A visit to Olympos isn’t complete without a visit to the eternal flames of Chimera. In less enlightened times they were attributed to the breath of a monster – part lion, part goat, and part dragon (the goat part scares me most) – though even today their cause is reportedly unknown. What is known, from first hand experience, is that its an unforgettable experience visiting them in the quiet of night.
The two hour late-night walk provided my companion Katie and I a welcome distance from the tour groups that visit at less nocturnal times (though we were accompanied by hedgehogs and fireflies) and afforded us some wistful solo time, the lack of other souls composing a soundtrack of beautiful night silence and the dull roar of the Chimera flames.
The flames themselves emanate from any number of clefts in the earths surface, some a fiery yellow one-metre tall, others barely-visible purple flickering in and out of combustion only millimetres in height. They burn clean, supposedly re-ignite when covered, and generate a generous but not over-encroaching warmth allowing you to sit amongst them warmed on all sides, making them better than even the most perfect campfire. They were put to further good use in melting a chocolate bar to coat a banana, and others have used them to make toast or even cook a shish-kebab.
 |
| Katie with Beer, Guardian with Dronealin. Better than Michael Jackson! |
Yusef brought with him a folk instrument of which he attested he was no maestro, but which he claimed in the hands of a professional sounded “better than Michael Jackson”; however in the hands of a highly underskilled though over enthusiastic aficionado was more nightmarish that MJ’s plastic surgery. This three-string instrument was vaguely reminiscent of a violin, though narrower, less shapely, and played held in the lap, and deliberately droned across all strings at once. With the tuning of such instrument not reminiscent of anything heard before in western music, and the squawks of a child’s first violin lesson would be comparatively melodic. We only wished we could accompany this harsh puncture of the nights peace with the beautiful sounds of nails screeching down a blackboard.
Though perhaps encouraged a little by Yusef’s enthusiasm, with inhibitions lowered by a beer on an empty stomach, we responded as best possible to Yusef’s requests for us to sing. My rendition of Australian folk music was a particularly notable, “Tie-Me-Kangaroo-Down Sport” doing Rolf Harris proud, to be sure (mate).
Having once spent all of $100 in a jukebox in an American bar on one particular song (repeat repeat repeat repeat…), Yusef’s affection for REM’s “Losing My Religion” could not be denied and we responded in kind by accompanying him as best possible. Of course, there is a reason this song was accompanied by the instruments of REM’s choosing; the same reasoning has to date prevented its transcription for turkish drone-alin in the hands of a tone-deaf over enthusiastic Muslim. And while it may be said that music may bring you closer in touch with the divine, this sensory onslaught has perhaps encouraged me to, similar to the song’s namesake, question this faith. However, this certainly memorable and overall enjoyable experience will come screaming back to me from this moment forth, whenever I hear a certain REM song.
Check out the author’s personal website at www.warwickblake.netfirms.com.
