The walk to the Acropolis in Lindos is absolutely stunning. A bit of a trekking in the periphery of the simmering blend of the blue and sea green water of the Aegean Sea is the most fascinating experience I can remember. A view of the white walls of the houses on the fringe of the volcanic mountains commemorating with the blue sky in the horizon is enticing ad infinitum.

Day 4 and 5: Athens

There is more to Athens than the mammoth Parthenon. The lively street life, the small cafes spilled across the streets, the flea markets in every corner, the shops swarming with colourful souvenirs, stores with dangling leather bags and shoes. Everywhere you turn is life what you see. It was very unlikely given the current condition of the economy. But tourism is what is sustaining the country as a whole. So everywhere you see are people who want to make ends meet hence, genuine welcomes is what you see in their eyes. Freshly coated white walls, to decked up yachts in the harbour, I loved everything about Greece. The capital was no different. Half of the country’s population squatters this capital city with an addition of all the visiting tourists. Hence, the streets are a bit crowded. But we did not mind the crowd because we crave to see people in the place where we live. Athens has been the capital of Greece since 1834 and is surrounded by four mountains. Multinational cuisines daunt the capital city along with the traditional Greek cuisines. The change of guards in front of the Syntagma or the Parliament square is another thing to watch for. It is not very elaborate like you might find in the Buckingham Palace in London; however, the costume of the guards to the leg and foot movements is what makes this a class apart. It is said that there are approximately 400 pleats on the dresses that these guards wear. The Archaeological sites in Athens are situated quite closely, hence, a walking tour is the best way to explore the lanes and the by lanes of the city.

Day 6: Mykonos  

The island of Mykonos can be reached by a 4 hours ferry ride. It is a lovely journey to be made among the islands. Mykonos is also called as the ‘Ibiza of Greece’ given the vibrant night life, the beach front swarming with little cafes and eateries serving traditional Greek delicacies. The view of surreal sun gently disappearing in the prodigious Aegean Sea from the windmills is a feast for the eyes. One can also have a panoramic view of the town or ‘Chora’ after sunset with the lights illustrating an out of the world experience. The neighboring island of Dalos is just 2 kms away and is also a good place to visit. Mykonos is said to be the ‘Jerusalem of the Pagans’. We had rented a place here for a day to get a feel of the prominent night life in Mykonos. Set amongst the many white washed walls with blue windows, our apartment opened up to the striking view of the blue waters of the Aegean Sea with an occasional view of the white sails of a faraway yacht drifting idly in the middle of nowhere. Probably what we were savouring from the coast, it was emancipating from the sea. 

Day 7: Santorini

Even at first glance, Santorini was an island which stood apart with aloof dignity. Although the whole of Greece is marked with nonpareil beauty, yet this island eliminated an ethereal power of mesmerizing anyone. Set on top of a volcanic isle, home to the world famous 300m high Caldera cliffs that plummet into the Aegean Sea, this classic Greek white walls with a blue dome island emits more colours than meets the eyes. A bit of exploring around and you will notice the burnt orange and blood red, royal purple and butter yellow, electric green and pastel pink. Santorini’s porous volcanic soil provides a sanctuary for vineyards. It also helps in providing the island with a kaleidoscope of colourful flowers, bushes and grasses. A local bus ride from the town of Fira to the town of Oia will give you a vantage point in catching a glimpse of these wildflowers dotted landscape. The winding roads along the coastline of the Aegean Sea with stunning patches of the landscape are not only serene but also unbelievably magnetizing.   

Day 8 and 9: Crete

The last leg of our riveting Greece trip ended in the largest and the most populous Greek island of Crete. Crete is a mountainous island with numerous small islands, islets and rocks hugging the coastline. The island has a number of gorges too. But we chose to stick to the mainland Crete and its harbour, the Port of Heraklion. The climate was very typical Mediterranean type with crystal clear water and warm wind blowing into the land from the sea. Thronged with scores of eateries and shops, the harbour front is the most sought after place in the island. Very similar to Athens, the Archaeological sites in Crete are situated quite closely hence, a walking tour will suffice the need. Lastly, wrapping up the trip included a classic Greek starter of Chicken Souvlaki with Greek Yogurt followed by Grilled Chicken with baby potatoes and Greek Salad and ending the meal with a vanilla strawberry mousse with chilled ‘Raki’, an unsweetened, anise flavoured alcoholic drink thereby solemnizing the eternal trip to Greece!!!

Blame the fish!!

If there is anything more divine than God himself then it is the game of cricket in India. Do not believe a politician or a religion driven fanatic when he says India is divided because of religion. Cricket is the biggest religion in India and it does not divide the nation, rather it brings the whole country together. So as the cricket world cup took its semi-final lap and the Indian Gods of cricket took the center stage, the country waited with bated breath for the final outcome. A long day for the diaspora spread across continents. A day which would keep the Gods busier than ever leaving little room for any recreation. If someone says that believing in superstitions is a thing of the past, then he has to observe an Indian watching his team play the game of cricket. From chanting every known Vedic mantras, to letting go of nature’s call, from staking all that you love to the almighty to wearing the same t-shirt through all the matches, superstitions can have a whole new meaning to it. I remember as a young girl I used to fold little tabs of paper with a ‘Yes’ and a ‘NO’ written on it. Make a quiet prayer to the supremo and take the leap of faith; India will win or India will lose! All this stagecraft for the ultimate Holy Grail, the sacrosanct win for the country. Well patriotism had a new definition when a game of cricket was on!

Indians have always been superstitious. No wonder an otherwise purposeless vagabond rock will get a wreath of flowers if it is kept idle for too long under a Peepal tree. A whole place of worship comes up around this ‘rock’ with people flocking with little pots of milk and a basket full of flowers. Keep it longer, and a temple comes up. Give it some more time and it will be among the major attractions for the town. What is more amazing is the protest that follows if the administration tries to intervene and dislodge it. The fear of evoking the wrath of the gods with the purging of a vagabond rock is not only alarming but also amusing.

So, if a rock can arouse such intense feeling, just imagine what cricket would. Hence, when the ‘Champions’ came in to play their semi-final against the second champions, the entire exodus of Indians were glued to their television sets. Raising the expectation of the masses was the ‘Fish’s’ prediction for the Indian win. Yes, you heard it right, ‘a fish’. Can it be more bizarre than that? After all the tarot card readers, the astrologers, the ‘Bejan Daruwalas’, the neumerologists, it was now the turn of the scaly being. I was beguiled by this piece of queer news to the extent of actually falling off my chair with hysterical laughter.

So the match was played with the entire nation hanging in anticipation to every ball bowled. Anyway, no matter how many prayers were said and how many hands were joined, at the end of the day the best team won. No fish and no prayers could salvage the poor performance of the Indian team.

But in spite of the glaring reality, we Indians have an underlying consistent frame of attitude, popularly known as the ostrich attitude. We think if we stick our heads in the ground, and continue believing what we have been believing then the reality won’t change. Hence, although the team’s performance was not up to the mark yet we blamed the woman. Why? Because since Chanakyan times, men have always believed that if a man does well then it is because of his own demeanor and valor whereas if he fails to perform his duty and goes down just because he was having a bad day, then it must be a woman who is to be blamed. Whether a delayed promotion or a freak accident, an excess of ordered food in the restaurant or a failed marriage, whatever the cause but the obvious reason, ‘the woman’. How unconvincingly feeble this thought is that we blame ‘the woman’ for the poor performance of ‘her man’! She was as much shocked at the performance as any of you are. She is as much Indian as any of you are. Was she playing the game, no; was she backing the opponent, no. Then how is she responsible? I fail to understand the mind-set of a certain section of the Indian society who is so swift in passing judgments and blaming women for all that is bad! I mean she did not even ‘predict’ the victory of the Indian team in the semi-finals. In fact, the fish did, so why not blame the fish, instead!!

The Little Yellow Flower on the Window Sill

A gloomy day or a starry night I stare out through glassy eyes

I see and wonder what is the world like beyond the forbidden high

A doubt in my mind keeps popping up once in a while

Is this life good or just an illusion bright

The green meadows in the horizon call me with open arms

The cascading water of the stream sparkles with an enchanting charm

The murmur of the bees around makes a symphony of myriad sounds

The languid desultory donkey has no happiness bounds

As I see the carefree butterflies drifting in the wind

And smell the dulcet fragrance of the spring

I float into the ethereal world of exuberant felicity

Everywhere I see is serendipity and serendipity

Soon the penchant for a free life is engulfed in clouds of fear

Can I embrace the pain of wear and tear

The wind ripping me apart or the donkey munching me

The apathy of the bees or the brutality of the stream

Life is not always an incandescent halcyon

A placid river with resplendent sheen

It can slaughter dreams with a soundless shrill

Let me be a little yellow flower on the window sill 

Flour, Butter and Whisk-Part 2

So with the introductory disaster, gathering up my wits to bake for the second time, proved a more daunting challenge than I had anticipated. My friend, Indrani, who was a trained chocolatier and a baker, asked me to give it another try. She said of the like “success is most often achieved by those who do not know that failure is inevitable.” I told her that she was quoting, Coco Chanel. So she turned around, gave me a hint of a smug and said with her hands throwing up in the air dramatically, “the highest purpose of intellectual cultivation is to give a man a perfect knowledge and mastery of his own inner self!” Okay, she was quoting again but that wasn't a bad speech after all. However, I don’t know whether it was her inspirational speech or my zeal to prove to my mom that I wasn’t that bad, gave me a renewed enigma of hope. But this time, I was determined about not deploying a premixed mixture. Probably I thought it wasn’t made for my level of expertise!

Anyway, since I wasn’t sure from where to start, I turned back to the most reliable source of information, ‘You Tube’. But, the most reliable source, had a barrage of choices to offer, and my head was spinning by the end of the day. Spirits dampened, motivation deluged, and reality setting in with a looming question, where do I start from?

I settled for the basic sponge cake recipe, more so, because it was the easiest of all.

So, now that the recipe was marked, the next probable step was to get hold of all the ingredients. Now, remember my first tryst with the whole cake making business started with a premixed mixture; hence, I wasn’t quite sure of what actually goes into the cake. Yes, I had seen my mom baking, but, who cares about the foreplay, I was interested only in the end result.

Finally, that all the ingredients were in place, I was ready to get ‘my hands dirty’! So, in went the components one by one and finally my batter was ready. I gave it a quick mix with the ‘whisk’, pulled it up to check the consistency. Satisfied with the viscosity of the batter, I lined the baking tray with stripes of butter, and dashed it with some flour and poured my batter into it. As before, I wasn’t giving myself an invisible pat on my back or silently congratulating myself on my accomplishment. Rather I sent a quiet prayer above, put my baking tray inside the oven, and hoped it wasn’t a disaster, again.

I was nervously tramping back and forth the entire perimeter of my kitchen, biting my nails off, hoping this wasn’t the end of my baking adventure. My cake had been baking for about 15 min now. I was calling Indrani every 5 minutes giving her a live telecast of the bake. Her reassuring words were falling in deaf ears. My mind was busy procrastinating the degree of the catastrophe!!  Finally, I smelled the cake. A sweet aroma which was so indulging in itself that I could drop all my work, and wait impatiently to dig in. An aroma which could make anyone feel better about the world.

I was fretfully hovering in front of the oven, waiting restlessly for my cake to cool down inside the oven, before bringing it out and checking on it. The 20 minutes wait was making me jittery and anxious. Probably it was the longest 20 minutes of my life. Finally, the interminable wait was over. There was a sudden mood of frenzy and magic all around the room as I opened the oven door. The billowing smell of crystallised sugar and flour still lingered in the air like jet trails. And then there was the smell; the smell of hope and fulfillment, the kind of smell that brought people home, the smell that had the imminent strength of swiping people off their feet.   

As I sliced the cake, the hedonistic pleasure that I was deriving with each slice, was inundating me from within. I was so swamped up in the feeling of accomplishment and gratification, that I was carried away into a state of oblivion. As I took the first bite, time stopped. I simply closed my eyes and let the cake melt in my mouth. And as it did, realisation of the extent of indulgence that ‘baking’ brought in my mom, suddenly seemed meaningful. 

Flour, Butter and Whisk-Part 1

What do you think when you hear the three words: Flour, butter and whisk? Well certainly ‘Cake’. What did I think when I heard these words: waste of time.

Being a baker wasn’t always a word in my dictionary. I found baking a waste of time when there were a plethora of choices in the stores. I remember as a young girl, I would see my mother with earnest intent removing her pots and pans from the rack to reveal her baking bowl from behind, eyes brightly shining up to the view, putting it down carefully on the work top and getting ready to get her hands dirty. She would then take out the ingredients one by one: flour, butter/oil, sugar, vanilla, ‘the whisk’, and finally a war cry, ‘today is cake day’! I wondered what was so mystical about this that would make my mom, an otherwise earthly being, transform into a creepy, out of the world anthropoid the moment she saw her ‘baking bowl’. I wondered what was so indulging in ‘baking a cake’! Whether it was a birthday celebration, or a night before travel, baking always transformed my mom. And I wondered!!

Often my mom would be whining and reiterating as to why I do not sit down, and learn the ‘art of baking a cake’. I would in turn yell, like any other teenager, ‘I have better things to do than bake a cake Mom’!!What better things, well that is a separate topic of discussion, altogether. She would say that one day I would be having kids and if they wanted to eat some home baked cakes then what would I do? I said, ‘who cares’…

I remember the first time I attempted in testing my baking skills, I promptly went to the baking store, got myself a premixed cake mixture and walked home feeling accomplished. Reaching home I enthusiastically took out ‘My Baking Bowl’ and sat down to mix. We had recently got a convection microwave and I thought what better way to test the feature than 'Bake a cake'! It isn’t that difficult after all, is it!! So I gave the mixture a good mix in the blender, poured some milk into it, added some chocolate chips and Voila!! My cake batter was ready to go into the oven!! I had followed the ‘method of preparation’ on the carton quite diligently. No room for any mistakes. So off to the next step; greased the pan, smeared it with streaks of butter, and dusted it with some flour. Then I poured in the batter into the pan, with a slight hesitation of whether the batter was right as it was a bit too runny. But soon I fanned away my fears and gave myself an invisible pat on my back for this accomplishment, and placed the pan inside the oven. Temperature set, time noted, a job well done!!!

My cake had been baking for almost 30 min when I emerged from behind a book to inspect on the progress. It was a moment of truth, my moment of truth. Moment that would put all fears of my mom, to rest. Moment that would hereby prove that I am not a lousy baker after all.

Even before I entered the living room I could smell something burning. And since there wasn’t anything cooking apart from the cake, it was quite obvious what was. The living room was filled with smoke. I quickly turned off the microwave, and waited patiently for the heat to subside so that I could further on the inspection and introspect what could have possibly gone wrong with my batter, and my cake!! I did everything by the book, then, what possibly could have gone wrong? As I removed the pan from the oven, the room was again filled with smoke. I slowly took out the baking tray and all that I saw was a black, burnt, mass. Cake!!Not even near it!! The living room smelled of burnt cake the entire week, and I proved a lousy baker. However, I opined and it stayed, ‘cake from a store is much better than baking one’…Sigh!!!