National Archaeological Museum + Delphi

The last two days have been completely filled with new experiences.  Despite the fact that I have spent, cumulatively, around a month in Athens prior to this trip, I missed some pretty important elements of the area.  First among these was the Archaeological Museum, which I had heard mentioned about a dozen times but never in any context denoting its importance, or with any enthusiasm whatsoever.  Clearly this was a mistake. 

The museum itself is a rather plain building, as Athenian public spaces go.  It's a relatively plain neoclassical design, with statues at each of the corners of the roof marking the only significant decoration on the exterior.  Even the interior is plain and even slightly run down-- the plain whitewashed walls and screened and barred windows make it look as though it would serve equally well as an ornate auto mechanics' shop as its current function. 

The judge this book by its cover would be perhaps the greatest shame a visitor to Athens could make.  Within the plain walls, the museum contains a sculpture collection that would make an art history textbook's "Ancient Greek Art" chapter turn green with envy.  Not only are some of the most famous examples of Greek sculpture held here, but they are presented in a way that allows the kind of connection with the sculpture that one imagines may have existed in their original contexts.  99% of the museum's collection is not separated from the visitors by anything at all--vases, sculptures, steles, urns, etc are all simply bolted to the floor and left to fend for themselves, allowing anyone with the desire to take a very, very close look indeed.  The only exceptions to this rule are items too small to secure and a very few of the bronze statues, which have a short glass wall to keep idiotic tourists from bumping into them while photographic their shoes or something.  

I'll let a few photos do most of the talking for the museum.  My mind is still trying to process the aesthetic enjoyment of that day. 

We also wandered up to the church of Saint George, which is situated on a mountain adjacent to the Acropolis, although at a much higher elevation.  This is another example of the profitability of a sightseeing policy that can be best summed up as "go up."  Ben and I had no idea what was actually at the top, or why we were going there--we were a bit lost and decided that a higher vantage point would allow us to locate the Acropolis and direct ourselves toward 'home.'  By the time we got halfway up, we decided to go the whole nine yards, and we were rewarded with views of Athens even Athena herself would envy.  The church at the top of the mountain was a great example of relatively modern Orthodox church architecture--If memory serves properly, it was built in the last half of the 19th century--old enough to have some character, but new enough that the icon paintings were crisp and colorful.  No iconoclast fallout here!

Today was Delphi, which is another site I missed in my previous visits here.  This required getting up at 5:30 AM to catch a 7:30 bus, which dropped us in modern Delphi a bumpy 3 hours later.  Along the way the views went from urban sprawl to countryside to astounding mountain views.  The mountains around Delphi are almost enough to send even the most levelheaded traveller into an oracular seizure.  More on that in a moment. 

Perhaps two of the most picturesque villages I've ever seen are located along the route to Delphi.  The first is Parnassos, which appears to be a skiing resort during the winter and a refuge for Delphic visitors during the summer.  Very, very narrow streets combine with wood and stone buildings to create an atmosphere that is at once hardy and warm.  The windows of the Kreopoleion are filled with hanging carcasses of lamb, pork, beef, and poultry, all skinned and washed and ready for carving.  This is actually more interesting and less disturbing than it sounds.  It's interesting for an American to see that the source of meat is not actually a styrofoam tray in a supermarket, but from what was once a whole animal, carved by the skilled hands of a butcher.  

Delphi was the other fascinating town, a few kilometers down the road from Parnassos.  What modern Delphi lacks in oracles and Parnassian architecture it makes up for in views.  To the north are the mountains, to the South is the Ionian sea, at many points looking more like the progeny of the sun than of the sea.  East is ancient Delphi, West is mysterious (never went that far).  

The Delphi site itself is not nearly as impressive as I have been led to believe.  This is the second failure of the word of mouth touring system.  The Archaeological museum was ignored, Delphi raved about, and as far as antiquities go, there is no fair comparison between the two.  I have seen perhaps a dozen or more sites throughout Greece that had significantly more interesting ruins, although perhaps none but Delos can boast such a beautiful location.  

What was impressive about Delph was the second triumph of the "go up" touring philosophy.  Ben and I found a trail leading up the mountain just north of the town of modern Delphi-- part goat path, part actual trail, it led through thyme fields and various wildflowers of a variety and volume I had never dared imagine.  We even met a shepherd and his sheep (plus two lambs) along the trail as we ascended.  We reached a point high above the Delphi site--perhaps 500-600 feet above the highest part of the site, and perhaps 1000 feet above the Tholos.  On the 2-3 mile hike up we saw no one but the shepherd; on the way down we met one other group. Other than that, the entire mountain seemed undiscovered by tourists and locals alike.  The shepherd had a monopoly on the breathtaking view.