"Ermoupolis on the Island of Syros" Ermoupolis by budapest8

Ermoupolis Travel Guide: 24 reviews and 59 photos

The priest ran the church pension


Will write more soon about this fantastic
2 week holiday on Syros staying in a church
with a priest who only had female guests at the time,
2 English mums with their young daughters and an
Italian girl in her late 3ö's who looked like Sophie Loren,
NO I'm not kidding. Also a young German couple.
Daytime the Roman Catholic priest dressed in his black robes and night-
time in shorts and a t-shirt and sandals.
Naked sunbathing on the flat roof of the building
was permitted.
I remember the image of the Roman Catholic church where
we stayed on top of one hill in the Venetian style buildings
and on the other hill the Greek Orthadox church.
I think most of the people in the town were Roman Catholics.
Walking around the narrow alleys of the capital of Syros,
the beautiful Hermoupolis, visitors can admire many fine
Catholic and Orthodox churches decorating the town.
More churches can be found in the Venetian town of Ano Syros


WILL WRITE SOON MORE OF MANY
EVENTS THAT HAPPENED THAT HOLIDAY.


Because, the Cyclades are light. Above everything, light. "An endless summer, as if until now he gilds them "Lord Byron chants amazed. A light lavishly transparent, pure gold and white. Light of the sun and of the clouds, of the rock and of the mastic trees, of the beach and of the bottoms, of the stars and of the night, of the temples and of the castle, of the houses "at the neighbouring of the glaucous", of the girls who laugh and of the sea-gulls who play with the reefs at sunset.

In such a light, only light could be born. Glowing still through its scattered remnants, their ancient and most beautiful civilization shines. It was the cradle from which all the following great Greek civilizations got their life and power. In all its phases, the Cycladean Civilization, in its glory and in its decline, winner and defeated, with adventures or without, it was human and Greek. With moderation, sense, not in the least supernatural but harmonically connected with its surrounding beauty and nature.

All the creations emit this sense. Ancient temples and scattered statues, Kouros and idols, monasteries and castle, churches and deserted churches, stone paved narrow street and squares, old noble houses "archontika" and humble rustic ones, arched arcades and fountains, yards and alleys, ruins and deserted mills. All together and dispersed children of yesterday and to day, call us forth in their spell.

They scream, silent witnesses but at the same time eloquent, of peoples' passage (their imprint and their continuity) alike deep inside, Greeks of beauty and measure. Because, even today's Cycladeans always continue the tradition of their ancestors. Famous craftsmen of the scalpel and the paint-brush, verse, great scientists and wise men, navigators and skippers, artists and simple common people, all follow the same road with the older, giving their own fight for culture and man.

They preserve many of their old customs and live them with a religious faith. Songs of love, expatriation, death, faith, spontaneously spring from their soul, alike clear cool spring water, alike the sea breeze.

Every island, a special note. And all together an ancient, present and eternal melody. Andros with the springs and the greenery, Tinos the pious shrine of the Holy Virgin, Delos the birthplace of Apollo, Thira of volcanoes and wine, the cheerful los, the inaccessible Amorgos of the poets, Sifnos of ceramic art and Gripari, Paros of the famous Arhilohos and marble, the unexpected Folegandros, the humble Sikinos, Milos of the catacombs, Naxos of dancing and music, the reclusive Anafi, the sail experienced Kithnos, the serious Kea. All branches of the same tree. A tree where inside it flow the juices of the most fertile coexistence.

The natural beauty, the minds' flight, the spiritual refinement. The Cycladean beauty enchanted many creators of the paintbrush and the speech, they were inspired and they sang for it. Among them. "Worthy" the poet of the Aegean. Elitis in "Worthy Is" celebrates and is himself with his eternal verse.

Worthy is the wooden table
the yellow wine with the spot of the sun
the waters' games on the ceiling
at the corner the leaf tree which officiates

The stones and the waves hand - in - hand
a sole which accumulated wisdom in the sand
A cicada which convinced thousands of other ones
the conscience all lit like summer

  • Last visit to Ermoupolis: Dec 1979
  • Intro Written Apr 26, 2006
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Reviews (5)

Comments (3)

  • nickandchris's Profile Photo
    Dec 1, 2009 at 1:25 AM

    Sounds like you had an amazing experience here! The priest sounds a real character.....

  • STEFZAMM's Profile Photo
    May 16, 2006 at 12:13 AM

    This place is beautiful!! and these pages are really interesting ... well done ;)

  • Bwana_Brown's Profile Photo
    Apr 27, 2006 at 6:24 PM

    This island has had a very chequered past, but I think I could quite easily enjoy a few days there!! Beautiful view from your lodgings - a place that sounded quite interesting as well !

budapest8

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