and the Museum of Folk Art
West of the sun
The west is usually where the sun sets. In Greece it is the Ionian Sea. That, in the guise of a white cow, Io fled – the mistress of Zeus and the priestess of his wife Hera from a giant gadfly, sent by a deceived wife. Sometimes you think about it, sitting in the evenings on the balcony, seeing off the crimson sun and driving off almost silent mosquitoes. Such thoughts reassure a little – size does matter. However, the comparison is not getting any easier. It becomes easier from the fine wine and the incomparable aroma of the Mediterranean. Continue reading
Golden Autumn Pilio
If you get riddled with the expression “velvet season” (you can frown again), and you do not share the excitement of the “budget” public from the post-seasonal price drop, perhaps the phrase “golden autumn in Greece” sounds less trite for you: first because you can’t find golden autumn in mass-mass Greece during the day – by the end of the season, summer burns down popular resorts to the color of the desert, and secondly, because the Mediterranean flora in the dying stage simply refuses to take on the appearance sung by poets, somehow suddenly nerom antique, dropping the sun-scorched foliage and finding themselves in impartial negligee. Continue reading
