Page 18 - Ath Airport Profile
P. 18
I t snows only once in our dreams, when we are fact have seasons—and yes, a winter! The sea-heavy to the temple of Apollo. Afterwards, I drive towards Periklis Merakos, right page: Clairy Moustafellou
kids. Thereafter, the stillness of snow melts Greek National Tourism Organisation ads all year Arachova and, should the day call for it, drive up
in the eternal ticking of time and repetition. round tell how it’s the sea they dream of. Well, there Mount Parnassus. I dislike frantic crowds and traffic,
With time, the firs, the snowflakes and the goes my secret: every Christmas I leave freezing New but it’s common knowledge that around 7am during
snowy slopes become such an integral part York behind and head to snowy Greece. Nope, I’m the holidays, the roads up to the Parnassus ski centre
of western pop culture’s “Christmas” that not at all attracted by the Seychelles, the Bahamas or are more jammed than LA’s Wilshire Boulevard on
one can rarely revisit those pure childhood the Caribbean in mid-winter; Mykonos during the Oscar night. I therefore prefer off-season weekdays,
dreams, untainted by the sirens of tourism and summer is enough for me. On the contrary, I am when the road is quiet and I can indulge in the slopes
consumerism. However, this doesn’t mean one cannot mesmerised by the prospect of my snowy motherland. without commotion. You don’t need to ski to enjoy
try. But it takes a different kind of logic. Snow is not I always set off from Delphi. There’s no two ways the slopes; you just need to walk, wander about and
as easily conquerable as the sea—it demands more about it: If my ancestors had considered the area reminisce. Even if you’re not a poet, your thoughts
willpower, focus and a solitary mood. It does not around Apollo’s temple to be the navel of the earth, will suffice. North European poets never hid their
mellow the senses; it does not mould poets like the then they surely knew something. If I’m lucky and passion for snowy mountain peaks. During the 19th
sea does, at least not in Greece. It’s no coincidence Delphi is snowy (a rare good fortune, I have to admit) century in his Prelude, the most renowned English
that the two most famous modern Greek poets in then I become a child once more and, in true Julie Romantic poet, William Wordsworth, sang the
the world, both Nobel laureates, Seferis and Elytis, Andrews-style, break into song: “The hills are alive praises of the alpine peaks’ magic and of “the winter
bowed to the unsurpassable majesty of the Greek with the sound of music...” even if it’s not Austria. that like a well-tamed lion walks, descending from
summer and disregarded winter. However, as I’ve Even better! Frozen air, snowy roads, aromas of the mountain to make sport among the cottages
tried repeatedly to explain to some American friends sizzling chops from the grill house’s chimney…these and slopes.” The Alps may be taller, but Parnassus’
who love Homer and the Greek islands, the land of are a few of my favourite things. I don’t ski; hence magic is on a par.
Ulysses neither begins nor ends at the Ionian Sea or I’m in no hurry to get up. I wake up in a leisurely Between the town of Arachova and the Parnassus
the Aegean Sea. It’s real news to many Americans fashion, sip my coffee while overlooking the gulf of ski centres, nestled among the firs, lies the sublime,
that Greece is no Southern California and does in Itea, take a morning stroll on the slopes and climb up aptly named “Elatos” (Fir) resort, one of my favourite
18
kids. Thereafter, the stillness of snow melts Greek National Tourism Organisation ads all year Arachova and, should the day call for it, drive up
in the eternal ticking of time and repetition. round tell how it’s the sea they dream of. Well, there Mount Parnassus. I dislike frantic crowds and traffic,
With time, the firs, the snowflakes and the goes my secret: every Christmas I leave freezing New but it’s common knowledge that around 7am during
snowy slopes become such an integral part York behind and head to snowy Greece. Nope, I’m the holidays, the roads up to the Parnassus ski centre
of western pop culture’s “Christmas” that not at all attracted by the Seychelles, the Bahamas or are more jammed than LA’s Wilshire Boulevard on
one can rarely revisit those pure childhood the Caribbean in mid-winter; Mykonos during the Oscar night. I therefore prefer off-season weekdays,
dreams, untainted by the sirens of tourism and summer is enough for me. On the contrary, I am when the road is quiet and I can indulge in the slopes
consumerism. However, this doesn’t mean one cannot mesmerised by the prospect of my snowy motherland. without commotion. You don’t need to ski to enjoy
try. But it takes a different kind of logic. Snow is not I always set off from Delphi. There’s no two ways the slopes; you just need to walk, wander about and
as easily conquerable as the sea—it demands more about it: If my ancestors had considered the area reminisce. Even if you’re not a poet, your thoughts
willpower, focus and a solitary mood. It does not around Apollo’s temple to be the navel of the earth, will suffice. North European poets never hid their
mellow the senses; it does not mould poets like the then they surely knew something. If I’m lucky and passion for snowy mountain peaks. During the 19th
sea does, at least not in Greece. It’s no coincidence Delphi is snowy (a rare good fortune, I have to admit) century in his Prelude, the most renowned English
that the two most famous modern Greek poets in then I become a child once more and, in true Julie Romantic poet, William Wordsworth, sang the
the world, both Nobel laureates, Seferis and Elytis, Andrews-style, break into song: “The hills are alive praises of the alpine peaks’ magic and of “the winter
bowed to the unsurpassable majesty of the Greek with the sound of music...” even if it’s not Austria. that like a well-tamed lion walks, descending from
summer and disregarded winter. However, as I’ve Even better! Frozen air, snowy roads, aromas of the mountain to make sport among the cottages
tried repeatedly to explain to some American friends sizzling chops from the grill house’s chimney…these and slopes.” The Alps may be taller, but Parnassus’
who love Homer and the Greek islands, the land of are a few of my favourite things. I don’t ski; hence magic is on a par.
Ulysses neither begins nor ends at the Ionian Sea or I’m in no hurry to get up. I wake up in a leisurely Between the town of Arachova and the Parnassus
the Aegean Sea. It’s real news to many Americans fashion, sip my coffee while overlooking the gulf of ski centres, nestled among the firs, lies the sublime,
that Greece is no Southern California and does in Itea, take a morning stroll on the slopes and climb up aptly named “Elatos” (Fir) resort, one of my favourite
18
