October 27, 2005
I have changed my mind. Initially, I thought that our day-trip to Samos Town on the Island of Samos, Greece, was not worthy of an e-mail, but then, in a dream, it came to me…
"As in the days of yore, the gods sometimes try to warn travelers against making certain journeys. The gods can choose different forms for their warnings. In our case, the warning came in the form of a terrible (but short-lived) illness, which was visited upon me several hours before our departure for Samos. However, as is often the problem with mere mortals, we did not recognize the warning for what it was. After two days rest on the Turkish shores of the Aegean Sea, we set sail for Samos.
Our departure was amply recorded, not in hexameter verse as in ancient times, but by the cameras, both moving and still, of the denizens of a great ship which lay near by. (These ships are known in the modern world as "cruise ships," and they are mighty indeed.) From its high and distant balconies, we were mistaken (our motley crew of Brits, Americans, Germans, and Taiwanese) for "locals". Our fate in Samos Town yet unknown, we waved gaily to the passengers on this great ship—they, who were ALSO from foreign lands.
Now, I am sure you are familiar with the many myths which surround the Greek Islands: of the Sirens who lead sailors to their deaths by luring them with beautiful songs against the rocks; Scylla, the monster who devoured sailors who sailed too close to her rock; and Charybdis, the giant whirlpool that sucked down ships. There are many other such stories, but today I will speak of some of the lesser well-known tales from mythology. Read on.
The Amber Disk of Samos
It is told that the Tourist Information Office in Samos is hidden from mortal eyes by an enchantment. There is a legend of an amber disk that, when one looks through it, lifts the veil of invisibility that shrouds the tourism office. Without the assistance of this disk, wayfarers search in vain for this treasure trove of information and are condemned to a (seeming) eternity of pointless wandering by the seaside. These disks may be purchased from street vendors in Atlantis, but unfortunately none are available on Samos. Consequently, no one has ever seen the Tourist Information Office. Myths circulate amongst the townspeople about where it might be located. "It's just 400 meters that way." "It's just 300 meters THIS way."
Some apostates deny the existence of the Tourist Information Office, though those who blaspheme in this manner are punished by the great goddess Bron of Ephesus.
The Dreaded Grape Crone
Those condemned to pointless wandering along the Samos quay face more perils than those who are condemned to the safer Christian Purgatory. Among the hazards of this bleak void, none are so fearsome as the Dreaded Grape Crone (DGC). The DGC appears to be a kindly, grandmotherly figure who has a smile that convinces the unwary that she has only their best interests at heart. As you enter her cave, she will present you with grapes, insisting that you taste them. With many a gesture toward her grapes, towards her heart, and towards you, she will guile you into thinking that she wants to give them to you. "No!" and vigorous pushing-away-motions will not prevent the grapes from sliding into a plastic bag and being rung up on your bill. Desperate measures are required to avoid the grapes, and even then you will be double charged for your water.
Churches and Cemeteries of Samos Town
Despite these aforementioned hazards, there are some lovely places in Samos Town known as churches and cemeteries. Perhaps they are even similar to those of ancient times. We wandered for a while in a hillside graveyard crowded with ornate tombstones. Each tombstone has tiny sliding glass doors, behind which are pictures of the departed and oil lamps, many of which are kept burning. The wind in the graveyard gently rattles the sliding glass doors, making a magical tinkling noise...
The Limbo of Samos
In the streets of Samos, one encounters other wayfarers (a.k.a. Lost Souls) whom one vaguely remembers from the crossing by boat to the island. As if they had taken the wrong ferry and crossed the river Styx instead, they wander with a vacant stare between the shops and refreshment stands that attempt to ensnare them and relieve them of their money. At last, even these places close for the afternoon siesta. Time itself stands still. Without knowledge of the disk, travelers to Samos can remember neither when they arrived nor imagine that they will ever be able to leave...
The harbor glimmers blue and light. The entrancing breeze blows. The banners of the Greek state snap blue and white…
Come to this enchanting place—or escape—at your peril…"
"As in the days of yore, the gods sometimes try to warn travelers against making certain journeys. The gods can choose different forms for their warnings. In our case, the warning came in the form of a terrible (but short-lived) illness, which was visited upon me several hours before our departure for Samos. However, as is often the problem with mere mortals, we did not recognize the warning for what it was. After two days rest on the Turkish shores of the Aegean Sea, we set sail for Samos.
Our departure was amply recorded, not in hexameter verse as in ancient times, but by the cameras, both moving and still, of the denizens of a great ship which lay near by. (These ships are known in the modern world as "cruise ships," and they are mighty indeed.) From its high and distant balconies, we were mistaken (our motley crew of Brits, Americans, Germans, and Taiwanese) for "locals". Our fate in Samos Town yet unknown, we waved gaily to the passengers on this great ship—they, who were ALSO from foreign lands.
Now, I am sure you are familiar with the many myths which surround the Greek Islands: of the Sirens who lead sailors to their deaths by luring them with beautiful songs against the rocks; Scylla, the monster who devoured sailors who sailed too close to her rock; and Charybdis, the giant whirlpool that sucked down ships. There are many other such stories, but today I will speak of some of the lesser well-known tales from mythology. Read on.
The Amber Disk of SamosIt is told that the Tourist Information Office in Samos is hidden from mortal eyes by an enchantment. There is a legend of an amber disk that, when one looks through it, lifts the veil of invisibility that shrouds the tourism office. Without the assistance of this disk, wayfarers search in vain for this treasure trove of information and are condemned to a (seeming) eternity of pointless wandering by the seaside. These disks may be purchased from street vendors in Atlantis, but unfortunately none are available on Samos. Consequently, no one has ever seen the Tourist Information Office. Myths circulate amongst the townspeople about where it might be located. "It's just 400 meters that way." "It's just 300 meters THIS way."
Some apostates deny the existence of the Tourist Information Office, though those who blaspheme in this manner are punished by the great goddess Bron of Ephesus.
The Dreaded Grape Crone
Those condemned to pointless wandering along the Samos quay face more perils than those who are condemned to the safer Christian Purgatory. Among the hazards of this bleak void, none are so fearsome as the Dreaded Grape Crone (DGC). The DGC appears to be a kindly, grandmotherly figure who has a smile that convinces the unwary that she has only their best interests at heart. As you enter her cave, she will present you with grapes, insisting that you taste them. With many a gesture toward her grapes, towards her heart, and towards you, she will guile you into thinking that she wants to give them to you. "No!" and vigorous pushing-away-motions will not prevent the grapes from sliding into a plastic bag and being rung up on your bill. Desperate measures are required to avoid the grapes, and even then you will be double charged for your water.
Churches and Cemeteries of Samos TownDespite these aforementioned hazards, there are some lovely places in Samos Town known as churches and cemeteries. Perhaps they are even similar to those of ancient times. We wandered for a while in a hillside graveyard crowded with ornate tombstones. Each tombstone has tiny sliding glass doors, behind which are pictures of the departed and oil lamps, many of which are kept burning. The wind in the graveyard gently rattles the sliding glass doors, making a magical tinkling noise...
The Limbo of Samos
In the streets of Samos, one encounters other wayfarers (a.k.a. Lost Souls) whom one vaguely remembers from the crossing by boat to the island. As if they had taken the wrong ferry and crossed the river Styx instead, they wander with a vacant stare between the shops and refreshment stands that attempt to ensnare them and relieve them of their money. At last, even these places close for the afternoon siesta. Time itself stands still. Without knowledge of the disk, travelers to Samos can remember neither when they arrived nor imagine that they will ever be able to leave...
The harbor glimmers blue and light. The entrancing breeze blows. The banners of the Greek state snap blue and white…
Come to this enchanting place—or escape—at your peril…"
With thanks to Frank, the Great Scribe of the Modern Odyssey
