~
I am on a train headed to Kalambaka. A train that is taking
Gracie, Jeanine, and I for a quick weekend trip to Meteora. They haven't seen
it yet and I wanted to see it again, with all hopes it would be in the light of
day, under a clear sky this time. When the opportunity to go this weekend came,
I didn't want to let it slip away. I want to see Meteora again…
We are on the train.
And we are sitting in one of those compartments where three seats face three
seats. Jeanine, Gracie, and I are on one side, the side facing backwards, that
is, in the opposite direction of the direction we are traveling. So we don't greet
the landscape as we pass; rather, we get to say hi and bye as it sneaks around
our shoulder and moves away from us at whatever speed it is that a train
travels..
The mountains in the distance. A
clear sky. Dusty, dry land punctuated by bursts of green and old, crumbly
buildings. The hum of the train, the clanging of the rails, the mumble of
conversation coming from neighboring cars, the gentle snore of the sleeping
little girl in her mother's arms across from us, and her cousin, too, asleep, (and
both with a cough that I imagine would make us more worried if it weren’t for
the months we’d just spent becoming immune to all sorts of delicious little kid
germs at school).
We are on the train.
It's 9:18 in the morning. Not quite an hour has passed yet. Oh boy. It really
is a long train ride. I wrote two pages of blue in my journal. I read a chapter
on courage and creativity in Liz Gilbert's book "Big Magic" that was
really good (consider this an official book recommendation: if you haven’t yet
read it, go get your hands on a copy ASAP!).
"Do
you have the courage to be creative, to try? The hidden treasures inside of you
hope that you do..."
We are on a train.
But this morning I was still at home. Woke up with my alarms today. Tired
because not a ton of sleep but that was to be expected. But I woke up ok. Gave
myself enough time to wash my face and reorganize and double check my packed
bag; straighten my hair, get dressed, eat breakfast and...out the door, down
the hill, excited for our trip!
We are on the train.
But to get here to where we are, we needed to first walk a ways and then take a
cab and then take the metro (and don't forget to change to the red line at
Syntagma!). But we made it with no problems. And with plenty of time. And
now...
We are on the
train.
~
Now, we are not on the train, but we will be soon. It's
Sunday and we are on a bench outside the train waiting to go home. Time to
catch up again…
~
The trip we made to Meteora this weekend really was
incredible. And everything, really fell
into place. The tours we took were
well-organized, very nice, and extremely affordable. (with VisitMeteora.travel). But, if for some reason, geography makes such
a trip less than accessible, come with me now and see Meteora for yourself—that
is, until you can go and truly see it for yourself…
Sunset tour
Saturday 4:30-sunset (obviously… J)
Meteora translates to “suspended in the sky”. And the moment you step off the train you can
see why. Thunderous towering cliffs
jutting up and behind the buildings of the small, sleeping town of
Kalambaka—like a little kid’s randomly placed sand castle towers or something
from a movie (think Avatar when they
first arrive—and if you think that sounds impossible, then you’re thinking the
right thing. Drop the doubt right there and embrace the magic. Because the moment you step off the train,
you feel this place—you feel how
truly special and wonder-full and awe-some it is…).
When I stepped off the train and stretched my limbs, this is
the sight I was greeted with. When I had gone to Meteora one rainy Saturday in
January for just a quick trip, the clouds had covered more than I
realized. Now they were lifted and my
eyes widened in amazement (that might sound cliché, but, like literally…). I had missed so much the last time, because
of the clouds. But if it was that
amazing then, well now…
Anyway. So it’s just
downright amazing. But the wonder
doesn’t stop here. Climb further into
the waiting folds of the mystical mountains with mystery carved and embedded in
every gentle curve of stone…
Well, and if you’re into that sort of thing, go and climb
these magnificent rocks. Rock climbing is
important to the locals (like this one!).
And if you time it right, and
visit just after Greek Orthodox Easter, you can go for the ceremony or for the
aftermath of the ceremony to honor St. George. The story goes: in the early 20th
century, a young Muslim couple moved to the area and planned to settle in
beneath these stones that have looked on and watched the lives of those who
come to be in their presence for years.
As they were building their house, a terrible accident befell them (if I
remember correctly, something like a tree actually falling on the
husband). The man faced death. A couple of locals nearby heard the cries for
help and came, but could offer no help, save to comfort and encourage with
prayer. They told the young wife to pray
to St. George and offer some sort of sacrifice.
At their urging, she did just that, taking the scarf she wore around her
head and giving it as offering for her husband’s life. They received a miracle that day. And now, every year, locals in Meteora climb
and leave scarves here in this rocky opening to honor St. George and the
miracle that happened that day. Climb now today and take just a scrap of
the fabric; they say: the one holding the scrap will have good fortune in
meeting/marrying someone...
But if you’re not up for the climb right now, just hop in
one of the air conditioned tour buses and let them guide you through the
towering rocks, from monastery to monastery—breathtaking sight to breathtaking
sight.
See Άγιος Στεφανος: a monastery built in the 14th century. It
took several generations to build. Imagine, laboring day in and day out to
create something that you would never see.
To make your mark on this place that can’t help but leave a mark on any
and all who linger even a moment, humbly in its presence. At some point, it was abandoned for 100
years. However, it was maintained by dedicated locals who again saw the
importance of contributing to something they might never see the full reapings
of. After this 100 year abandonment though, the moastery was turned into a
nunnery. And 35 nuns still live and take care of it today (even better than the
monks ever did!). Sitting majestically, accessible now by a bridge, it
overlooks Kalambaka and the most fertile plain in Greece (from which nearly 20%
of Greece’s harvest springs).
Inside, the monastery-turned-nunnery, but just outside of
the actual church, see a board suspended in the opening. This is the tantalum. That is, a board/paddle that is hit as a call
to faith—to honor/mimic Noah hitting the plank to call the animals to the
ark.
It’s a bit strange that hardly a word was ever written about
the marvels of Meteora over the centuries.
Even now adays, it still remains pretty well-kept secret. (I mean,
before coming to Greece, I thought it was pronounced “meteor-a” and was only
the title of one of Linkin Park’s cd’s that I remembered from my middle school
days…). It makes you wonder how a place
like this can be kept so secret—and it adds to the mystery and wonder of it all
as you wonder. You’re standing here now
and you still wonder if it can actually be real. But anyway.
There is one mention of it in Homer’s Iliad. The town of Kalambaka
which sits in Meteora’s shadow used to be known as Ηθομη (Ithomi), 3000 years
ago during the war of Troy that is famously and poetically painted in the
verses of that epic poet. Later, the city would swap its illiadic name for a
new one Αγρίνιο. And then a third time to bring it closer to its current name:
Καλαμπακ which translates roughly to “look at the rocks”. This identity crisis of sorts happened in the
15th century.
Now, Kalambaka claims a population of 12,000 people. Perhaps
they were all sleeping or trying to escape the heat the day we were there,
because, aside from the occasional employee, taxi driver, and old man or woman
sitting on their porch or walking along the side of the road, there weren’t
that many faces to greet you. (But the
older men and women we did come across, offered a friendly “γεια σας“ in return to our smiling
wave).
Moving on. We can’t talk about Meteora and the monasteries
here without talking about the Orthodox Church that supports them and has its
essence painted on the walls, poured into the mortar between the bricks. When we speak of the Orthodox Church, we
speak of the Christian faith as it developed in the Eastern Roman Empire/Hellenistic
world, which later became known as just Byzantine. Here there are flags at
every monastery (and you’ll see them at churches and such around other parts of
Greece, too): the Greek flag (in all of its blue and white glory) and the flag of
the Greek Orthodox Church (a bold yellow background for the double headed eagle,
one head looking east, the other west—symbolizing the dividing of the
church).
And thus provides us the perfect segue into the next stop on
our tour: one of the oldest Byzantine churches in Greece. Built on a foundation
of and incorporating into its structure rocks/marbles from as early as the
fourth century BC, this church (like most Byzantine churches), this church
includes three distinct sections, all facing east, and is purposefully
decorated by very specific and prescribed art that tells a story (one of judgment
and one of faith, both necessary to faith).
Our tour here was a bit more brief and awkward than anticipated. See, we unwittingly became “baptism crashers”
and stood huddled around our tour guide rushing through his spiel while baby
Thodoris' began his grand adventure in this world and received his name. ...Oops...
Carry on. And pause
now to look up at any one of these giants and see : caves and indents carved
out by wind erosion that carries tiny particles away over time. To try and even
fathom what it would be like to lay eyes on these before they were touched by
man...to find them unspoiled... to be the discoverer… If this is what it's like
thousands of years later...all that can be said is just wow...
Oh, and now try to fathom being one of the first to live
here—and not only that, one of the hermits who came here to live alone a life
devoted to prayer and work in isolation.
There are hermitages in the caves on the side of these rocks. Late 19th
century saw the last hermit monk. He climbed up there and took two years to
build the scaffolding on his own, refusing any offer of help. He then lived out
the remainder of his days and died up there. The upper cave became the site of
a church for St. Gregory. Two years ago, a group of monks went up there with their
smartphones to see, and brought back with them the first pictures of that
sacred place.
Facing these hermitages is a monastery built on the side of
the rock. Above the brick face of the building is a canal used to divert the
waterfall from the rain.
More quick snapshots of this place: the village under
Meteora burned to the ground during WWII.
The locals had to rebuild everything from the ground up.
Between those rocky giants is a lone, almost
easter-island-head-looking rock: “Finger Rock” : thread the needle.
Prison rock: a rock with caves that became temporary holding cells for the monks who didn't quite abide by the rules of the Abbot (head monk).
Grand Meteoron, the largest monastery founded in 1340 by the
monk, Anasthasis. This is the one I visited the first time I came, when it was
shrounded in misty mystery by January rain clouds. A different view this time. But just as
incredible. The clouds have run away for the day, revealing so much more. The islands in the sky are real...
Now chase the sunset...
~
When did you ever
think you'd be here? See this?
Those islands in the
sky--they're real. And not only that, but you're on top of one right now.
In a sweet silence
that calms. And a light breeze that cools. With friends that make the trip
worthwhile...
You could look here
everyday of your life and never cease to be amazed. In awe you have walked today.
In a place that
transcends noise and worries and elevation and gravity and time... You become a
part of this story and you hear the story of these rocks and the people who
have walked before you. Echoing in the silence, hiding in these caves, whispering
their secret to you.
And now you know. And
here you are.
~
~
Someone shared these words with me while I was here—and they
resonated and resounded off the rocky walls. And like a chord struck sends
sound waves out into the open void and causes without even a touch of contact
for nearby strings to also waver in harmony, so too did these words after echo…
"Nature is the
second great power of our world. The beauty of it is a grandeur that reminds us
a lot about the important things in our life. But the first; the first is love.
Because its substance is immortal, invincible..."
And in nature we see
love—out of love sprang such beautiful creation...such attention to
detail. The reason you can see hidden
beauty in every crack, crevice, tree (even that lone tree on top of that
distant rock over there...)—is because of the careful, loving stroke of the
artist's brush... And this beauty of nature inspires love: that's why these
monks spent literally centuries building these beautiful offerings of love—to
the God they loved and dedicated their lives too, yes. But why make it neat and
look beautiful too if not out of love for the nature you are becoming one
with... Out of love, they carried stones, lived and died just to add a brick of
loveliness to these islands in the sky.
Not for themselves, and not even just for those that would follow...
Love stirs in the hearts of those who gaze on these rocks in awe, and feel
something—moreover, feel a part of something. For hundreds of years... And love
for their heritage and their home and wanting to preserve the holiness of it,
these locals still climb and they preserve it on their own... Love for the
people you are with, for those you share these sights with back at home, for
the beauty of creation that surrounds you. A testament stronger than any other,
right before your eyes, and you still can't believe it... This is exactly right:
"The beauty of it is a grandeur that reminds us a lot about the important
things in our life..." The beauty of this place reminds me of faith,
believing in the unseen and the unbelievable, patience, hard work, dedication...
And most importantly—love. And the greatest of these is...
~
Morning Tour
Sunday 9-1ish
In the 10th century came to Meteora the first hermit. And
others would come after him across the centuries. At one point, no less than 20 lived
separately together in the caves on this one rock : a veritable apartment
building for hermits. They came together, though, to form the first religious
community here, and decided to build the Church of Panageia (Holy Mary) of
the/on the Holy Spring. The church still stands and locals come to the shrine here
daily to light the candle (the supplies are already there in the cabinet below).
Two and half centuries later after that first, trail-blazing
hermit, the first monks came from Athos, fleeing pirates. The kingdom that
stood here welcomed, supported, and protected them in their endeavors.
In the fourteenth centuries (so roughly another two and a
half centuries later), Afathasios and Ioaseph came and became the founders of
the first monastery, Great Meteora.
Fun Fact: Women were not allowed inside the monasteries
until 1933—and even then, it was a controversial call and almost didn’t happen.
The statute forbidding females was called the Rule of Abboton (that is the rule
of the Abbot, or the head monk). And it reined for centuries as not a single
female footstep fell upon those monastic steps (or the pulley rigged up to
reach the top—a more risky version of an elevator…). But then, one day, one of the monasteries
caught on fire and the monks called for help. First respondents were women from
the village who were walking nearby. The monks inside faced the dilemma of whether to abide by the rule or
accept female help. In the end, they accepted help—and by extension women were
accepted. The rule now broken once, it lost its power and governing power. And
women have been allowed ever since.
The first nuns, then, came in the 1960s. Now, they outnumber
the monks 55 to 12, residing in two (well-functioning) monasteries-turned-nunneries.
Thankfully, roads and staircases now make the monasteries
accessible. But that hasn’t been the
case for even 100 years. The first
staircases were installed in 1921. Before that, there were only wooden ladders
or the occasional rickety pulley that left you dangling slowly inching up the
face of the cliff like a ton of bricks.
In the early 20th century, there were only two
active monasteries, Varlam and Grand Meteora. Now, in the 21st
century, there are six active monasteries (two of which are now nunneries),
though a couple of them only have perhaps a handful of monks residing there, or
even only one. These are the monasteries that you can visit, to hear the echoes
of faith and marvel at these ornaments added to these islands in the sky. There
were once many more than six, and you can see the ruins still from some. Some have been maintained by devoted locals
so that they still keep up appearance even if they’re not currently
functioning. Two monasteries were destroyed
in the early 19th century by Ottoman Turks because they supported the
revolution and cause for Greek independence by participating in revolts. An
active stance in the world wars also brought attention and devastation to some
of the monasteries.
Oh, perhaps you’ve seen a glimpse of Meteora even if you
hadn’t realized that’s what you were seeing. The Monastery of the Holy Trinity,
where one monk still resides, is set on top of one of the sky islands and had
it’s 15 seconds (or maybe 1 minute and 15 seconds) of fame and big screen debut
a couple decades ago. It was backdrop
for one of the chase seens in the 007 James Bond movie "For Your Eyes
Only".
Neighboring Meteora is the prehistoric cave, Theopetra,
which translates to the gods' stone/rock.
What is interesting about this sight (besides bearing testament to life
lived and holding even more stories echoing its walls across the century) is
that it is one of the only sites in the world that exhibits both a shift from
so called Neandrathals to modern people, and also the shift from an existence
as hunter-gatherers to farmers after an agriculture revolution. It is also
contains one of the oldest constructions that has been officially dated by
scientists, presumedly to protect the constructors from cold. The cave is the
site to two found burials, both laid to rest in the fetal position because the
people believed they were returning their loved ones to the womb of Mother
Earth. Also strangely cool and interesting, the cave contains the footprints of
8 year old kids, hopping around in the ashes, preserved forever (we just can’t
seem to escape τα μικρά παιδιά (little children) on our weekend trip/break from
school—even in the oldest cave...).
And now one last stop. Cross the plain of Thessaly, the most
fertile plain. See the rich, green, sprawling expanse… Mythology speaks of very
ancient tribes that used to live here. It is said that Athenians descended from
Lapithes of Thessaly—who lived here then moved south and colonized Attica. If
you ever make it out as far as Meteora, maybe hop over to Athens too and see on
one of the marbles of the Parthenon depicted the battle between these Labithans
and centaurs.
And anyway. That’s Meteora.
It’s real. These islands in the
sky are real…
~
I like to think of
these rocks, these islands in the sky (with their smooth, undulating rock
faces, towering up and above in the sky, with hidden crevices speaking secrets,
trees and green draped over the cool surfaces—covering like a holy tapestry,
history sculpted out of stone and built on top of it, an extension of the
story, the story never ends, living breathing rock...)...I like to think that
they were carved out over the years by the wind, sculpted by breath, an exhale
that echoes your own soft inhale of awe, whispered words that tell now the
story of these rocks suspended in the sky, that add every day to their story
their own, that carry the secrets and the hopes and the faith of those who trek
here to these tranquil trails every day for the last thousand years, even
before, still after, seeking a piece of the peace, seeking to hear in the
silence and see in the mystery something in the secrets of this place, of this
world, of life...
~
