Home > Uncategorized > Don’t twirl undergraduates in small Greek dance clubs, and the whereabouts of Osama bin Laden

Don’t twirl undergraduates in small Greek dance clubs, and the whereabouts of Osama bin Laden

Hey gang, this is going to be another quick one. We’ve got class in an hour, and I’m sitting here in Krinos, which has quickly become my cafe/hotspot of choice. But I couldn’t let a Monday go without posting at least a few pictures of Nafplio and Mycenae.

They work us pretty hard here. Seven hours a day for six days a week, with two hours of class a day. I’m not complaining, but it would be nice to get a little free time on Sunday. Not us, though. We get a guided tour of Mycenae, which is not really something I should be complaining about. Mycenae is one of those places you read about all your life. The kind of place you grow up thinking “if I could only see THAT before I die.” Mycenae: home to the fabled Agammemnon. One of Schliemann’s famous excavations. You know, the place where they found this thing:

Agamemnon

Agamemnon

 

Suffice it to say, important shit, historically and mythologically. To get there, however, required a three hour bus ride and a 630 wake up call on the one day we would normally be sleeping in. I like Agy and all, but I like my sleep even more.

And, well, okay, I was out until 130am the night before dancing the night away at Cafe Lexus. I know, I know, it’s my own damn fault. But mom, everyone else was doing it. In fairness, I left the club an hour before everyone else did. Of course, everyone else is ten years younger than me and has better recovery mechanisms.

Some of you have seen me dance before. It can be…exuberant. Dance clubs in Greece are small, or at least they are in Pylos. Too small to try twirling a dance partner in the air. Yeah…I’m not quite sure how we managed to pull that one off without taking out the bartender. I unfortunately don’t have any photos of that night, which is probably a good thing, for the sake of my dignity and whatever credibility I might stil have after that night. Unfortunately, I know at least some of the folks on this expedition read this blog and might just post the photos anyway. I know where you live, people, and I’m relatively good with hotel room locks.

So I was already a little fried when we boarded Blue Lightning at 7am.

Blue Lightning

Blue Lightning

Although I’d entertained ideas about sleeping the way to Mycenae, the extended ride was also my opportunity to debrief Irwin.

Irwin

Irwin

 

Irwin’s wife Georgina is here working on the dig. They’re both retired (or semi-retired in Georgina’s case). Georgina had met our pottery expert, Cynthia, while they were both studying in Athens, and now Georgina is a veteran of several excavations. Irwin tagged along this time, and he’s already impressed me as one of the most interesting people on this trip.

He’d told me about an overland trip he and some friends made n 1967, travelling from London to Katmandu in a Range Rover, driving through Bulgaria and Romania at a time when both those countries were behind the Iron Curtain, and driving through Iran at a time when the Shah’s grip on power was being held together with duct tape, twine and the CIA. He very nearly found himself in a Nepalese jail and witnessed the festival of the Living Goddess in Katmandu. I had no choice but to spend two hours debriefing the man. No journalist passes up such a good story. I’ll post his tale after I’ve had a chance to review yesterday’s notes. It’s worthy of it’s own post (or two or three). He’s a gregarious gent from British Columbia, with a penchant for the neologism ‘gynormous’ that I can’t help but find gynormously charming. I’ve quickly developed a profound affection for the man.

I managed to catch a few minutes sleep, though an impromptu stop at a local rest stop interrupted those glorious minutes. Nothing to report from there, besides finding Osama bin Laden.

bin Laden, found

bin Laden, found

I’m running a little late for class today, so my story of Mycenae and Nafplio will have to wait for my next post.

Until then, the Greek word for friends is ‘filoi’ and the word for my is ‘mou’. We’ll chat again soon, filoi mou.

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