Belated Report on OSF

This blog is being written long after our July 12-15 trip to Oregon to see four plays, all by Shakespeare, at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival. We've done this annually for several years now, so we pretty much know Ashland by heart. In fact, a while back we even investigated the possibility of moving there, although the prices of homes and some second thoughts about the weather finally deterred us. Ashland is up in the hills, and even if the winters are far from being as bad as those in Illinois, they would still be cold and snowy. Better to enjoy the place in summer. Instead of flying to Medford out of Mesa, Arizona, as we've done in the past, we flew from Tucson on United. The last leg of the journey was on a Brazilia plane, only the second time in my life I've ever ridden on a prop job. It used to be common wisdom that jets were much safer, so I went to great efforts to avoid props. Although I was still apprehensive, the family behind us, who were also going to OSF, was thrilled--at least the father was, who kept telling his son that this was the way the Wright Brothers intended flight to be. (Technically, then, they should have been riding in a biplane.) While this particular father, obviously upper-class and highly educated, spent the entire trip passing on useful bits of knowledge to his son, another father-son combo we ran into the next day posed a complete contrast. At Liquid Assets, a wine bar where we had dinner, the adjoining booth was occupied by a fortyish man, his preteen kid, and two of the kid's friends. The man was having a glass of wine and telling the boys about his latest traffic ticket, which he received for doing ninety mph, although the cop gave him a break and reduced it to 85 so he would not have to go to court. Father says he has kept all the tickets he's ever received and has a stack that high. What kind of man brags about his traffic tickets to his kid? On the first evening we saw Henry V in the Elizabethan theater. John Tufts, who took the role of Hal in all three plays, was in top form--splendid delivery of both "Once more into the breach" and the "St. Crispin's Day" speech. I was a little disappointed with the wooing scene, though, thinking he should have displayed more charisma. Odd mix of costumes, the French in nineteenth-century dragoon uniforms, Henry and the English in modern dress belonging to several periods. Some liberties were taken with the play, I'm afraid--there is nothing in the text to indicate that Henry himself strangles Bardolph. The following day we attended a matinee of Romeo and Juliet, finishing up on Saturday with a double-header: Troilius and Cressida in the afternoon, As You Like It in the evening. The last two productions were OK but not riveting. OSF persists in the habit of setting plays in every period but Elizabethan England, so Troilius took place during the invasion of Iraq, which was a pretty obvious choice, and As You Like It was in Victorian costume. At this late date, I can't recall anything particularly objectionable about either one. Romeo, however, was another matter. Since the production was part of the ominously named Shakespeare for a New Generation initiative, it was pared down to its essentials and pitched to the intellectual and emotional level of a sixteen-year-old. Romeo bounced around like Tom Cruise on the Oprah Winfrey show. Mercutio's delivery of the Queen Mab speech was so clumsy that one wondered if he knew who Queen Mab was. I could go on but won't. Unfortunately, I read the reviews the next day and was astonished to find that the critics were enthusiastic. I could find only one person who agreed with me and he, too, was a blogger voicing a personal opinion--not someone whose thinking would have any impact on the OSF artistic director. I am giving serious thought to whether we should do this again next year. We've seen just too many clunkers--productions striving for originality, but so hoked up that Shakespeare's verse gets lost in the stage business. One reason I put off blogging about this year's experience was that I wanted to give time for my reactions to jell. My immediate pronouncements on Romeo would have been extremely raw. That said, though,there are other things about Ashland I really like. I love staying at Abbott's Cottages, a small complex of cabins on Oak Street. You're in the middle of town, within walking distance of the OSF theatres, but the cottages are set back against a ravine, and you really feel you're out in the woods.

The last time we were there, I saw three deer walking down the street below the hill on which the cottages are located; this time, we actually had a deer visit us. On the final morning I was carrying the bags out to the car when we saw her nibbling the grass right in front of the cottage. I ran back to get the camera and was just in time to snap this picture as she strolled away. Evidently she isn't too worried about people.

While I'm writing this in October, I'm already looking forward to our plan of travel over the winter: visiting Jeanne and Norm for Thanksgiving (with tickets for Tosca on Sunday afternoon); seeing Daniel after Christmas, then going on to APA in Seattle; and, finally, another cruise with Voyages to Antiquity in January and February, this time to Southeast Asia, where I have never been. I really feel that Ron and I have to do these things while we can, as we don't have that many good years left. Or, at least, that's the excuse I use.

Opera Week Postscript

I want to expand the last posting by saying how much I liked the A Contemporary Theatre (ACT) production of The Scottsboro Boys, which Ron and I saw on Friday evening. What was particularly impressive, apart from the brilliant choreography, was the appropriation of the minstrel-show format to tell a very powerful and tragic story. When the all-black cast appeared at the end of the production in blackface, the incongruity was startling--a pointed comment on racism. Another last treat was eating dinner at La Scene Cafe & Bar in the Warwick Hotel, across the street from ACT. Despite its location on downtown Geary Street, the restaurant had the ambiance of a small neighborhood bar, complete with regulars. One old woman, obviously with memory problems, came in for her evening drink (which, for all we knew, might have been water)just to sit at the bar and observe the company. It was obvious that someone would see she got home OK. At the next table there was an out-of-town couple, ACT subscribers who, as the wife informed us, travel to San Francisco and stay at the hotel for each performance. The head waiter chatted with them as a friend would. One of the waiters carried out a takeaway carton of food to a homeless man who dropped by. San Francisco is an odd city. On the Muni people sitting side-by-side can strike up intimate conversations. One man on the F streetcar announced to the world that he was celebrating the fourth anniversary of a successful liver transplant. Every time I go there I lose some of my reserve, at least for a couple of days. I have never been in another metropolitan area where strangers have so few inhibitions about being themselves. Well, maybe Rome, but there the group interactions are much different.

Opera Week in San Francisco

For the last four years, Ron and I have taken a trip to San Francisco during opera season to hear three or four productions. In the course of events, we've had a number of memorable opera experiences--Juan Diego Florez in Fille du Regiment, Placido Domingo in Cyrano de Bergerac (though unfortunately Domingo was not at his best that night), and the 2011 Ring cycle, including Jay Hunter Morris singing Siegfried before he became famous in the Met production. There are times when I've liked the SFO offerings better than the versions from the Met, and in any case they feature a number of the same stars. This year the summer series included Nixon in China, Magic Flute, and Attila. I've wanted to see Nixon for a long time, ever since I caught the tail end of a film of the original Houston production on PBS. The Met did it last season, though I didn't get the chance to attend the Live in HD broadcast. I don't see how they could have bested the SFO staging, choreography, and singing. (Maybe by actually landing a mock-up of Air Force One on stage--that's something the Met would try.) All the leads were superb, but special credit should go to Hye Jung Lee as Chiang Ch'ing. In her "I Am the Wife of Mao Tse-Tung" she was the Queen of the Night on testosterone. Speaking of the Queen of the Night, I had mixed emotions about Magic Flute as designed by Jun Kaneko. Since it was being sung in English, and since the publicity emphasized stage effects and cutely costumed extras, I figured it would be Disneyfied. Well, yes, it was, and during the first act the eye candy really got in the way of Mozart. The language of the translated libretto was bizarre when it wasn't being faux-baroque. Spoken dialogue contained lots of cheesy in-jokes. The Queen of the Night was predictably campy, as one expects that in San Francisco, but she was also so archly self-conscious that she appeared to parody herself. Coloratura runs seemed a bit mechanical. The second act was much better; by that time they had run out of visual effects and decided to concentrate on music. There was one final light touch in the closing duet of Papageno and Papagena, where all their imaginary children ran on stage dressed as chicks. Because the impact was whimsical, rather than silly, I didn't mind that one at all. Still, Magic Flute is not my favorite Mozart piece, not by a long shot, and this production, clearly aimed at "fun for the whole family," did nothing to improve my opinion. The best thing one can say about Attila is that it's quintessential Verdi, complete with opening chorus and dazzling first-act close, wronged but patriotic heroine (with a father fixation, too, like Aida), and sympathetic villain, though not as charming as the Duke in Rigoletto. Just not up to the standard of the late masterpieces. Weather in San Francisco is, as usual, unpredictable. Although it's been pleasantly warm the past few days, as I write this, the summer fog is cooling everything off.

On Wednesday afternoon we went down to Fisherman's Wharf where I took this photo. We had lunch at Pompei's Grotto, tasted some interesting wines at the Winery Collective, and browsed the art show at the Cannery before going home to dress for Magic Flute. Dinner was post-performance at Jardinere--our annual gourmet treat. Today we have lunch with my sister and her husband, then catch a performance of Scottsboro Boys at ACT. Home tomorrow. It's been a crowded but entertaining week.

Feminism & Classics VI

The sixth in the series of "Feminism and Classics" conferences took place on May 24 to 27 in St. Catharines, Ontario, Canada, with Brock University hosting. The theme was "Crossing Borders, Crossing Lines," and contributors seemed to have taken "borders" and "lines" in terms of psychosexual identity, since there were not just papers but whole sessions on the intersection of gender, sexuality, and the body. In fact, I would say that transgender experience and the phenomenon of the transgressive body (hermaphrodites, eunuchs) were two dominant themes. In contrast to F&C V, there were fewer "literary" presentations; texts were not as popular this time around. There was also less unadulterated theory. Cultural studies was the methodology of choice. Kathy Gaca gave the keynote address "Ancient Warfare and the Forcible Penetration of Borders, Communities, and Boundaries." This was part of her ongoing project defining mass rape and enslavement of non-combatants as a recognized strategy of ancient warfare ("andrapodization"). She painted it as genocide, as indeed it is: her fundamental point is that it aimed at destroying cultural heritage and wiping out the group identity of a vanquished people. While the presentation was brilliant, its impact was disturbing. Throughout there was a striking lack of energy in the room; the audience listened in complete stillness and at the end simply filed out quietly. After we had time to think about her arguments, though, and distance ourselves from the emotive content, we realized what a courageous project she is undertaking. When the book comes out it will be one of the most significant studies in the field and may attract the attention of the scholarly world at large. Mary-Kay Gamel's production of Alcestis continued the tradition of dramatic readings at F&C VI. This was one of her most memorable efforts, partly because it was so well acted and partly because of the changed ending. Her Alcestis was no longer silent at the end; instead she made up her own mind (with a little audience help) and walked out on both Admetus and Death, taking the rest of the cast with her. Admetus and Pheres were left alone to reconcile. This was, I pointed out in the post-production discussion, the one false note, as the mutual fury they expressed in the agon seemed to preclude any kind of future concord. I moderated a session on "Architecture and Gender" which was pretty eclectic--five papers on topics as varied as the meaning of the program of Danaid sculptures in the portico of Apollo's temple on the Palatine and public building contributions to their native cities by female donors. Discussion was excellent, with many good comments from junior scholars and graduate students. Finally, my own presentation occurred as part of a retrospective panel on previous conferences in the series, going back to the very first meeting in Cincinnati in 1992. Many changes have happened within the field, and one of the big questions raised during the wrap-up session, urgently voiced by Barbara McManus, is whether the category of "feminism" has lost the meaning it had then, and consequently whether the kinds of papers presented now are feminist in the classic sense. That in turn should provoke some discussion at Feminism & Classics VII--scheduled for 2016, probably at an institution in the southeast part of the United States. It was the height of spring on the Brock campus, with weather already a bit hot (for Canada, I should say) and temperatures in the 80s. The campus contained many idyllic spots, particularly the Pond Inlet outside the auditorium where Alcestis was presented.

Inviting walking and jogging opportunities. I went out to dinner at local restaurants with a number of good friends, including Bonnie MacLaughlin and Ann Suter. The banquet, held at a local winery, was not as successful as some others--facilities were rather noisy and the staff seemed overwhelmed. As always, though, I got to chat with several people I hadn't seen for some time. I came home feeling that CAMWS and APA are pretty much professional meetings and, as such, can be tiring and occasionally depressing, but F&C is always like a class reunion.

Summing Up

OK. What can I take away from this cruise experience? Certainly it has been both bad and good. On the negative side: the guides' presentations were for the most part disconcerting, if not upsetting. Too many were pitched at a less educated audience. Granted, Greek and presumably Turkish law allows only licensed guides to explain sites, and clearly the guides themselves, except for the two well-informed gentlemen in Istanbul, regard their task as primarily entertainment. Facts come second. I'm afraid one has to put up with that. I was also concerned about the access problems Ron ran into. Some of the sites were rugged, and he definitely would have had a hard time at Aphrodisias. Mosques, with their rules about wearing shoes, were an even greater problem. If we were to do a Black Sea cruise, which features Byzantine and medieval history, there would be a large Islamic component and he might not be able to enter some of the places we were scheduled to visit. Positive features, though: first, Bill and Suzanne Murray were excellent hosts who made a point of bringing the three academic couples in the group together and facilitating socialization. Second, access to the Archaeological Museum at Istanbul and to Rhodes, Delos, Samos, Ephesus, and Aphrodisias was a stunning experience. Even though the first few days of the trip covered material I knew well, I was exposed to so much new stuff that the cruise could easily be justified on professional development grounds. Second, I've learned a lot I didn't previously know about Islam. After I accidentally left my copy of Cameron in the Athens hotel, I borrowed David Levering Lewis' God's Crucible: Islam and the Making of Europe, 570-1215 (New York and London: W. W. Norton, 2008) from the ship's library and have been working through it, especially on long bus rides. Lewis concentrates on the rise of Islam, starting with the long-drawn-out conflict between the Eastern Roman Empire and Persia beginning in the fourth century, which, in his view, exhausted both sides and weakened them to the point that they became easy targets for militant Islam after the death of Mohammed. His particular focus is Islamic Spain vs. the Christian Franks under Charlemagne. What strikes me after reading his work is that Christianity may not have been the principal factor in the change of sexual protocols after the second century CE, as I had assumed (along with most other scholars who follow Foucault). Islam must have been part of the mix as well, and I should take account of that when writing the last chapter and the conclusion of Sexuality. (Although I need to bear in mind that Islamic sexual protocols are closer to the ancient sex and gender scheme than to those of Christianity.) For the rest of it, the normal cruise amenities--food, relaxation--are acceptable, though the cuisine is suited to conservative tastes and sitting around without exercise is something I'm not used to. I should have risen early and joined the aerobics class. We have made some good acquaintances on board, so it is possible we will keep in touch. And, factoring in the costs of airfare, travel between sites, and food and lodging per diem, a cruise works out to about as much money as I would spend on a normal European vacation, except that expenses are front-loaded. As long as I don't go on any trip on which I know more than the tour guides, AIA cruises are a viable solution to the problem of planning an overseas holiday that works for both Ron and myself.

Final Day

In the morning, we passed the Chalcedonian peninsula and the monasteries on Mt. Athos. The Macedonian coast is impressively rugged, and one can see why access to a navigable harbor was so important to Philip II. Most of the day involved sitting around reading, as we had packed early and had nothing else to do. In the afternoon, we welcomed a brief excursion to the island of Skiaros. One near miss getting there: as our tender was bringing us from ship to shore, the power motor failed, leaving us adrift in the middle of the bay right in the path of a much bigger ship bearing down on us. The crew got the motor restarted before an accident happened, but it was close. Skiaros is strictly a tourist stop, with no sights at all. However, the weather was warm after damp Istanbul, the breeze was pleasant, and it was nice to stretch our legs. We found a shop selling olive oil, soaps, and honey and stocked up on gifts. Ron wanted to get some Greek marmalade, but none of the shops we tried stocked it. In the evening we had a final reunion with our friends outside the Terrace Cafe, just as the sun was setting. I was able to take several pictures of the magnificent sunset and, of course, a wonderful group photo to e-mail to everyone. Below, left to right: myself, Marc and Marjorie Raynor, Nancy and Chuck Carlson, Bill and Suzanne Murray, and Ron. Suzanne presented me with a jar of marmelade she found in the one store we didn't check. It has been a very happy time. Though it is sad to part, quoting Catullus seems particularly apposite: O dulces comitum valete coetus longe quos simul a domo profectos diversae varie viae reportant. O sweet assembly of comrades, farewell, whom, ventured together far from home, assorted paths will variously bring back. (46.9-11) ***********************

Istanbul, Day Two

Only one more morning in Istanbul, as the cruise ship was due to depart at noon. We went to the sixteenth-century Mosque of Sulayman the Magnificent and the fourth-century CE Chora Church, with its fourteenth-century mosaics. Again Ron could not enter the mosque and had to sit outside, but other group members were with him this time, and they were all joined by a friendly tomcat who purred his way from one lap to another. Sulayman's mosque, built a century earlier than the Blue Mosque, was even plainer in appearence, though immensely large, and did contain a huge pair of candlesticks brought by the sultan from Hungary. After the visit, we ran into a considerable traffic jam that made it impossible for the tour bus to pick us up and had to make our way down a busy street and get onto the bus illegally parked in a traffic zone. Traffic in Istanbul is worse than that in Athens or Rome and approaches conditions in Naples, which is saying something. Our trek to the bus did give me the opportunity to snap a typical street scene (right). The Chora, dating from the fourth century CE, contains Byzantine frescos painted shortly before the fall of the city. They were whitewashed under Ottoman occupation and restored when the church was converted into a museum again. Conditions were difficult, as usual, for indoor photography. On the other hand, I did get a nice picture of the exterior, as well as one of three half-grown cats sleeping on the surrounding grass. I also purchased a gorgeous Pashima scarf for ten lira ($1.50), though I'll have to put off wearing it until the next time I visit a mosque. Lunch was especially fun yesterday. We sat outside and feasted on calimari and scallops while the ship pulled out of Istanbul harbor. We broke our rule and had a second glass of wine with lunch, then retired for a nap. In the afternoon we heard Bill Murray lecture on Xerxes' invasion of Greece and Michael Higgins, a British geologist from the University of Quebec, explain the conditions that led to the silting up of Ephesus' harbor and the abandonment of the Temple of Artemis, one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. His theory that the original form of the goddess was a meteorite and that her unusual iconography reflects her extraterrestrial origins didn't seem to convince many people. (He was pretty diffident about it himself.) I think the clue to her unusual costume lies in the resemblance between it and that of the cult statue of Aphrodite at Aphrodisias. Both goddesses must be avatars of older Near Eastern divinities whose costume reflects their function as fertility powers. Instructions for final disembarkation reminded us that tomorrow will be our last day aboard ship, so I will dedicate the concluding entry to summing up my impressions.

Istanbul, Day One

This was a very long day. It began with a morning excursion to see the Blue Mosque, Hagia Sophia, and Topkapi Palace. We disembarked on the site of the Hippodrome, and, although it is now merely a plaza, it still contains the New Kingdom pyramid of Tutmose III mounted on a base showing the emperor Theodosius in the imperial box holding the crown of victory. At the seventeenth-century Blue Mosque, we discovered that the rule regarding removal of shoes was strictly enforced. Ron had to wait outside while the group went in. This was a particular pity, since the tour guide, an older man, was very professional and explained a great deal about Islamic religious practice, especially the Friday rituals. I was embarrassed because I was not wearing a headscarf, though many other women were bareheaded. Having never been in a working mosque before--only the mosque in Cordoba, preserved as a museum--I was surprised at the lack of furnishings compared to those of a Christian church. The walls, however, were elegantly decorated with the patterned blue tiles that give the mosque its name. Then on to Hagia Sophia, which was every bit as marvelous as I expected it to be. It is a miracle that this wonder of late antiquity is preserved so well--even the absence of the original mosaics did not detract from its beauty, because the Islamic designs that replaced them blend in perfectly. It is no longer illuminated by candles, as Paul the Silentiary describes it, and the electric lighting is somewhat harsh, but I still managed to take one or two good pictures (see left) despite difficult conditions for photography--tremendous variation in exposure. (I wonder how much literature there is on Paul's ekphrastic epigram? Now that I've seen the original, I ought to check out the nuances.) We were told that it remained a functioning mosque until the 1930s, when it was converted into a museum. I'm very grateful that I've had the chance to see both the Pantheon in Rome and Hagia Sophia, as I now have a fairly accurate mental picture of what an Imperial-era bath or temple looked like inside. Not much to say, I'm afraid, about Topkapi Palace. We saw only the council chamber and three rooms in the Treasury. The famous dagger is OK, but I'm not particularly impressed by jewelry and fancy metalwork. Bill and Suzanne Murray had organized a separate excursion to the Archaeological Museum, since that was (inexplicably) not on the official program. Six of us went--Marc and Marjorie Raynor, Chuck and Nancy Carlson, and us. The museum was indeed worth the visit. Apart from the sarcophagi from the Royal Necropolis at Sidon, including the "Alexander Sarcophagus" portraying Alexander hunting with King Abdalonymus, we saw an excellent head of Alexander from Pergamum, a portrait bust of Sappho, and, something I had forgotten I would find there, the two commemorative steles set up to honor Porphyrius the charioteer, made famous by Alan Cameron. My only regret is that we did not have time to explore all the holdings and had to confine ourselves to the first floor (though I did run up briefly to the second to scope out the holdings from Troy--almost entirely pottery). If we ever come back to Istanbul, I will skip the mosques and spend all day at the museums, of which there are several. One unfortunate incident soured the day. After the museum, Bill found two taxis for the group. There were only six of us by then, as Marc and Marjorie stayed on to see more, so three of us got into each. The taxi driver, after dropping us off suspiciously far from the dock where the Aegean Odyssey was tied up (he said there was no way to get closer because of the traffic), attempted to charge us sixty-eight Turkish lira for what we had been told by the cruise agent was only a twenty-lira ride. (For comparison, the museum entrance fee was ten lira). Suzanne complained angrily, and we got into a very heated argument with him. Then Bill came up, and we learned that the driver was trying to charge us for both taxi rides and that Bill's driver had attempted exactly the same scam. Meanwhile, I had given Suzanne a fifty-lira bill, and the driver deftly palmed it and then claimed it was only a five. He and his colleague, who were obviously in cahoots, finally drove off after many more bitter words. In short, a really nasty scene. Bill and Suzanne were very embarrassed because both Nancy and I had overpaid. However, the amount in dollars wasn't that much--110 lira works out to $18.33--and the real issue was simply that we had been brazenly scammed. We worried that Marc and Marjorie, who were by themselves, might run into the same crooked driver, but they assured us this morning that their driver had been absolutely pleasant and completely honest, as far as they could tell. Luck of the draw.

Dardanelles

Today was a free day, so Ron and I spent most of our time reading, although I also took the opportunity to update this journal. The highlight of the day was passing through the Dardanelles and trying to spot Rhoeteum. Unfortunately I did not check its location before I left--and it really didn't occur to me that I would be passing by on the cruise--and consequently all I could do was guess. I missed the Achilleon at the entrance to the Dardanelles entirely. I remembered that Rhoeteum was above the Achilleon, nearer to Çanekkale, and the city itself was easy to identify, but there was nothing to indicate where Rhoeteum was. I did get a very good picture of Cape Nara, the site of ancient Abydos (left), and was unhappy to see that there seemed to be jeeps and heavy equipment at the top. I do have a sense now of what Troy and the surrounding terrain look like. Homer, by the way, was correct in calling it "windy." On a hill above Çanekkale there was a long line of windmills generating energy. Meanwhile, the gusts were so fresh on the ship that I occasionally had a hard time keeping the camera steady.

Aphrodisias

Description of the walking conditions at Aphrodisias as Grade 3, with steep stairs and uncertain footing, deterred Ron from going on the excursion. Rainy weather threatened as we disembarked, but in Aprodisias itself, a two and a half hour bus trip away, it was sunny and soon rather hot. Hearing a far-off muezzin call Friday prayers as we walked through the site was definitely memorable. We had the same Turkish guide as the day before, but someone must have said something to him, because there were no potty jokes and instead informative lectures on the history of Turkey and the present political and religious circumstances. The trek through the ruins was as rough as promised, though I've seen worse. Aphrodisias itself is a great place, beautifully restored. Little remains, unfortunately, of the Temple of Aphrodite, but the Sebasteion, a monument to Augustus erected by Zoilius, probably the freedman of Julius Caesar, who became a town benefactor, is impressive. The original reliefs are in the on-site museum. It was nice to see the famous representations of Agrippina as the wife of Claudius (below left) and crowning her son Nero (below right). Dinner with Nancy and Chuck Carlson and Marc and Marjorie Raynor. Conversation was difficult, as we sat outside on the deck and voices were sometimes drowned out by the ship's engines. Still, I enjoyed myself. Afterwards, early bedtime, since Aphrodisias did tire me. Everyone is looking forward to the free day tomorrow.

Samos and Ephesus

Today was a busy day of ruins, visiting Samos in the morning and Ephesus in the afternoon. At Samos, the chief attraction was the Vathy Museum, with its monumental kouros and the original statues from the Genelaus family complex, and, on site, the Heraion. Ephesus offered a greater number of sights, including the newly uncovered Terrace Houses and the Library of Celsus. For more on the Terrace Houses, see below. I was glad to see the last of Myrto, who persisted in providing inaccurate information (Samos was pillaged by Verres--she was confusing it with Sicily) and retelling the same myths over and over. The carelessness of the tour guides is by far the worst feature of the cruise. I keep reminding myself that they are pitching it to the lowest common denominator; but, judging by the number of academics I've encountered so far, they have badly underestimated the intelligence of the clientele. (I keep remembering the tour of Ireland after the international feminist conference in 1987, where the entire bus stopped the tour guide in the middle of her spiel about leprechauns and demanded to know about history and politics instead.)

The guide who took us to Ephesus was a Turkish male who fancied himself a comedian and flirted with the ladies, when he wasn't being condescending. His worst faux pas was making potty jokes as we toured the latrine. On the other hand, the visit to the Terrace Houses was really informative because of the extent to which the interior decoration was preserved (in some cases, better than that at Pompeii). Wall painting ranged in date from the second to fourth centuries CE. Terrace House 6, obviously that of an extremely wealthy family, had a great hall covered in marble, like that of the Domus Augustana, while Terrace House 2, which was subdivided and let to poorer renters during the fourth century, had inscribed graffiti listing prices--at some time, a taberna must have been located there. Rooms were still nicely decorated, with impressive mosaics including one of a lion and another of Neptune and Amphitrite. Painting style, although reminiscent of Pompeiian fourth style, had unusual iconography--painting on doorway passage and small allegorical female figures on white background are features I have seldom encountered before. Although we should have known better, we later went to a showing of Turkish rugs arranged by our guide. The head salesman targeted Ron while I was trying to take a photograph of the display and proceeded to try a hard sell on both of us. We got away without buying anything, but only by being rude and walking out. Although I would like to do some shopping in Istanbul, the hassle would probably be overwhelming, especially if I were to try buying jewelry.

Delos

While the ruins themselves are not as spectacular as those we are supposed to see at Ephesus and Aphrodisias, Delos is undoubtedly a place that a classical scholar has to visit at least once in her life. To perceive the barrenness of the island is to realize the paradoxical quality of its importance as celebrated in the Homeric Hymn to Apollo and Callimachus' Hymn to Delos. Here is a panoramic glimpse of the site.

After returning to the ship and listening to a presentation on Ephesus--quite tepid, in contrast to the vivid and lively talks by Bill and Suzanne--I was hoping to see the windmills of Mykonos and perhaps do a little shopping. The winds, however, were fierce, making it impossible for Ron to get into the tender. We settled instead for coffee on the observation deck and our respective books. Not a particularly eventful afternoon and evening, but one can't be entertained all the time.

Rhodes

This morning's excursion to Rhodes has been one of the better experiences of the cruise (and a considerable improvement over the Knossos fiasco). Our guide Maria (tour guides vary with the locale) took us on a bus trip around the Graeco-Roman acropolis (photo-ops but no chance to get out and walk the site), then led us on a brisk walk from the reconstructed Grand Master's Headquarters in the Fortress of the Knights of St. John down the Street of the Knights to the Hospital, now the Archaeological Museum of Rhodes. The headquarters, destroyed by an explosion under the Ottoman Turks and rebuilt by the occupying Italians as a residence for the then king Victor Emmanuel III under Mussolini, features colorful late antique mosaics in an excellent state of preservation from houses and basilicas on Cos. The museum, though, was the real gem. It contains some splendid ancient sculpture, and I was excited to see the very different iconography of late antique local funerary steles, which represent individuals and families in full-body frontal position.

Of course, the great treasure there is the stele of Krito and Timarista, certainly without any Athenian parallel, as far as I know. If I ever teach Women and Gender in Antiquity again, it would be nice to use the image below as the basis of a paper question. The afternoon and evening were also a treat. We found that coffee and tea were available all day on the observation deck, a comfortable place to sit and read. In the evening we heard Bill give a superb lecture on the siege of Rhodes by Demetrios son of Antigonos the One-Eyed in 305 BCE. Our ship was moored in the harbor where the battle actually took place, lending the lecture an immediacy that AIA lectures don't normally have. Afterward, the whole AIA tour group had dinner together in the Terrace Cafe. The food was excellent, wine flowed freely, and even the least communicative found shared interests. This was without doubt the best day of the entire cruise so far. If they were all like that, I would be going on one every year.

Crete

I was looking forward to seeing Knossos. On my first visit to Greece in 1967, I never left the mainland and only later realized that I should have taken the opportunity to explore more Bronze Age sites. So one factor in choosing this particular cruise was the prospect of a full day there. However, the itinerary put us at Crete on Monday, a day when Greek museums are closed. Thus we had no chance to see the original Knossos frescoes at the Heraklion Museum. The site itself was a sad disappointment. Like Pompeii, Knossos attracts hordes, tour groups were everywhere running into one another, and we could see just the exterior of Evans' reconstruction. The Throne Room and the Queen's Chamber could only be viewed through (dirty) plexiglass.

Marc Raynor said that when he brought his kids there several decades ago, nothing on the site was restricted and there were merely a handful of visitors. The fact that Evans' concrete walls are crumbling--again, like houses in Pompeii--comments ironically upon the great archaeologist's aspirations. Well, at least the sacral horns (left) are holding up soundly.

I was also pleased to learn the exact location of the so-called Dancing Floor of Ariadne at the end of the processional way (right). It makes the reference in Book 18 of Homer's Iliad all that more mysterious.

Monemvasia

Monemvasia, a late antiquity Laconian settlement, has no ancient sites to speak of and today is known chiefly for its Byzantine churches. Although the old buildings had charm and the streets were nice to stroll through before it became too warm, I will remember it for a very memorable lunch on the pier--Greek salad, grilled shrimps, and a half-bottle of local white wine. The olive oil was incredibly good; it put the lighter oil on the dinner salad in the cruise ship's first-class restaurant to shame. Indeed the dinner fell far short of aspirations. After dinner we attended a showing of Captain Corelli's Mandolin, an innocuous feel-good movie. I'm convinced that the food, entertainment, lectures, and even excursions are designed to be non-threatening to the clientele, whose average age, I've heard, is 67. I should say something about the Greek elections, which took place on Sunday. Opposition parties predictably won a strong victory. Two of our guides, probably in violation of tour protocol, expressed vociferous disapproval of Angela Merkell, whose policies they blamed for everything. Myrto, one guide, predicted that the elections would result in a fractured Parliament unable to agree on a prime minister. She was certainly right in foreseeing that the coalition government would lose its majority--the two mainstream parties together won only 32% of the vote. On the following day, the other guide was horrified that the neo-Nazi party had won twenty seats, or 7%. She pointed out that there were factors the foreign press, blaming Greece for its wastefulness, does not take into consideration--for example, that Greece has no heavy industry and that the average Greek worker makes one-third the wage of the average German. For what it's worth, the international news has been dominated by the French election and the ouster of Sarkozy in favor of a Socialist who has promised to renegotiate the agreements forcing indebted governments to adopt austerity measures.

Mycenae and Epidaurus

So far I have not been impressed by any of the Greek guides. They're friendly enough, but they've all been through the same training program. Hearing the identical anecdote retold twice in one day by two different persons (with slightly different details) becomes tedious. Occasionally the information provided is downright wrong, and the guide must know that. For example, at the Epidaurus Museum the guide told the group that the inscriptions on the wall were records of cures at the temple of Asclepius. They weren't; they were clearly labeled in Greek and English as records of construction expenses. On the positive side, though, Mycenae is much more accessible than it was the first time I visited there in 1967, but it hasn't lost any of its numinosity. Here is the dromos of the Treasury of Atreus.

Epidaurus, which was much less crowded, was certainly pleasant, even in the afternoon heat. The parodos of the theatre has been reconstructed, but the rest of the structure is much the same as it was in antiquity.

Cape Sounion and Embarcation

For our last land excursion before embarking on the Aegean Odyssey, we traveled out to Cape Sounion to see the Temple of Poseidon. Basically, a relaxing drive through beautiful country and an impressive sight. The ruins are quite imposing and the surrounding vistas gorgeous. Highlight of the trip was the noisy partridges that could be heard all around us and occasionally glimpsed. This fellow posed nicely for photos (below).

After returning to the hotel, we boarded a bus for the Piraeus and transferred to the Aegean Odyssey. Though this ship is relatively small as cruise ships go, it certainly has all the amenities. While our stateroom is tiny, we don't find it confining. Chris, our steward, is extremely attentive. We didn't see any of our fellow AIA voyagers the first evening, which I spent in the Charleston Lounge, having a drink and updating this journal. I discovered, however, that in the rush of morning packing I had left Averil Cameron's book on late antiquity, borrowed from the University library, back in the hotel room. Internet on the ship is incredibly slow, but I finally managed to contact the hotel staff and ask them to mail the book back to me, charging my VISA for the postage. They were very courteous and reassuring. While spending a couple of expensive hours on the Internet, I also gave permission as one of the co-editors to send the proofs of Narrating Desire to press. Getting that manuscript into production was a miserable process, involving much wasted and reduplicated effort. Even if there are still a few typos, I'll be happy to hear no more of it. When I return to Tucson, the first priority, finally, will be finishing off Sexuality!

Meeting the Tour Group; Visiting the Acropolis and the Cycladic Museum

At breakfast on Thursday, we finally met Bill and Suzanne Murray and the rest of the tour participants. I had been hoping to maintain relative anonymity, but it turns out that Bill knew my name and work--a student of his had quoted my Sexuality book in a paper on Plutarch. There is at least one other academic among the participants, a British medievalist retired from U of Denver, and I like his commitment to learning more about related and corollary fields of interest. First excursion, in the morning, was to the new Acropolis Museum. Some familiar items from the archaic temple of Athena have been moved there, but for the most part what strikes you is the plaster casts where the Elgin Marbles should be. It is very postclassical and very sterile.
Unfortunately, the climb up to the Acropolis was a little too much for a number of people, including Ron. When I was in my twenties, I remember, the ascent did not seem all that steep. The visitors at the time were far fewer and the accessibility to all the monuments greater. Yet I still recall reacting to the behavior of the crowds then: "Not so loud; this is a holy place." The mob yesterday reminded me of my last experience visiting the Vatican Museums, being shepherded in a long roped-off queue past someone's idea of what tourists should be seeing. I swore off the Vatican Museums then as I swore off Pompeii before that, and I'm swearing off the Athenian Acropolis now. Nothing will make me go back. As it is, Ron gave out before reaching the Propylon Gate, and I had no regrets abandoning the climb and walking him back to the bus boarding area. On the way up, though, I got a couple of excellent photographs of Herodes Atticus' Odeon, which I may be able to include in the second version of Sexuality, in the context of the Second Sophistic subsection.
The Cycladic Museum visit in the afternoon convinced me that I will never again go on an organized tour to any part of Greece, even if I don't know the locales. As everyone knows, Greek law provides that explanations of sites have to be given by Greek-trained guides: tour leaders, no matter their scholarly credentials, just stand to one side. At the Acropolis Museum in the morning, I heard the guide speak in all seriousness about pre-Greek matriarchy. OK, I'm tolerant of feminist extremism. However, I expected an honest and trained tour guide taking a group around the Cycladic Museum to bring up the issue of fakes, if only to warn interested collectors. Not one mention of the "f---" word. Worse, she raised the topic of Greek homosexuality in the context of showing viewers a red-figure vase depicting two Greek youths energetically dancing with two other figures wearing the sakkos--the iconographic symbol of a courtesan. If tour guides are abandoning scholarly rigor in order to indulge in sensationalism, any attempts we might make to educate the public are doomed. In the evening, we had one serendipitous experience. As we were walking in what we hoped was the general direction of the Plaka, a gentleman asked me if he could help out with directions. When I said that we were going to have dinner, he immediately suggested a good fish restaurant in the area and offered to walk us there. Well, OK, at first you figure the con is on. But it turned out that he sold shoes at a neighborhood store, his wife was from New Jersey, and he apparently wanted to do a couple of Americans a favor. He took us to a restaurant called Ithaki, introduced us to the manager, and asked him to give us some really fresh fish. Ron ordered salmon, I ordered grouper (which I had just seen, pink and healthy, on ice in the fish case). That and a great Greek salad with tangy Feta cheese, plus an interesting bottle of Greek chardonnay, made for a really outstanding dinner. An after-dinner drink at the hotel rooftop bar topped off a memorable visit to a local neighborhood restaurant--which we learned of from a chance meeting.

First Day in Athens: Shopping for Necessities and Visiting the Plaka

We had an excuse to go out, even if we had been traveling for twenty-four hours. In my haste to make sure I had packed all the right clothes and set up my computer to download and organize images from my new Nikon digital camera, I forgot to take my green travel bag with toothpaste, toothbrush, and dental floss. Ron was expecting me to bring toothpaste, so he had none either. You would think it easy to find toiletries in downtown Athens. Wrong. On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, stores close at 3:00 p.m., even in the central area, and don't reopen until the next day. Ron and I walked the streets looking for a 7-11, a mom-and-pop grocery store, a Boots, a Walgreen's--nothing. Where, incidentally, do you buy toothpaste in Greece? Not in an expensive pharmacy, which seemed to sell only perfumes, not in a high-end department store selling even more expensive perfumes, not from a street-corner kiosk, although I did find the right Greek word (odontokrema) in my I-pod "Essential Greek" app. Finally I sent Ron home and set out on my own, following the main street running south from the square. I turned down a side street just to get a closer look at an interesting Byzantine church, and lo and behold I was in the Plaka, where everything was open. Found a neighborhood pharmacy that did stock toiletries, found a stand selling hats (another thing I had forgotten to pack) and then wandered around the Plaka, looking at shops I would like to come back and visit. For example, a display of hand-embroidered linens caught my eye.

Back at the hotel, we decided on a restaurant around the corner, Pasaji, which was offering a free glass of Prosecco and a 20% dinner discount on Voyages to Antiquity travel participants. We were the only ones to take advantage of the offer. The waiter was a newbie and, unfortunately, a klutz. The first thing he did was spill a glass of Prosecco all over the table--not on us, thank goodness, but the menus and tablecloth were through for the night. After we were reseated, reassuring him that we had suffered no injury, we ordered two very good fish entrees and a glass each of premium wine in addition to the Prosecco. Total bill was only 47 euros!

We finished the evening on the rooftop bar of the Grande Bretagne hotel, where we watched the setting sun reflected off the Parthenon marble, or what remains of it, and had our pictures taken to prove we were there.

Getting to Athens

We left Tucson for our trip to Athens and cruise around the Greek Islands and Turkey on Monday, April 30, around 4:00 p.m. Drove up to Phoenix, where we parked our car for the duration at Best Western Tempe. First shock came when I double-checked our itinerary and discovered that our previously scheduled 7:15 a.m. departure had been changed to 6:00 a.m. Early wakeup call notwithstanding, we had a nice dinner at Marti's, a famous old restaurant near the ASU Tempe campus. Photo on left shows aircraft in Phoenix ready for departure.

No problem catching our first and second flights, but we had scarcely an hour and a half between landing in Paris and boarding our flight to Athens, and during that time we had to clear customs, go through a second security inspection, and walk miles through the airport and even outside to catch the bus that would take us to our aircraft. We made the plane with five minutes to spare. Harrowing.

Some marvelous sights in transit: dawn over France, with lights of the cities immediately below and sun rising in the East (left) and flying into Athens over Greece, seeing mountains in the foreground and the sea in the distance (right). After landing in Athens, we were met by representatives of the tour group Voyages to Antiquity and taken to the Hotel Grande Bretagne on Syntagma Square.

En route, we were warned repeatedly that this was a first-class hotel in a convenient location, but--Syntagma Square, across from the Greek Parliament, had been the scene of repeated mass anti-government demonstrations. Since the national elections to choose a new parliament were scheduled for Sunday, disturbances could take place (more on the elections later). As it turned out, though, the one demonstration planned for the evening of May 3 completely fizzled--when we walked past the square on the way home, I saw only a few flares sent up as indications that anything unusual was going on. Our room was comfortable and cool. The accommodations were really first-class, particularly the breakfasts on the roof garden of the hotel and the friendly atmosphere of the bar in the evenings. After unpacking and showering, we felt ready to see the town--jet lag notwithstanding!

Introduction: Aegean Odyssey Cruise 2012

To start the blog going, I will post a series of consecutive journal entries written on a recent cruise from Athens to Istanbul and back on the ship Aegean Odyssey. This trip was sponsored by the Archaeological Institute of America (AIA), which hosts a number of antiquity-themed excursions every year. Although I had been to mainland Greece before, I had never visited any of the islands nor been to Turkey, and cruising was also a new experience. My husband Ron, who did a lot of sailing when he was younger, loves the sea and had always wanted to go to Greece. This was a dream trip for both of us--let's see how it worked out.