Great. They're home.

Hi there, it's me: Moshes

I mean, crap, man, I was more excited than anyone for the guys to get home from Greece. It had been 3 months, you know. Excited, that is, until I saw what they brought with them.

Please! They say her name is Fyllo (like the dough, but also like "friend," as though anyone needs a friend like that). They found her in a trash heap on some God-forsaken road in Volos, along with a pile of brothers and sisters. Eight in all, to be exact.

Setting aside the obvious question as to why in the world they would want an inbred trash heap puppy to begin with, why this particular one? They say, "Look at her white nose spot!"

I say, "Look at how she resembles a possom!" They say she has a great disposition, that she is attentive and relatively mellow (for a puppy). I say, "Half possom, half skunk, and half raccoon!" They say that on the morning they went to make their final choice, she was the first to wake up and look at them.

And that's that. Weren't they tempted by her little black brother asleep on the ratty teddy bear?

Sure, kind of, but the decision had been made. And without a second thought as to how this might sit with yours truly, they tore her from her family

never to see her roly siblings or long-suffering, vigilant mama again. The loving mama who had raised and protected them all for nine long weeks on the wintry streets of Volos.

Eight hours later, they're on a four-hour bus ride with all their belongings to the Athens airport (I find some pleasure in the fact that the bus driver made her ride below with the suitcases).

Why in the world the airlines let her on board or customs let her in America-for-Americans, I'll never know. "Oh, she's so cute!" they all said. What about, "Oh, where's her papers?!" Anyway…After nearly 32 hours of being stuffed in her lunchbox kennel crate, behaving "like a perfect little angel," they got to US soil and rented a car

And then drove another 12 hours north to Idaho to get me, happy as a lark at Kamp Karlson but also so so so excited to see them, the Benedict Arnolds. Arriving at my doorstep with the smell of another puppy on their cuffs, can you imagine? Me, me, play with me! But no, it's always, "Oh, look, she's a roast chicken!"

or "Oh my gosh, she's sleeping with her tongue out!"

BIG FAT WHOOP. From what I can tell, all she does is sleep and chew on stuff. Wrong stuff. Bad stuff. Clearly she's a reprobate. She's nowhere near as beautiful as some other puppies in the family (ahem), and can she run like a lightening rocket?

I think not. And who do we have to thank for all this? Some friend of theirs named Dimitra they met at the university in Greece.

It was SHE who helped that trashy mother dog (where's the family planning?) raise her social parasite street pups by bringing them milk and food. It was SHE who lured the guys into going and looking at those little demon pups, only to fall under their smelly spell. Can you say conspiracy? They tell me it'll turn out all right in the end. Someone to play with wouldn't be bad, I guess. Like a sister, I mean. She is a good sleeper, I'll give her that.

If only she'd stop hoarding all my toys. Moshimatic, over and out.

WE HAVE A WINNER!!!

JOHANNES!!

Remove to JO, subtract the NE, and find lurking in there a one Mr. HANS from Seattle, Washington. Proud owner of a jar of delectable spoon sweeties (please allow 6-8 weeks for delivery, offer not valid for graduates of some liberal arts colleges). In my infinity density, I failed to recognize the correct answers when he submitted them, a very long time ago. And those answers are:

Riddle 1:
It's quince! Rearrange for "cinque" and move SE from Italy to find the EU member Greece. Add seven to five and get twelve, or as Homer would say: "dodeka."

Riddle 2:
It's a walnut! Do the prescribed alphabetical dance to get "aeplsr." Rearrange for "pearls" and give props to our oystery friends of the deep.

Hansie, we love you.

We're still here and well!

Dear Horiatikons, sorry for the silence but we were away from the computer for two wonderful weeks, traveling all over the island of Crete and the Pelion with my mom (all the way from Virginia!) and her friend Judith. Since our return to Volos, we've had another day of olive harvesting and a very enjoyable day with Eleni's family in their house near the sea in the small village of Xinovrisi. We've not had time to process the hundreds of pictures from said escapades yet. And with our departure from Greece looming roughly a week away, I'm not sure we'll get around to it. But stay tuned...who knows? We just might get inspired one night.

In the meantime, let me encourage any and all of you to take another stab at the spoon sweet riddles. These are real questions with real answers, parts of which have been touched on (yay Kate and Johannes) but not nailed down. And, my God, think of the prize!!! I received one anonymous email with BOTH correct answers...would only that these insightful nuggets were posted. As it is, it looks like Imzatoichi-1 may whisk away the winnings based on nothing more than the sheer genius of imagining a crown gall spoon sweet. More soon, in theory.

"Spoon Sweets" (Γλυκά του κουταλιού)

Ah, spoon sweets. Not only are they fun to say, they're also numbing to eat. And they're everywhere:


A touch overwhelming? You should try eating them. Or rather, you should try eating one because that's approximately all your tooth enamel can withstand. OK, to be fair: The existential point of spoon sweets is that they are so sweet, you need but one to satiate that ever-gnawing need for something sugary that afflicts most, if not all, of the Greek populace. Remember, this is the same country where people can eat an entire piece of baklava, layer upon layer of syrupy sweetness, without a single wince. And let's not forget the cream-filled pies, the glistening halvahs, and the condensed milk drinks. In the land of insanely drippingly sugary creations, the spoon sweet is king. And to eat one is to experience a small ceremony of sorts. The shimmering thing is brought to you on a special spoon sweet dish, swimming in spoon sweet goo, to be eaten with a tiny spoon sweet spoon, the whole affair accompanied and followed by the obligatory glass of water:


Is it not perfection?

But all of this skirts the issue, I realize. The burning question being, "What the hell is it?" And that's where the true magic of the spoon sweet manifests itself. From what we can tell, just about any fruit or vegetable can be transformed into a spoon sweet. Figs? Check. Whole tiny lemons? Check. Zucchinis? Check. Watermelon rinds? Naturally.


And the recipe for metamorphosis is simple: Boil said object, cut or processed into bite-size pieces (the "spoon" part), in enough sugar (the "sweet" part) to render it preserved. There are, of course, variations on the theme: toss in some spice (clove, for instance, or nutmeg or cinnamon), stuff the sentenced plant ovary with an almond, etc. But you get the idea.


In the humble opinion of the Horiatiki editorial board, the best spoon sweets are those made of fruits and vegetables which naturally contain some tartness or sourness to offset the sugary onslaught. We enjoyed a very tasty sour cherry spoon sweet, for example, and offer rhubarb as a potential candidate. Another way to give the otherwise one-dimensional spoon sweet some depth of character is to spice it heavily, as Mama Pliakoni does with her absolutely edible almond-stuffed firiki (tiny apple) and peach creations.

But now for a prize-motivated Horiatiki Interactive CyberQuiz. Whosoever answers the following two questions correctly via our sophisticated Post a Message Option will win a jar of sickening spoon sweet gobs of his or her very own, to be hand-delivered by a member of our staff or a proud representative of the United States Postal Service upon our return. Sharpen your #2 pencils. [And take heart: In the absence of a correct answer, the most entertaining one will suffice.]

Question 1

Take the name of the fruit or vegetable shown here in spoon sweet form and rearrange the letters to spell a number in a Romance language. Add seven, and tell us how that country's southeastern EU neighbors would say the resultant sum in their national language.


Question 2

The fruit or vegetable shown here in "green" spoon sweet form is likely one you've never thought of ingesting before at this particular stage in its development. Imagining the alphabet as a circle, shift the letters of the first syllable forward 4 places and the letters of the second syllable backward 2 places. Rearrange the resulting letters to spell something precious – where are such things found?


Yum. Me.

Carpe Weekend; or, Posing with Columns

This is the post you've all been waiting for. We know you've been wondering: "How can any self-respecting person be in Greece for more than six weeks and not have the gumption to visit even one lousy archaeological site? Heroes and classics and philosophy and wars and whatnot!" Well, wonder no more. Just sit back and enjoy the splendors of the past as they come alive on your screen via The Internet. Just imagine, in a mere two days, these two people (the protagonists):

crammed inside one rented Fiat Panda [incidentally, this spunky little 2004 Car of the Year also comes in diesel 4x4 models, is Nikos' dream car (eat your heart out), and indeed has all the power, speed, and fuel efficiency of a real live panda bear]:

covered 1,013 kilometers, surviving on little more than one half-eaten package of Tostada biscuits:

and took in all of this…

Vergina (Βεργίνα)

The small town of Vergina, overlooking the rolling agricultural plains of south central Macedonia, achieved international fame in 1977 as the site of the ancient city of Aegae, the most important archaeological site excavated in Greece in recent years. The capital of the Macedonians until the 5th century BC, Aegae was the place where Alexander the Great was proclaimed King of the Macedonians (336 BC) once his (also great) father Philip II was laid to rest after being assassinated there during the wedding of his daughter. While there are ruins of the expansive palace:

the real jewel of Vergina is the Royal Tombs. The ancient Macedonians had a penchant for creating elaborate underground tombs, solid stone buildings that they then buried. The resultant large man-made mounds are found scattered all over this region of Greece, but their function backfired somewhat. Rather than sealing the dead off from the world of the living forever, these mounds (with their small forests on top) became tell-tale signs to would-be tomb raiders that riches were there for the plucking. Consequently, archaeologists generally find to their chagrin that tombs were visited before them by people with very different intentions. Fortunately, the magnificent tomb of Philip II escaped such a fate because it was buried BELOW other smaller tombs (nice decoys), leaving modern ruin-hounds with much to gawk at.

The museum and excavation site are first-rate. Four adjacent tombs (including Philip's) were excavated, a museum was built connecting them, and the whole thing was then re-buried just as before:

You'll have to take my word for this since non-flashy photography was difficult in the dark subterrain, but the items on display were fantastic. Found in the tombs, incredibly well-preserved, were cryselephantine couches, suits of armor, glorious gold crowns of delicate oak leaves and acorns (a few very slightly melted-looking acorns attest to the fact that Philip's crown was on his head as his body was consumed in the grand funeral pyre), gold larnaxes, silver banquet sets, innumerable cups and pitchers and flasks ("the dead are always thirsty"), on and on. Very impressive.

Pella (Πελλά)

The next Panda stop was ancient Pella, the birthplace of Alexander the Great and the capital of the Macedonians during both his and Philip's rules as king (even by their time, Aegae had lost its capital significance, functioning mainly as the royal burial site and place for theater…and assassinations). Pella grew into a massive city, built on the Hippodamean system of urban design, a regular grid of perpendicular streets with sophisticated water and sewage systems; but today it's mainly known for its wonderfully preserved mosaic floors, some maintained in situ while others are displayed tastefully in the small museum. These mosaics are composed simply of variously colored stones (pebbles, in some cases); think of the possibilities with future bathroom projects [Roberto: take note]!

Who needs tiles, right?

Watch out, column pose!

Before we hop back in the Panda to the next site, please appreciate the art of the mass production of ceramics, 4th century BC Macedonian style [Roberto, this is for you auch]:

And a final image from the apex of the Hellenistic age (no Naj, we didn't ask):

Edessa (Έδεσσα)

Before the discovery of Vergina, this small mountain town was thought to be the ancient city of Aegae. Stripped of that honor, it is now known (and visited) for its many waterfalls. Edessa certainly has water.

Little concrete canals run all over town, fountains are everywhere, waterfalls, little bridges, even a water museum. If Yestermorrow (www.yestermorrow.org) were to build a town, something not unlike the old town of Edessa might be the result.

Also there to serve the needs of the (almost exclusively Greek) visitors to Edessa is the line of souvenir shops selling every kind of kitchy absurdity, from 2 foot tall clay busts of Sitting Bull to 24 square foot Kurt Cobain suicide tapestries to fur rugs like the one below, apparently made out of some sort of mutant hump-backed polyfox:

"No!" the dangling faux fox family cries, "Please don't go!"

I'm sorry, little ones, but we have more to see elsewhere. [On a side note, Edessa had some of the best crispy pork gyros we've had thus far.]

Delphi (Δελφοί)

If you're like us, when you think of Delphi, you think of pilgrims from all across the ancient world consulting the famous oracle in search of answers to life's questions, political, personal, economic, or otherwise. You think of great kings seeking permission for war, of women desperate for children, men looking for direction. You imagine virgin priestesses of Apollo (Pythia) being drugged and lowered into foul sulfurous chasms, their hysterical rantings being calmly interpreted by high priests, translated into fine and cryptic verses, sufficiently vague to maintain validity in the face of any outcome. Delphi was the omphalos (the naval) of the ancient world, the place where the two eagles that Zeus released from opposite ends of the earth finally met. For over one thousand years, it was the spiritual center of ancient Greece, finally falling into decline once the Romans invaded.

The museum there is a beautiful facility full of artifacts from the ancient site. As difficult as it is to do, the exhibits effectively give you a sense of the reality of this extinguished world, a sense that is deepened by a walk through the extensive ruins outside. Perched high in the foothills of sacred Mount Parnassos, overlooking an endless sea of olive trees, with the real sea beyond, Delphi retains a mystical feel. Seems like a fine candidate for the center of the world.

The Sacred Way (the entrance into the sacred city):

One of the things that struck us most was the idea of how utterly crazy this place must have been in its heyday. Crowded with pilgrims, merchants, priests. Buildings plastered in loud colors, statues and monuments scattered pell-mell everywhere you looked. Trinkets and offerings, animals being sacrificed, music and performances. It seems like the place, though sacred, was a free-for-all in many respects, no one really in charge, a fantastic show, sort of a spiritual Las Vegas or Disneyland. And in such a location. Looking down on the theater, the Temple of Apollo, and the valley beyond:

Heads up! Column pose by the famous Tholos in the sanctuary of Athena Pronaia:

And the same sanctuary from above:

Before moving on, we thought you might enjoy playing one of our favorite games: Spot the Woman with the Inappropriate Shoes for Walking on Uneven Stone Paths (SWISWUSP)!

This sighting was particularly enjoyable as, just moments before, the right heel snapped off and was hanging by a thread. Fashion is king here, and everyone has a ManCrutch just for times like these.

Monastery of Saint Luke (Μονή Οσίου Λουκά)

Don't worry, last stop. If you're this tired reading it, just think how we feel. As a transition from the ancient world to the modern, we ended our weekend with a visit to the Monastery of Saint Luke, a stunning Byzantine church with some of Greece's finest mosaic frescoes out in the middle of nowhere, overlooking a valley of its own.

We were drawn initially to the place because we read that the bones of Saint Luke were held there. Saint Luke! But it turns out that the Luke in question is not the one from the Gospels but rather a local hermit. This took a little active searching to clear up; for while the monastery makes no direct claim on the bones of the Gospel writer (which would boost business, no doubt), it must be said that it also makes no real effort to dispel that idea. In any case, the setting was lovely and we even acquired a few plastic bottles of the local monk-made wine to sip on the terrace beneath an amazing old tree:

Life is difficult.