Greece
Visiting Greece as a Girl
Ever since I explored Greece as an intrepid single 24-year-old in the late ‘70’s, I had longed to return, but not alone. And this time, I wanted to share the magic of that golden land and its mythological roots with my soulmate.
Ah, childish dreaming. Yet another myth, you may be thinking, for not many women ever find their prince. And so I humbly thank the gods and goddesses for the moment my eyes met his, on that theatre balcony in Encinitas, California, on Valentine’s Day, 1982.
Athens Again
By the time 1994 rolled around, fifteen years after my solo Grecian adventure and my vow to return with my true love, Mark and I sat side-by-side on a flight to Athens. The scenario I had imagined – just he and I lounging on island sand, swimming naked at Mykonos, drinking ouzo and eating moussaka, dancing to bouzouki music – was slightly altered. Mark and I were traveling with a video cameraman named Dick. We hired him for the European portion of our movie, “Full Cycle: A World Odyssey,” a mountain-bike travel adventure to nine different countries.
We would bypass the islands completely. We’d land in Athens, take a rental care to Delphi then Litochoro, a town at the eastern base of Mt. Olympos. Then we would return to Athens to spend our last few days in Greece. We’d be shooting our movie from dawn’s early light until the sun went down.
Upon our arrival in Athens, we hailed three taxis to transport Mark, Dick and me, two bike bags, three backpacks, a half-coffin-sized box of video equipment, a $30,000 Betacam SP camera, a tripod, a television monitor and two duffle bags stuffed with sponsor items, to our hotel in the city.
Taxi-Turvy
Mark, Dick and I each crammed ourselves with assorted baggage into our designated taxii. Then we were swept away, hopefully bound for the same destination. My driver did not speak much English, and my Greek was limited to “Good day,” “Good night” and the name of the hotel, “Lycabette.”
My taxi sped for forty-five minutes towards downtown as the whitewashed buildings multiplied and traffic congestion increased. I craned my neck searching for Mark’s and Dick’s cabs, feeling an edging terror of separation in this city of two and a half million. Finally I gave up on spotting the other two taxis and searched for the Parthenon to no avail.
Hotel Lycabette
Then my driver circled a city block, pulled up onto a sidewalk and cruised to a stop in front of the Hotel Lycabette. Very strange. A hotel that faced a sidewalk with no access to the street and therefore no parking. Of course the driver was illegally parked, but how else would we get our baggage into the hotel?
Within five minutes, the other two cabs pulled up behind mine. Immediately Mark, Dick and I engaged in the luggage-shuffle while checking into the hotel with a non-English-speaking concierge, and paying off the cabbies with nearly all the drachmas we had obtained at the airport.
An Ancient Scary Elevator
Between us we made six trips up on the shuddering elevator, then had to traverse one last stairway to the top floor which the elevator did not reach, and dragged our stuff to the room Mark and I would share.
Our room was typical of those we would encounter throughout Greece, and Europe, for that matter: two single beds separated by a night stand. Didn’t European couples enjoy sleeping in the same bed? Consequently, the first order of business was to shove the beds together. Dick came in with one last bike bag, and wheeled it to the balcony outside our window which overlooked a fenced-in empty lot.
Dick Crow looked like a cross between Fabio and Lorenzo Lamas. He had long, silky brown hair, and classic magazine-model features. He’d never been off the North American continent before. He had agreed to join us in Europe along with his Steadicam equipment for the opportunity to travel and see some new places.
We had agreed to pay him $3,000, room, board and travel expenses in exchange for his services. After setting the last piece of luggage into our room, he said, “You know, I thought we were going to have a crew.”
“We are the crew,” I said.
Who Wants to Grip?
“Yes, but I understood we would have a grip or something.” A “grip” is a laborer who carries equipment and does the director’s bidding, the “grunge” stuff.
“We are the grips,” Mark said. He paused. “This is a very ambitious project. We are traveling to nine countries all together, so the budget is extremely tight. We wish we could, but we can’t afford any crew other than ourselves.”
“Well, if I thought I’d be carting baggage all over Europe,” said Dick, “Then I would have wanted more money. You know, I can make $1,000 a day as a Steadicam operator.”
Uh oh, I thought. This isn’t good. Since Mark had been complaining about an aching back, and since Dick was fuming about “carting baggage,” I had a feeling that most of the heavy lifting would fall to me. “I’ll take care of the baggage,” I said, to appease Dick.
He lifted an eyebrow and said nothing for a moment.
“Can we discuss this later?” Mark said. “Let’s just get settled first.” He showed Dick to the door.
Dick nodded. “Okay. Later, then. But think about what I said.”
“Yeah,” Mark told him, closing the door after Dick.
Zombie Needs Sleep
Mark and I, of like mind, both made for the shoved-together beds and curled up to sleep. Just as I was sinking into a tender somnambulence, Mark growled. “Arrrgh!”
“What?” I was jerked back into the real world. “A mosquito?” Ever since his nine-month sojourn in India as a child, Mark could not, would not go to sleep with any insects present, particularly mosquitos which could be carrying malaria and other forms of death.
“No. There’s a spring in the mattress that’s jabbing me.”
“Oh.” I rolled back over to return to that weightless sinking.
He roused me. “C’mon, let’s turn this mattress over.”
Crappy Mattress
It was not me but a zombie that assisted him with stripping the bed, turning over the mattress, and tucking the sheets back in. Then I fell back onto my side of the bed. Just as I was approaching nirvana, once again,
“Arrggh!”
“What now?”
“This side’s worse than the other side was!”
“Okay, let’s trade mattresses, then.” I was not about to go through that tuck-and-roll drill again. I knew I could sleep fitfully on a bed of nails.
He and I traded sides.
“Okay now?” I asked him, my eyelids fully shut.
“Yeah.”
“Okay, do not bug me again.” It was amazing how quickly I left the waking world behind and floated lazily on my dream ship, even with an exposed spring that curled out like a beckoning claw.
We slept for four hours. When we awoke, dusk was underway. Through the balcony window we saw a bright orange sun sinking behind a hilly horizon crammed with white-washed buildings.
Athens Night Life
“Wow, it’s already sunset!” Mark said.
I still didn’t want to get up. I was ready to call it a night and sleep for the next twelve hours. When I curled back under the sheet, Mark objected.
“No, you don’t. We need to get acclimated. Let’s go explore the city. Do a little location scouting.”
“With or without Dick?”
“Oh, with, if he wants to come. “We do need to talk to him, you know.”
I sighed. “Yeah.” As the accountant for our business, and on this project, the panic that evolves from spending more money than you are generating, had sprung to the fore.
We dressed for a sultry evening of discovery and called Dick in his room. He agreed to join us.
So then, Mark and I headed down to Dick’s room which was two floors down.
Communication
“We’ve gotta talk,” were the first words out of my mouth when Dick let us into his room.
“So let’s talk,” he nodded, stretching his lanky frame out on one of the two single beds.
Mark and I sat down on the other bed. When Mark and Dick both looked at me, I said, “It seems like the reality of our journey is a little different than your expectations.”
“Well, that’s an understatement!” Dick chortled. “I thought there’d be more of a production crew. I just signed on as a Steadicam operator. That’s all I plan on doing.”
“That’s fine,” Mark said. “Patty and I’ll take care of hauling the equipment. You don’t have to worry about that.”
“It’s not like we’ll be shooting every moment of every day, either,” I added. “You’ll have time to do a little sightseeing, too.”
Dick nodded, considering. “Well, actually, I wouldn’t mind a little more money for my work.”
Mark replied, “Oh don’t worry, you’ll get a bonus, depending on how well the video turns out. We like to reward our camera people.”
“Well, okay, I guess that sounds all right,” Dick said. Then he clapped his hands and stood up. “Okay, how about getting something to eat? I’m starved!”
At dusk, we walked to a Plaka taverna to enjoy the first in a series of Greek salads, hummus, pita bread, and various forms of skewered meats upon which we would dine for the next two weeks. The Henneker beers were strong and appetizing, and by meal’s end, the three of us were toasting our good fortune to be together on this Grecian odyssey, and looking forward to tomorrow’s journey to Delphi.
On Our Way to Delphi
Even for veterans of Los Angeles traffic, driving out of Athens was nothing short of hair-raising. I got us out past the city limits, then surrendered the sweat-drenched steering wheel to Mark.
As we continued north along the highway towards Delphi, conversation was minimal, as we all indulged in the pretense of gazing at the passing scenery.
The landscape outside our speeding rental minivan was dry, light green and brown, with scattered houses and few trees on low mountain ranges, both sides of the road. Mark commented that the land here had been leveled hundreds of years ago to build war ships for the Peloponnesian War. “And they never could grow ‘em back.”
“That’s a mistake a lot of countries seem to be making,” I responded, eager for conversation that was political and not personal. “Look at the Brazilian rain forest.”
“Look at the Nile Valley,” said Mark. “Can you imagine that once was Eden?”
“Humans stop at nothing to mess up their environment,” said Dick.
“Hey, check this out,” Mark suddenly pulled the vehicle over and parked next to a graveyard. “Let’s grab some shots.”
He and Dick moved to pull the camera equipment from the back of the car while I jotted notes.
Two women in black dresses moved like ghosts between white-washed headstones, which were so jam-packed, it appeared the cemetery was more populated than the town up the road where several old men nursed iced coffees and cigarettes at tables in front of the main cafe.
As we continued north, the terrain grew greener, the cedars, pines and evergreens ever more profuse.
The strong beating sun drew out the sweat like a radiant-heat sauna as we three shifted uncomfortably in our non-air-conditioned vehicle.
Village of Delphi
We traversed Mt. Parnassos and arrived at the village of Delphi as the sun was setting.
Mark guided the car slowly along the narrow cobble-stoned main street looking for our hotel. “There it is!” I said. “And there’s a spot right in front of it.”
But Mark continued on.
“What are you doing?” Dick demanded.
“There’s some light left. I’d like to scout out a couple of locations for shooting tomorrow.”
Dick sighed. “Don’t you have a shot list? I’m really beginning to wonder just what kind of a project you’ve got going here.”
Mark turned to look at me. “Explain it to him, will you, Pat?”
“Well, you see, Dick, we have a very loose shot list. I mean, we know we want shots in Delphi, of us mountain biking near the ruins. And shots of the ruins, too, of course.”
“But I’m talking about a detailed list of the exact shots you want me to get for you. ‘Cause I’m not shooting everything. That’s just ridiculous.”
Now I sighed. “Dick, the nature of this project is that it’s pretty spontaneous. We’ve never been here before, so we don’t know exactly what to expect. The theme is the adventure of mountain biking in a strange new land.”
Dick shook his head, looking peeved. “Whatever.”
The Temple of Apollo
In the remaining light, we found a ridge above the Temple of Apollo where we would shoot video the following day.
That night after dinner Mark and Dick wanted to go have a couple of beers at the taverna down the block from our hotel. I needed some time to myself, so I told them, “You guys go on without me. I’m just going to relax.”
I lay down on our bed – Mark had pleaded for perhaps the only double bed in the country of Greece! I studied travel books I had purchased at an Athens bookstore about the Grecian sites we planned to visit. What I learned of Delphi was that in ancient times this area had been considered the “navel of the Earth,” the center of civilization, the most magical and mystical site in all of Greece. I could readily sense a pervasive spiritual energy about the place. I needed for that energy to rub off on me, as the Grecian odyssey had so far been emotionally taxing, and my relationship with Mark was under a strain. It seemed as though our tight, confident grasp was slipping.
Breakfast Fun
Next morning, at breakfast, I was glad to see that Mark and Dick were in a good mood after a night at the taverna.
Mark put his hand on my shoulder. “Dick and I came to a conclusion. You’ve got to come up with some kind of a shot sheet each day so we know exactly what we’re going to be shooting that day.”
Dick was nodding. “Yes, this will make me very happy. Maybe we won’t get everything on the shot sheet. But I need some kind of a guide. I don’t want to be your Director of Photography. You guys have to do that.”
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll get a list together for today.”
“Great!” The boys both grinned at me. Perhaps we were on an upswing after all.
Our first location was the place we had discovered last night: the piece of singletrack amidst red poppies and yellow daisies on the ridge overlooking the Sanctuary of Apollo which had once been the spiritual center of the surrounding country for hundreds of miles around.
The morning’s luster coating our triad had melted before the sun was at its mid-morning position. By the way Dick acted while shooting Mark and me as we rode our bikes down the trail his resentment was obvious.
“Now what?” I thought to myself. I had believed he was contented with my newly-minted list. It appeared he was harder to please than I’d thought.
Mark asked Dick, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing man, let’s just get these shots.”
Usually Mark and I traveled as a “dynamic duo,” whose energy brought a bounty of experience and adventure. Dick’s indignation was like a pitcher of ice water that I was afraid would douse out our good luck.
Unfortunately my imperfect riding over a couple of technical spots on the trail forced us to undergo Take two, Take three, Take four. Each additional take had the veins bulging in Dick’s neck as he hoisted his Steadicam gear poised for the next take.
Site of the First Olympics and the Oracle
I hoped Dick would cheer up as the day advanced. Our next location was in the valley at the Sanctuary of Apollo itself. It featured a stadium originally constructed in the 5th Century BC where chariot races and gymnastic competitions had been held. I pictured Charlton Heston feverishly propelling his chariot there, even though he had actually played a Roman.
The site offered a plethora of intriguing sights. In ancient times, people would travel for days to come to this very spot in Delphi, seeking answers to their questions; everything from war and peace, to business and romance. A priestess would sit on a big boulder called the “Rock of Sybil,” providing answers to long lines of people. Even in those days people got a kick out of consulting psychics.
I imagined petitioning Sybil for answers. What would my questions be? “Are we doing the right thing? Where is this ‘World Odyssey’ really leading us? Is my marriage going to be able to survive this project?”
Dick was sweating profusely as he walked his Steadicam around the Temple of Apollo. He seemed so miserable I felt sorry for him. I wished I could help him, but even after I had produced a shot list–the one thing he said would make him happy–he still seemed in pain.
Further south, lay the ruins of a Sanctuary where Athena was worshipped. Despite having already spent hundreds of drachmas to enter the Sanctuary of Apollo, and despite a note from the Greek government stating that we had been sanctioned to produce our video, the guard told us filming there would not be allowed. We decided to sneak into Athena’s Sanctuary by sliding with our bikes and camera equipment down a cliff dotted with pines and brush.
We had just captured a beautiful scene of the day’s dying ember of a sun seen between the columns of Athena’s temple ruins, when the guard chased us out of the park, swearing at us in Greek.
Onward to Mt. Olympos
The shoot was a wrap! At least for Delphi. The three of us celebrated by drinking our favorite beers, Hennekers, under the light of a full moon over Delphi. The more beers we shared, the more optimistic we were that our anxieties had completely disappeared.
But it wasn’t so.
In the morning, we traveled north toward the plains of Central Greece, and the coastline of the Aegean Sea, heading for the home of the gods, Mt. Olympos. In Litohoro, at the eastern base of Mt. Olympos, we found a modest (yet clean) hotel called Mirto.
Mt. Olympos Reveals Itself
On that sunny afternoon, the crags of Mt. Olympos before us, Mark and I rode our bikes on the wildflower-strewn hillside for Dick’s Steadicam.
It seemed incredible to ride upon the same landscape where events of great historical impact occurred. Alexander the Great and his father, King Philip, had once lived here! Wars were waged, blood was shed. Civilization shifted from one stage to the next.
Finally we reached an area called Prionia, which featured crystal-clear waterfalls and pure mountain spring water for drinking.
To the ancient Greeks who had placed their gods on the wild, majestic peaks of Olympos, and to the modern Greeks who still revered the ancient myths, Olympos was more than just the home of the immortals. The mountain symbolized the strengths of the gods to which people might aspire.
We shot some beautiful mountain biking scenes on a bridge over a waterfall, complete with a tender kiss between Mark and me. Yes, of course our marriage was going to survive the stress of travel, sleep deprivation, heavy lifting and multiple takes.
Fierce Black Dog
On a short break, I was walking back from the side of the mountain where I’d been resting, and moved toward a large rock overlooking some waterfalls where Mark and Dick were sitting. A black dog stared at me curiously. So I put my hand out for him to sniff, then headed on. He leaped to bite my hand, then came down with his jaw open, gouging me on the hip with his teeth. That, of course, startled me, so I continued a bit faster toward the safety of the rock.
Mark called out, “Don’t show fear,” so I barked at the dog, and it came flying over, barking and baring its teeth. We intimidated each other, I think, and all I could think when I gained the safety of the rock was that “dog” spelled backward is “god.”
Later, as Mark, Dick and I descended back to town in our sweltering vehicle, bound for a carafe of retsina and a hefty bowl of bean soup, we could feel the eyes of the gods upon us, and we each reveled in being young, resilient, and the first Americans to mountain bike Mt. Olympos, neighborhood of the gods, and of Zeus’s fierce and sharp-toothed guard dog.
Patty Mooney is a VP, Video Producer, Sound Technician, Teleprompter Operator and Video Editor at award-winning San Diego Video Production Company, Crystal Pyramid Productions. For more adventures, enjoy our blog, Diary of a Video Production Crew
