The Black Sail The Austerity Measures and The Hope for Inspiration

Cape Sounion is the home of the beautiful ruins of the temple of Poseidon. Two rows of columns rise over the sea from atop a cliff overlooking a beach.

When Theseus sets sail for the palace of Minos to battle the Minotaur, it is on a ship with a black sail. His father, Aegeus, tells his son to change the sail to white if he returns. This way, as Aegeus waits for the ship to crest the horizon he will immediately know his son’s fate. Black means he was vanquished, white promises a joyous reunion. Theseus is successful in his quest but forgets to change the sail. Aegeus, seeing the black fluttering in the wind is despondent and immediately jumps into the sea. From this moment on, it is called the Aegean Sea. Named for a bereaved father deceived by carelessness.

Legend has it is from this temple that Aegeus spends his last moments.

The wind is unrelenting in its salt and  vehemence as it buffets against us while we walk around the temple. The voice of our guide is often taken away by the gusts as she relates the key architectural features of the building. The girls follow her obediently as she speaks, but I can tell that their attention is more on the beach than the ruins.

While not surprised, I cannot help but be a little disappointed. I always assume that the kids that come on these trips are as enthusiastic as I am about these things. You would think I would learn by now.

My girls are sweet and kind. They are generous of spirit and love to shop. They giggle and they cluster in groups. They are reluctant to try new things, but are resolved to it when I won’t let them off the hook. As a result some of them like tzatziki, others yogourt with  honey.  All of them like Fanta Orange and not many seem to groove on dolmades.

I walked around the ruins on my own as the girls trundled on their way back to the bus. We would be seeing the Parthenon in a few days, with its bustle and frenetic energy and press of bodies in the heat. But Poseidon’s temple at Sounion is off the beaten path. Our group is essentially alone and I am left to reflect and wander by myself.

I have written before about how I feel that the ancients speak through the stones they leave behind. These sacred spaces, for me, is like a message in a bottle. Often unclear in its total meaning, but the narrative is textured and intimate. The vocabulary is in the columns and the base, the intent is in the geography, the syntax lost along with the pediments. Partial sentences consisting of marble and time, from a people lost long ago.

As the girls frolicked in the waters my colleague, Lydia, and I speak to our guide for the day. Roula is stepping in for George today. She was lovely. Our conversations take a turn towards the modern financial crisis Greece is experiencing. Roula has lost her home and her pension as she reaches an age when she needs both the most.  Her career is grudgingly extended as her retirement plans disappear in with the winds of austerity measures.

“They have stolen our lives away!” she says with glistening eyes.” Our young people cannot work and I cannot stop.”

My partner in this journey is Lydia. She is teaching photography and she has a strong enough personality to put up with me. Two strong willed creative types will either mean a life-long friendship or a battle of wills. Early indications seem to indicate the former. She makes me laugh.

We see the Acropolis a few days later. As I suspected it was crammed full of tourists who have absolutely no sense of personal space. I have already been poked and bruised by selfie sticks. I admit to jostling one held by an obnoxious man who was trying to take a picture of himself with the caryatid statues (the columns that look like women) on the Erechthion.  He kept waving it around like a sword to give him space and managed to smack three people, including me. Hearing him swear as I jostled it with  my arm gave me great satisfaction. I know it was petty. And beneath me. And unnecessary.  But it made the heat more bearable for the next six minutes.

In the last few visits of this place I have keenly watched the progress of the restoration of the buildings of the acropolis. The blocks that have been placed along the outside rim continue to dwindle in number, and the miniature railroad used to move the marble pieces has been reduced in length. The slow progress continues as the results begin to show.

I am only now beginning to decompress from a frantic and challenging June. The heat is intense and Athens is challenging in its air pollution, but as I gaze down at the Odeon I find myself becoming rejuvenated again. The ancient world has always inspired me. I need inspiration this summer.  I need to find a way to look forward toward next year as I continue my own professional and personal journey. Cape Sounion,  the Parthenon, the great museums of the world, these have always provoked me to reflect and inquire, think and dream.

I am a teacher in Europe this summer. Clearly I am also a student.