At the Acropolis

The Parthenon

Last night, I decided that today I would go to the Acropolis. I've been working on these pages for awhile now and all this effort has helped reinforce my loyalty to Athena. So, I decided that I ought to pay a visit to her temples on the sacred rock (hieros brakhos) and feel closer still to her. I've lived in Athens for five years but in all my life I had visited that place, which I regard more sacred than all others, only twice. Sometimes we become so focused on the trivialities of life on Earth that we forget to raise our head and gaze at the eternal beauty which is only a few steps away from us. Anyway, I decided that this day, a glorious summer day of Attica, would be dedicated to the goddess.

It was the first time I would go there alone. I just needed to experience myself without any distractions, even the comments of adoration that my friends might offer. I wanted to see what the place would mean to me, in the most simple and honest way. I look at Athena on the computer screen or in pictures in books; I read her words and the words of her believers on paper but I don't have the direct experience of really being at a place where she dwelt. So, I would go to the Acropolis and stand in front of the Parthenon and listen to the wind, and leave my time and go back to the 5th century when the brilliant edifices we now see in ruin had just been erected.

It was 6pm when I left my house. I had previously bathed and put on some fresh clothes; it is important to be respectful of holy places. I stepped off the bus a few hundred meters short of the foot of the hill where the climbing staircase begins. It was a brilliant afternoon, the pavement reflected the heat of the sun and there were not many people on the street. To my right were the planted olive-trees that have existed there for millenia. Empty tourist buses lined up the street; their passengers had already gone being probably at the same place I was heading toward.

The paved climb up the western slope passes through olive trees. The sounds of crickets filled my ears. Tourists of every nationality and every race went by me; some were solemn and silent - others talked passionately about what they had just seen. I arrived at the entrance of the Propylaea, went in (being a student, I didn't have to pay which was a pleasant surprise) and faced the magnificent entrance of the Acropolis complex.

The first thing that caught my eye was an inscription on a piece of masonry. I tried to read it but it was not very clear so I gave up the effort. I just looked at the letters, trying to imagine of the scribe who had printed them so long ago. I was mesmerized, the moment I passed through the gate. There is a steep climb from the ticket control booth to the Propylaea and you immediately find yourself surrounded by tall columns. The architecture tells you that this place is holy (hieron) and causes you to leave impure bebêlos thoughts behind. At the Propylaea there was a tourist who was having his picture taken, posing as Atlas; he seemed to be holding the buildings on his two raised hands. I kept on climbing, stopping momentarily to look at the temple of Athena Nike on my right. I couldn't get too close to the temple and anyway it was encased in protective scaffolding as most of the buildings are these days. I did get a good luck at the elegant Ionic columns for which this building is famous for.

Through the gate, walking on the fake wooden floor and onto the Acropolis plateau. The Parthenon rose to my right but I didn't look at it yet. I needed more time to acquaint myself with my surroundings. I went to the left side and peered at Athens below. It was a clear smogless afternoon and the visibility was excellent. The Agora spread beneath the wall and the temple of Athena and Hephaistos, known as the Theseion stood in the midst of thick vegetation. It is one of the most well preserved temples of antiquity. I left the edge and went back towards the other side, the right side, temporarily seeing the Karyatids on the Erechtheion to my left. At the other side I could see the theatre of Herod Atticus, known as the Herôdeion. Some musicians were having a rehearsal there, one of them played something on the cello. I could also see the sea at the distance, the evening sun reflecting against its peaceful blue surface into a million fragments of light.

I moved towards the Parthenon and stood facing it from the right side. I'm so used to seeing it in small pictures that it looked big to my eyes. I had previously overheard another tourist commenting that it was small. I acknowledged that in fact it was the right size, and that was part of its magnificence. I looked at the small architectural details that have survived to this day. I saw the marks left by Lord Elgin's thieving hands and felt a temporary sense of anger but it passed away. Even wounded, the Parthenon looks incredible. I proceeded to the other side where I could get a better look at the inside. There is a crane inside these days and fallen pieces of marble which will one day be used to partly re-construct the temple. Somewhere inside that place was the statue of Athena Parthenos by Phidias. I closes my eyes and brought a mental picture of it to my head. The sun shone threw the columns and blinded me as I kept watching the temple. Then I went on towards the East side where the Greek flag flies. My house is somewhere in that direction but no amount of effort could let me discern it. So, I sat by the flag for awhile as the wind blew all around me.

There is a great story about the greek flag on the Acropolis. When the Germans invaded Athens in 1941, after the Greeks had defeated the Italians and held the German onslaught for a few days, a Greek soldier seeing that the enemy would go to the Acropolis and raise the Swastika where the white and blue flag flew, he decided that he would not see this desecration. He brought down the flag, covered himself with it and fell off the Acropolis killing himself. Aigeus had once fallen from the Acropolis at the sight of his son's ship returning from Crete with black sails. Two Greek patriots later succeeded in bringing down the symbol of the Third Reich which was an bomination on the sacred hill. They raised the Greek flag once more, even if only for a few minutes before their deed was discovered. It was an act of heroism nonetheless.

The Erechtheion is very well preserved. Visitors are allowed pretty close access to it and I circled around it from the back side. The wooden door still stands. Beautiful decoration on the ceiling can be seen. It once housed the wooden xoanon of Athena which was said to have fallen from the sky. The procession of the Panathenaia brought the sacred peplos to this simple statue of the goddess which was thought to be holier than all others. I thought of the story of Erechtheus and his daughters who sacrificed themselves for the land.

I found myself facing the Parthenon once more. This time I went dead center facing its imposing front, as close to it as I could get. Once you've seen this, everything else seems trivial in comparison. I addressed a silent Khaire to the goddess and raised my left hand in salute. I heard the voice of the goddess in my head, Khaire Kynegeire, she said. There was approval in that voice, or I'd like to think so. The gods are above and beyond us, they are beyond approval or disapproval, good or evil, above all distinctions commonly held by men. They simply exist, have always existed and will go on existing for as long as we exist. The gods are a part of each human being but they are also bigger than us. What can be said to them except a simple salute and a note of acknowledgement. Yes, the goddess was there and I wanted to let her know that I knew it. So what else is there to say? Khaire Athena, kourê Dios aigiokhoio.

I left the magnificent temples and started heading down the hill, surrounded once more by olive-trees and the sounds of crickets. Slowly I left the sacred place and re-entered the common world which has no need of gods, or think it does not. The Parthenon could still be seen above the walls of Acropolis, rising to the Sky and resting on the Earth simultaneously, an immortal symbol of the land, its people and their ideas. I felt as if I was walking on air, my feet felt light, my mind felt clear, dizzyingly clear. It seemed as if all weariness had left my body. I slowly began to whistle a tune. Two bus-drivers were washing their tourist buses, obviously waiting for their groups to return. I walked past them with a smile on my face and a note of thanks in my heart.

I will go back to the Acropolis. The Acropolis Museum is temporarily closed on account of maintainance work being carried out there. I want to go into that museum and stand in front of the "Mourning Athena" and just say Khaire to her. Not to ask the goddess for a favor, not to thank her. Just to salute her. I wish that you will one day also visit the Acropolis if you have not already done so. Believe me, it's worth it.

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