Like the archaeological site at Cape Kolonna, the Sanctuary of Aphaea was almost deserted yesterday. I was on the 10.15 bus from Aigina Town; almost everyone else on board either got off at the church of Agios Nektarios, or stayed on till the final stop at Agia Marina. I was the only person who got off at Aphaea's temple.
It's a beautiful spot, high up on a pine-forested hill above the north-east coast of the island, with tremendous views all round, inland and out to sea.
There's a constant fresh breeze, the air smells of pine resin and there are cicadas singing constantly in the trees. Small birds fly by twittering, grasshoppers spring away from your feet as you walk up through the site, big swallowtail butterflies loop by and giant ants saunter along on the path with their back ends in the air. One is right in the countryside here, high above the normal daily world.
Where arriving at the Acropolis in Athens in a crowd of other tourists felt like being part of a great festival procession, this feels like a private pilgrimage. The situation, so high and remote, and the absence of other visitors most of the time, the constant insect buzz in the sweet-scented air, all combine to make it a deeply resonant, magical spot. The temple is golden against a clear blue sky and the stones seem almost to vibrate with heat.
Aphaea is a local goddess, only worshipped here. Pausanias identifies her with the Cretan goddess Dictynna, who hurled herself into the Aegean to escape from King Minos when he assaulted her. The name Aphaea means something like the "not-shown one" or the "not-bright one" and apparently the local legend is that Dictynna was rescued from the sea and brought here to Aigina by a fisherman; on this hilltop she made herself "not-shown", i.e. became invisible, commanding that her presence be remembered here henceforth.
Once again, the excellent clear interpretation signs helped me to work out exactly what I was seeing and to identify all the phases of the building. According to this, there seems to have been a shrine of some sort right back in the Bronze Age, eventually replaced by a succession of temples from the 7th century BC, culminating in the beautiful 5th century one we see today.
The structure is in a very fine state of preservation. Most of the eastern end is intact and quite a lot of the cella with its walls and double arcading. One can even see traces of the original stucco decoration on the pillars. I sat under a tree in the shade and drew the eastern end; it took about an hour and a half! My perpective is rusty to say the least, but it was a wonderful challenge.
Around the temple itself are altars and statue bases, the remains of a monumental entry way, and a group of structures that were probably priests' houses. Then the pine woods, with a thick carpet of fallen needles and pink-and white autumn-flowering cyclamen.
A small site museum displays finds from the sanctuary, mostly small fragments from the earlier temples. There are also a couple of reconstructions of partial pediments, from the current temple and its predecessor, giving a marvellous idea of the scale and colour of the original buildings. The majority of the pedimental sculptures are in the Munich Glyptothek, who have supplied casts of a couple to enhance the displays here.
This is the figure of Herakles, shown as an archer shooting the Trojan king Laomedon (father of king Priam).
The rest of yesterday was spent being lazy; leisurely (and very late) lunch, nap, swim, sunbathe, write postcards, supper, sunset, early night. Today is probably also going to be a lazy day. Tomorrow I am off on the ferry to my third base, the island of Poros, hopefully for the chance to visit Troezen, the birthplace of Theseus. The weather forecast is currently showing rain and possible thunderstorms around the autumn equinox (which unhelpfully will coincide with the election) but I do have proper shoes and socks, and a mac. It's seemed ridiculous up till now to have been carrying them; but in fact it looks as though I could be very grateful.
For now, more swimming and more sunshine, I think.
It's a beautiful spot, high up on a pine-forested hill above the north-east coast of the island, with tremendous views all round, inland and out to sea.
There's a constant fresh breeze, the air smells of pine resin and there are cicadas singing constantly in the trees. Small birds fly by twittering, grasshoppers spring away from your feet as you walk up through the site, big swallowtail butterflies loop by and giant ants saunter along on the path with their back ends in the air. One is right in the countryside here, high above the normal daily world.
Where arriving at the Acropolis in Athens in a crowd of other tourists felt like being part of a great festival procession, this feels like a private pilgrimage. The situation, so high and remote, and the absence of other visitors most of the time, the constant insect buzz in the sweet-scented air, all combine to make it a deeply resonant, magical spot. The temple is golden against a clear blue sky and the stones seem almost to vibrate with heat.
Aphaea is a local goddess, only worshipped here. Pausanias identifies her with the Cretan goddess Dictynna, who hurled herself into the Aegean to escape from King Minos when he assaulted her. The name Aphaea means something like the "not-shown one" or the "not-bright one" and apparently the local legend is that Dictynna was rescued from the sea and brought here to Aigina by a fisherman; on this hilltop she made herself "not-shown", i.e. became invisible, commanding that her presence be remembered here henceforth.
Once again, the excellent clear interpretation signs helped me to work out exactly what I was seeing and to identify all the phases of the building. According to this, there seems to have been a shrine of some sort right back in the Bronze Age, eventually replaced by a succession of temples from the 7th century BC, culminating in the beautiful 5th century one we see today.
The structure is in a very fine state of preservation. Most of the eastern end is intact and quite a lot of the cella with its walls and double arcading. One can even see traces of the original stucco decoration on the pillars. I sat under a tree in the shade and drew the eastern end; it took about an hour and a half! My perpective is rusty to say the least, but it was a wonderful challenge.
Around the temple itself are altars and statue bases, the remains of a monumental entry way, and a group of structures that were probably priests' houses. Then the pine woods, with a thick carpet of fallen needles and pink-and white autumn-flowering cyclamen.
A small site museum displays finds from the sanctuary, mostly small fragments from the earlier temples. There are also a couple of reconstructions of partial pediments, from the current temple and its predecessor, giving a marvellous idea of the scale and colour of the original buildings. The majority of the pedimental sculptures are in the Munich Glyptothek, who have supplied casts of a couple to enhance the displays here.
This is the figure of Herakles, shown as an archer shooting the Trojan king Laomedon (father of king Priam).
The rest of yesterday was spent being lazy; leisurely (and very late) lunch, nap, swim, sunbathe, write postcards, supper, sunset, early night. Today is probably also going to be a lazy day. Tomorrow I am off on the ferry to my third base, the island of Poros, hopefully for the chance to visit Troezen, the birthplace of Theseus. The weather forecast is currently showing rain and possible thunderstorms around the autumn equinox (which unhelpfully will coincide with the election) but I do have proper shoes and socks, and a mac. It's seemed ridiculous up till now to have been carrying them; but in fact it looks as though I could be very grateful.
For now, more swimming and more sunshine, I think.
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