« In Which My Day Just Isn't Cricket.. But Only Just | Home | In Which I Start To Go Off On One »
In Which I Enter The Greek Orthodox Church
September 27, 2008 by Mike
Ag.Theodori
Route: Epidavros - a thunderstorm - Isthmia - (baptism) - Ag.Theodori
Even though I have much too much to say about events this morning *before* the baptism, I'll start there, in a monastery 100s of metres above the Gulf of Corinth -- with one of the highlights of the whole trip.
Anastassis, the star of the whole show
To be made so welcome at a very special family event, when I'm only tangentially connected to said family, was very generous. Anastassis' mum's sister's husband is my bestest friend. (Although when I was introduced to Anastassis' dad's oldest cousin's husband's sister and her children after the reception, I realised that invitations had gone out far and wide.)
Baptism, I learn, is an important ceremony in the Greek Orthodox Church. The kid got dunked good an' proper, and then rubbed all over with olive oil. (When I saw how yellow the water in the font was after the ceremony, I thought at first he must have left behind gallons of pee as a thank you -- not bad for a month-old child and dare I suggest it's his commentary on the whole process?, I was thinking -- but on reflection I have to admit it was probably the oil.)
The incantations, the singers, the roles of both parents and godparents, the too-ing and fro-ing of the rest of the congregation, the ritual and the setting, all were fascinating for an outsider.
That said, I cannot begin to understand any of this. And no, I don't mean the fact that everything took place in Greek. I.. I..
I'll leave it at that.;-)
There's a time and place, and today I was very happy to be in this particular place. If Anastassis ever wants to talk to me about religion -- or the lack of it -- I'd be proud and happy. Provided we can do it in English, not Greek.
--
As I'll describe below, I had oily hands and soaked clothes and I was late by the time I arrived for the ceremony -- on a mountain-top several hundred metres above the Gulf of Corinth in a magnificently-situated Monastery. I'd never have ridden up here but for the ceremony -- indeed, I noticed the monastery high on the hill as I rode along the coast road last week. Incredible place; incredible views. Anyhoo, I managed to get most of the muck off my hands and changed from soaking bike gear into my suit in the car park. God, if She was watching, chose to overlook this and didn't Strike Me Down.
And in the end I was in time for the ceremony because the godparents were even later than me. They had.. get this.. driven up the wrong mountain. How cool is that??
Anyway, this is what a Greek priest looks like, just as he contemplates submerging a month-old baby in a big bowl of yellow water:
And this is what a frazzled Worzel Gummidge impersonator looks like when he tries to scrub up enough to dare to stand next to the lovely sisters, Helen and Christina, and little Anastassis:
Reason enough to have carted the suit round in one of the panniers ever since St Petersburg.
And this is what happens when you let Christina's oldest child, Johanna, take some pictures with your camera!
(Thanks, Johanna!)
--
Earlier...
The weather has been intermittently lousy all week. The forecast for the baptism was troubling, but I'm proud to say I took all the rain that Greece had to offer today and let it almost drown me in the morning, so that the ceremony would be dry and sunny in the afternoon.
Man, it POUNDED down with a vengeance for about 20 minutes. I couldn't have been wetter if I'd decided to get baptised myself, fully clothed. It struck on a hilly section, too, so it was more like riding up and down a surging river than a road. Add the potholes -- hidden from view by the rainwater -- and the general shiny slipperiness of Greek roads at the best of times, and I reduced my speed to a crawl. Cars were pulling off the road. But I decided to plough on when, in other circumstances, I would have hidden under a tree and felt sorry for myself. I couldn't miss the baptism now, after hurtling round the Pelep..
.. and then, suddenly!, just as quickly as it had started, the rain stopped. In the blink of an eye. Within 20 metres I was in blazing sunshine. The weather here has been extraordinary. Five minutes later I pulled over and looked back to see the storm still camped in the same spot. The edges of the storm were so well-defined that they looked like the folds of a vast, dark grey Victorian skirt. Or, to a fan of the Moomins, it looked a lot like the Groke.
--
Five days or so after passing the north end of the Corinth canal, I reached the southern end this morning at about 10.30. That works out at approximately one mile per day (m.p.d.) as the crow flies although, if you add in a slight detour around the Peloponnese, it took just over 750 miles.
Cue the obligatory picture from the submergible bridge at the southern end:
to match Monday's shot from the north end:
Followed by a non-obligatory and very embarrassing moment when I dropped the bike, at a speed of precisely 0 m.p.d., when I misjudged just how slippery the submergible bridge might be. It was a very slow descent with no risk of injury to anything but my pride. The front wheel snapped round on itself, my standing foot slipped, and I just had to step off and away as the bike went over, cartoon-style, under its own weight and momentum.
But dangnabbit: gentle as the landing was, the spring on the sidestand snapped off. I got the bike upright and off the bridge OK, and eventually twanged the sidestand in to place with my boot, but all I managed in terms of repairs was to cobble together a temporary way to lift the stand off the ground when I want to ride, with the aid of a bungee cord, an old washing-up bottle and some sticky-backed plastic.. and *lots* of oil, grease and accumulated muck on my hands.
In the interests of full disclosure, I have to point out that that's drop No3, after Arctic Roosia and Arctic Norway a couple of years ago, at which point I feared I was destined to drop the bike once in every country. 22 countries later, I hope destiny isn't planning to get me up-to-date in a hurry.. though I managed to drop the bike again tonight, in another downpour, again at 0 m.p.d., in a miserable hotel carpark, struggling to manipulate the sidestand in to place. Hmmmm.
Comments
Leave your comment
Latest comments
- By robert and peter in Diary
- By Wayne in Diary
- By Boris in Diary
- By Sandy from Leeds in Diary
- By Sascha in Diary
- By clive marie goldwing in Diary
- By carlos pascual in Diary
- By Erkut Dora in Diary
- By david gwilliam in Diary
- By Nick in Diary
- By Mike Bowyer in Diary
- By Dick With in Diary
- By Gordon in Diary
- By KC in Diary
- By steve in Diary
- By Mike in Diary
- By Sascha in Diary
- By P Dawson in Diary
- By Mike in Diary
- By Helen in Diary
- By Mike in Diary
- By KC in Diary
- By Sergiu in Diary
By Christina Vlachtsis | October 15, 2008 8:55 PM
Dear Mike,
How amazing!
Thank you for writing this and for the photos. You should write a book as you have a great talent for describing events in such an interesting way.
I must say the photos I liked best are the one of Anastasi and the one of us together where I think we all look rather good and also very happy which is what is most important.
It was a lovely day and it was great that you could come. I didn't quite realise that getting there for you would be so difficult and such an adventure!
By the way Anastasi loves his present. I hang it over a play-mat he has with farm animals (that Helen bought him) and he loves dingling the bell and gazing at the little animals which is good for mum as it keeps him happy.
Hope all is well with you.
Best wishes,
Christina