From Grecian Corner to Athens

After you've lived in the same place for a while, even a location as wonderful and fascinating as London can begin to feel like a bit of a grind. So what is a would-be experimentalist to do? Sit at home and stew? Pluck out your eyebrows in the British Library?



Well, all of these do sound amusing. But when presented with these options, Old Ken packed his rucksack and headed off for a weekend in Athens. By Zeus' beard, I hear you saying, what is that? Has someone left the refrigerator door open up on Mount Olympus?



Kidding aside, it is hard not to be amazed by the ancient sites like the Parthenon, which we see above.



Just marvel at this incredible polychrome sculpture from the 7th century BC. I'm sad to say that the Catford Cat, which I have claimed to be England's largest polychrome sculpture (see http://www.nicebirdrox.com/blogarchive/2005_02_01_archive.html), can't hold a candle to these things.



And this fabulous inscribed column? Pure magic!



Now, perhaps I hear you saying: "Come on, Old Ken. I've seen a million pictures of the Parthenon just like this one. Why should I be interested in seeing any more?"



Fair enough. But, just look at the incredible carving on the frieze beneath what had been the roof until the seventeenth century when it was blown up by the Venetians who destroyed an arsenal of gun powder kept in the Parthenon itself by the Turks.



No, inhabiting the Acropolis is no longer allowed, unless you are a kitty such as that which was spied catching forty winks along the northern porch of the Erechtheion.



Down below the Acropolis, in the remains of the agora where the ancients conducted democratic dispute, the most visible inhabitants were the ants. It was enough to send this experimentalist wondering if the ancestors of any of these insects had stolen an olive or grap from the picnic of Pericles and to wonder what Hesiod had to say about ants. Among some truly useful information about the desired cleanliness of one's genitalia when sitting by the fire (it's true!), I know he has a lengthy passage in the Works and the Days about analogies between women and animals, with the ideal wife being likened to a bee. But does Hesiod tell us anything of ants?



Here, we can see the Acropolis rising above the ancient agora (in the middle distance) as viewed from the steps of the Temple of Hephaistos. And speaking of animals, I think you'd have to be a real cynic—which is from the ancient Greek kunos meaning dog (hence, a cynic is someone who thinks like a dog)—not to appreciate Athens' ancient sites. They are what the ancients might have called hoi aristoi—the best! And all of this goes to prove (as if we didn't need any more proof) just how dangerous a smattering of classical learning can be.