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Down the cliff, a night-lit city spread before us. Above in the star-studded sky, bats swept through the spotlights. Within, there were only three of us, travelers raiding a silent fortress. We crept about the shadows, discovering the silence of an overcome fortress, and when daylight rose, we left toward a theatre; one of the largest, most grandiose and well preserved of the antiquities. Upon the very top of its limestone steps, the singular pluck of a violin reached our ears soundly while various tongues bellowed in a one-minute fame of limelight.

Beheld By Rebellious Mythos: The Peloponnese

Camron Karsten
2006-10-07 12:45:57

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our soaring strings back down from the sky.
As we perused the layout of Ancient Olympia, we came upon Pleidias’ workshop where he sculpted the 12-meter statue of Zeus, one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. Its interior partially roped off, I walked up its steps to discover a pool of rainwater in the center of
the fallen walls. “A swimming pool,” I remarked as the day’s rain had saturated the soils. “And a toilet!”
Mankind, both in glory and disgrace, overcame me. Having emerged into the building, my eyes fell upon the large puddle and then expanded round the room. At the far right corner, as though invisible amidst the masses of visitors come to take advantage of the free entrance on World Tourism Day (and Josh’s birthday), a woman was squatting over the remains of a Doric column.
“And a toilet!” My voice startled this woman, who quickly at the turn of my gaze pulled up her pants and hopped the rope, disappearing into her tour group’s crowd. The three of us were shocked and bade her her undeserved privacy until we were sure Thee Who Pees on Zeus was forever gone.
“Wow,” Josh thought dumbstruck. “She just peed where Zeus was built.”

We laughed. We thought of ways to patronize her: Carry a sign behind her over her head with the words Zeus Defiler, follow her with phantasmagoric facial expressions that reveal our knowledge of her sin or make public her shame by sounding an alarm from our lips and pointing feverously at her. In the end, we let it go, sought both glory and acceptance, recognizing the misfortunes of mankind and continued onward.

The Peloponnese, with its magic, mystique, its tragedy and its myth took us, bewitched three Washingtonians, and turned our Greek travels into unrivaled adventure. From silenced fortresses in the calm of night to indulging in the many brief concerts within a theatre of acoustic virtuosity, we filled our journals’ pages. Camping outside Sparta, fresh and dried fruits for free, donkey rides and witnessing the awe in the awful of mankind’s potential, we were grateful for this magic.