My Life in Ruins Part 8: Kyrie Eleison

Good Friday...a day of mourning in Greece far more than it is in the States. In Greece, it is not only Easter day which is important, but everything leading up to the day. 

Bells toll throughout the day on Friday, and with the number of churches in Athens, you are pretty well unable to miss them.

Even the city seemed to join in the mourning as the skies grew grey this afternoon and a drizzle fell on those walking through the city. It was the first actual rain I've seen in Athens.

I went and bought candles for the services, according to tradition. A fat tan candle for tonight's Good Friday service, and a white candle for the service tomorrow night. I also, on impulse, bought a small wooden egg, painted red as Easter eggs are in Greece (representing the blood of Jesus), and decorated with a hand painted rabbit. It made me think of the ceramic eggs my Grama used to make for us every year for Easter, and felt like a good buy.

Walking through town once again, on the way to the evening service, the sun broke out from behind the clouds, brightening the afternoon as though wanting to reassure the mere mortals on the ground that everything would be ok, and we didn't need to worry, because the sadness of the day has already been made right.

The bier sits at the front of the church on Good Friday, representing the crucified Jesus. As worshippers enter, they light candles and kiss the icons, then make their way to the front of the church to kiss the icon of Christ that rests at the head of the bier. 

As with most services, you have a variety of responses from the church-goers. You have your highly respectful people, those who come in, do the candles and the genuflecting, then sit down in silent contemplation and payer. You have those who are there and respectful, but sit and chat with their friends when "duty" is over. There are those who come because it is Easter, and they're supposed to.  And there's the girl watching everyone, and jotting down a blog on her phone so she has it all while it is fresh (in case you're dumb, that last one is me...).
Then general feeling though, is one of solemnity. There is no pre-service music, only the sound of the bells, coming more frequently as the service time draws near.

There's something about attending church in a language that you do not understand. You may have a general idea of what is being spoken about, especially if it is Easter, or another holiday, but you don't get most of the actual words. Meaning that you have the opportunity to hear from God without the middleman.
There is a lot of activity in the church during the service, despite the respect given the day. People come in throughout the service, walking up to kiss the bier, they answer their phones, which loudly ring in the middle of everything. There's even a woman going around, spraying the icons, which everyone is kissing, with disinfectant. I swear, I thought it was windex at first and nearly cracked up...
They even change the candles on the top of the cross mid-service, using one of the creakiest ladders I've ever heard. And I've heard my share of creaky ladders...

40 minutes into the service, and people are still walking in, coming to kiss the bier. The group that is singing the Bible reading is gorgeous. In sound...can't see them, so I don't know if they're gorgeous in looks. Not a huge fan of Greek men so far though...
Anyway...
It has become standing room only, but no one seems too bothered. 

I gave my seat up for an elderly lady who didn't look like she could stand the whole service. I believe I am now standing by an icon of St George, this church's saint. Who, quite honestly, I think was a jerk for killing the dragon. Maybe the dragon just needed a friend. But I'm sure George did plenty of good too.
People are crowding the aisles as the jingle of the bells on the censer join the voices of the chanters. Occasionally, the rest of the congregation joins in with the songs, but only for a few measures most of the time. They rise and sit according to some tradition that is familiar and comfortable. Even a language barrier does not make one feel like an outsider so much as a tradition that is known by everyone but you. But you can't feel too much like an outsider while celebrating the event that caused the curtain in the temple to be torn, bringing man into the presence of God. When you are connected by that, the things like language and tradition cease to be such a big deal.

As the service continues, the extra noise dies down. People talk less and focus on what is being sung more. I'm curious about one song, because the lady in front of me turned to her friend with a huge smile when it started, an expression like, "here it is!", and things went very quiet during that song. It was stunning...one of those that makes your chest ache while you listen. I took a video of it, but I doubt the video will come close to doing it justice. 

People are dripping sweat, the service has been going for an hour and a half and the front of the church has a haze of incense smoke through it, but no one seems to mind. All but a few people are on their feet, joining with the singing more now. There are still people coming in and weaving their way up to the front to kiss the bier.
The music is pretty easy to pick up (the tune at least), and I find myself humming to it, which is what a lot of even the Greek speakers around me are doing.
A song starts, and it's like Silent Night during the Christmas Eve service. Everyone knows it. Flower petals (and one random bouquet...I think someone messed up...) fall from the ceiling into the bier, then the priests walk down the centre aisle, throwing petals into the congregation.
The indoor part of the service ends when the choir leads the procession out of the church. Men carry the bier, like pallbearers with a coffin, and girls walk beside, showering it with more petals. A band joins with, and the band and choir take turns as everyone walks around the neighbourhood. The procession is supposed to symbolise a funeral, but takes on the feeling of a parade instead. Traffic stops, and people line the sidewalks to take pictures of the group passing by. I stopped at one point, to take a couple of pictures, and as I stood there with my camera up to my eye, people came up and casually lit their candles from mine.

I kept trying to stay with the bier, instead of trailing behind, because that's where the music was. With so many people talking, the sound of the choir doesn't carry that far. Plus, it's better to be up with them, where you can see things like the tallest member of the choir (probably around 6'7") grab the hand of a girl I'd guess to be about 4 years old, and walk down the street, holding hands with her, and singing. Daughter? Kid he knows from church? I don't know, but it sure made her happy. 

Returning to the church, we stood outside as the priest spoke a little while longer. I have no clue what was said. Then the men holding the bier took it just inside the church doors, then held it up so that everyone who was still there could walk underneath it to go back into the church. Some people crossed themselves, or kissed the bier, while others simply ducked underneath. 

The service wrapped up pretty quickly after that, with just a little more singing as the priests gathered up the fabric from the bier, careful to collect the flower petals that were on it. I don't know if they're used for something, or if they're just trying to not make a mess on the floor. 

The singing stopped suddenly, and people began clearing out of the church, scattering in all directions as most walked toward their homes.
And here we are, one step closer to Easter and the celebration of the resurrection.

My Life in Ruins Part 7---Jaded

I feel like every once in a while, I have to do something to sort of prove that I am not jaded. Prove it to myself, that is. I have no idea if other people think that I am jaded.
I have become very good at saying no to beggars and homeless people, even if it's a lady with a baby. I hate it when the rose seller ladies come up to me, saying that they'll give me a free rose, but if I take it, then they put a hand on their belly and say that they need 5 euros, and it's for the "baby". It's from the whole idea that you shouldn't give money to beggars, because the money may not even be going to them. And even if they get the money, it will often be used for drugs or alcohol, or something unwholesome, rather than food.
So when a man came up to me and asked for money for food, I told him no. However, we were across from a little cafe, and I'd been debating getting some food there anyway. I've been meaning to try it, and it just didn't happen. So I told him that he could go over there with me, and I'd buy him some food.

 He said no. He said he didn't like the food there. So I told him that it was too bad, and if he was hungry, he'd eat wherever.
He seemed like he was going to walk away, then asked if I would buy him a danish and milk at the cafe. I told him I would, and we walked over there. He ordered what he wanted, and I got the same pastry, and a cappuccino. He didn't want to stick around and chat, but took his food and juice (they ended up not having milk), and left after thanking me profusely.
It wasn't much. Less than $3 for both of us (I'm gonna have to go back there when I'm back in Athens. Good food, and cheaper than a lot of places), and a super easy thing to do. But it still would have been easier to leave it at "No" when he asked me to give him money in the first place, instead of inviting him to get food with me. Did I change his life? Probably not. He wasn't starving, and we didn't have a meaningful conversation as he didn't really want to talk and his english wasn't great. But did I do something good, and was it something I felt like I should do? Yeah, definitely.
So maybe I've not simply grown used to human suffering. Maybe I am being intelligent when I refuse to give money to beggars, rather than being lazy or cheap. Maybe I'm not completely jaded yet...

My Life in Ruins Part 6---Do You Believe in Ferries?

My ferry, waiting to leave. I never quite realize just how big they are til I look at the semis that look like little
toys sitting there :~)

Sitting on a boat on my way to Lesvos, and realized I should probably get a little caught up on blogs. First things first...I'm going to Lesvos. Yeah...I suppose I could have written about that before actually leaving...

Leaving just at Sunset. Wish we'd left a little earlier. By the time we started out, sunset was nearly over. 

It was up in the air a bit whether I was going to go at all, due to the Turkey-EU deal that you've probably heard about. Though, if you're in the States, there's no guarantee that you've heard about it, because if it's not about politicians, the news stations don't seem to think it's important. Good thing the rest of the world goes on hold while the US has our elections...
Ok...Sarcasm aside...
One of the groups I have been talking to was still looking for volunteers. Actually, there are still several groups in need of volunteers, but this is the group I'd connected with previously. They're in the midst of converting a hotel to a shelter, and need help with that. According to their facebook page, a lot of volunteers left with the announcement of the Turkey-EU deal, but there is still work to be done. Who knows what will happen when I'm there. I've given up planning (in case you couldn't tell from my trip so far...).

Blue Star ferries

The plan is to type a few blogs, and then post them every couple of days when I don't feel like writing. Or don't have the time to write. However, there may be a slight glitch to that plan...I always forget how sleepy vehicles make me. Not so much cars, but airplanes, buses, trains...Boats are apparently included in that. Oh man...give me a hammock right now, and I'd be out in 2 minutes...

Ready for bed with Mr Greenfeather

It's funny, because as much as I've been ready to leave Athens these last few days (I like it, but it's too city...Too many people, so I feel like I always have to be paying attention), I had a bit of sadness upon actually getting ready to leave. Wandered around, took a ton of pictures, etc. I don't know why I felt so weird about it. I guess it happens with any place where you get comfortable. Which I was starting to do. I recognize places, and I can make my way around, often without a map. I can use the public transportation system, even when it's messed up and I have to find a new stop. I like it, though I don't think it's somewhere I'll be desperate to return to (though I may be back there for a few days at the end of the month, and a few more mid-June...).

A view of Athens a few hours before I left

Anyway, super duper sleepy, but I'm gonna work on some blogs. By the time you read this, I'll be on Lesvos (because I don't have internet on the ferry, so I can't post it til Lesvos...).

Trying to not lose my hood in the freezing cold wind this morning.

My Life in Ruins Part 5---The Worth of Art

I love art. Well, I love art that appeals to me. I know nothing about art. I visited a few art museums while I was in Australia, and it basically made no sense to me.
But I like to find random paintings and whatnot. I was super excited to find a bunch of original paintings at Salvation Army one night. One day, I am going to have to live in a house with a lot of wall space so that I have room for all of the art that I have. I guess I could just have the walls of my tiny home covered with art. That would work :~)
Anyway, on that topic, I was near the Acropolis today, and there was an artist there with a variety of his paintings. There was one that I really liked, but I was debating because of the price. It was actually pretty fairly priced for a piece of art, but bear in mind, a lot of the art I own came from Salvation Army or garage sales, and therefore, has been really inexpensive. I looked at it for a little while, and almost walked away, but knew it was something I wanted. So I bought it.

The artist was so happy to sell me the painting. He excitedly offered to write my name on the back in Greek, then wrote the date as well. He was explaining the different bird paintings, and how one kind cost more because the birds were more plump, and it takes so much more work to get the rounded shape. He talked about the type of paint used.

Then a woman came from the apartments behind him, and started talking to me about what a spectacular painter he is, and how good it was that I was buying a painting from him. She told me about her apartment, and that she is happy with a small apartment, because she wanted a view of the "eternal beauty" (meaning the Acropolis, which is directly in front of her apartment). I said that I was jealous of her view, and she said it was ok, because I am a person who has to keep moving around. I thought that was an interesting way to look at it. You can handle a place with a ho-hum view or whatever when you know that you won't be there long. But when you plan to remain somewhere, you want beauty, and a place that will bring you joy.

I walked away with my painting, thinking that I got so much more for my money than just a painting (though I love the painting, and would have been happy with just it). Those random experiences that you don't expect are what make life fun.

My Life in Ruins Part 4

Some of you are probably wondering why on earth I don't seem to be doing much here in Athens. Aside from taking pictures of cats...Yeah...I wonder that too. It has been a little disappointing to find that there are a lot of challenges with volunteering. Mostly due to people wanting to hold on too tight to their programs. I understand that you start something, and you want to be sure that it goes well, but sometimes, holding on too tight can prevent good from happening. I've seen this way too much in recent years. And now I've experienced it on 3 continents.
I'm usually excited to say, "oh, I've done so-and-so on 3 different continents." For example, I've ridden horses on 3 continents (hopefully 4 after this trip...). I've taken Les Mis to 5 continents (so far only lost it on one, but I got it back...). Things like that, that aren't really that major, but are kinda fun to keep track of.

But this whole thing of dealing with egos on multiple continents is not so cool. It really sucks to be poised to do something, and have someone throw a monkey wrench into the whole thing because they don't want to let go of it.

So I am still trying to get some things moving. I want to do good while I am here, and I want to do good with the groups I came to work with. But while I am waiting for things to happen (because we're just waiting now, for the permits to come in and whatnot), I am going to enjoy being in Greece.

My Life in Ruins: Part 3

A couple of days late, but oh well...

First day in Greece. And yes, it was very eventful. Started out sleeping in a bit. Not all that long though, all things considered. That's one good thing about having a random sleep schedule...it isn't as hard to get on a new schedule. It's weird, because I still deal with jet lag, and the exhaustion from that, but not so much the problem of being away at 4 am. How can it be a problem when that it's pretty normal for me?

I had a meeting with the people of the Melissa network at 4, so decided to explore a bit before that. The Acropolis is in the complete opposite direction, but didn't seem too far. However, I was not counting on the fact that many streets don't have signs visible, and often, the signs that are there are only in Greek. I would say that, even with a map (yes, I have learned to read a map. Kind of. For those of you who know my previous map reading skills, kind of is a huge deal for me.) I would say that I only spent about 70% of my time having no idea where the heck I was. Though, I was pretty sure the whole time that I was still in Athens. And I managed to make it to my meeting only 10 minutes late, despite the fact that I had hardly any idea where I was going.

 We were discussing all of the knitting plans, and I happened to mention my background with jewelry design, and teaching jewelry making in India. That got some attention. It turns out that the Melissa Network has a small grant to start a program like that, but didn't have anyone to get it started. So here we are. I can source the materials, and I know how to teach jewelry making.

So I was dropped of in Omonia Square, and told to just look down side streets to see if I could find wholesale shops where I could get an idea on prices. And I found quite a few that looked promising. The prices are pretty high compared to shops in India, but going by Greek prices, they seem reasonable.

That was an interesting turn of events. I was not planning to do anything of the sort, but that's how it happened...Kind of the story of my life. I had no plans to do anything with jewelry when I was in India either...

I spent the rest of the evening wandering around over by the Acropolis. There are so many cats here. They even have postcards and t-shirts and whatnot talking about all of the cats of Greece. So there I was, literally in the shadow of the Acropolis, taking pictures of cats. Yeah...

On my way back, I got totally turned around.  Got very annoyed with myself that I couldn't find my way, then realized it is only my first day, and I need to just chill and give myself a little time to figure out the town. Still managed to get back without asking for help or hiring a taxi. I'm gradually learning to read a map :~)

Since it's now my 3rd day, I suppose I should post this. I'll try to get something more detailed posted soon.