I left Southampton as a modern Titanic, all happy and full of hope, at 4.30pm on Sunday afternoon. Fair weather, no rain, no problems wearing my sandals (my only defence against the anticipated heat in the place of destination).
3am Stranded in Athens, I find myself unable to sustain warmth in my body. There is only one thing that is efficient in this country, and that is air-conditioning. The specific one in the El Vel (greek attempt to mock El Paso) airport can create arctic condition in central Greece mid August…
6.30am The Nomad has landed in a field disguised as Airport. Heraklion in magestic Crete. And from the fridge I end up in the oven. To make the most of the relatively cool temperature I head to Knossos in search of the Minotaur. I arrived there just on time for a spinach pie and a coffee, to feel like home again. Looking for a mythological beast without sleep requires at least a magic potion. Nescafe Frappe with ice (Greekness in all its Magnificence)
Knossos, the ancient Minoan capital was build to confuse. It did not contain Daedals’ labyrinth. It WAS the labyrinth. Thus I decided to hire a guide. Infallible Greek logic informed me that I needed to find another 13 people to share my enthusiasm and the fee for the guide. The lucky 13 never arrived and there was no recorded guide either.
So I ventured in the labyrinth alone searching for the Minotaur without even Ariadne’s clue to anchor me to reality.
The palace’s ruins were partially rebuild according to the imagination of the English archaeologist Arthur Evans who discovered them. Inevitably his imagination is part of the exhibition, mainly because he was wrong.
I sneaked in different groups of people to listen to the appointed tour guides contradict one another showing how archaeology is as bad as interpretation of literature.
Full of European firsts, Knossos is not incorrectly considered by the Myth the motherland of Europe. First staircase, first multi-storey buildings, first cooling and heating system (better than the El. Vel. Airport) first sewage, first amphitheatre and first road (which I walked on!).
Europe daughter of mighty king Minoa was seduced by Zeus in the shape of a white bull who kidnapped her, crossed the Aegean sea and brought Europe… to Europe.
American tourists dragged to the site from their luxurious cruising ship kept asking where they can see the Minotaur. Mythical beasts, half human half bull, are more interesting than boiling ruins in the heat.
Truth is I could not see the reason why the bull was so important and sacred in this civilization. Crete’s ecosystem cannot sustain herds of such big animals (which the current population consumes like there is no tomorrow… long live Mediterranean diet!). The bull appeared everywhere. But even the size of the amphitheatre did not allow much acrobatics on the back of a running bull either. Somehow the scalling did not make sense…
It might have been the lack of sleep or the massive change of temperature but by 10am I was hallucinating. Under pine and olive trees listening to the familiar “home” sound of cicadas jumping from stone to stone… For a moment I thought I saw the Minotaur. He was there, ignoring my presence with only one target. Devouring the place. Short attention spam, heat and boredom made him irritated. He did not even notice that he was transformed into a queue of tourists.
I had to escape to the familiar city buzz of modern Crete.
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