After my mother died I was suddenly aware that I am the sole custodian of so many memories from my youth. The Greek relatives of my generation were either at least ten years older than me (and so many now dead, like Anna with me above), or were not born for at least six years after me.
With the birth of a great-niece, as I have no children, I decided to put together a book explaining who everyone in my and my brother's part of the family was/is. Since completing that, I have been thinking that I might enjoy putting together a loosely organised collection of my own reminiscences. This goes happily with my desire to explore more of the interests spurred in my young days, but never pursued to any great degree.
One of those interests is in mosaics, especially Byzantine mosaics. This started at the age of four when my great uncle used to take me to his work. He was architect/civil engineer involved in the restoration of the church of St Demetrius in Thessaloniki. He would leave me to amuse myself looking around, and I was particularly taken with the glorious mosaics (I was an exceedingly well behaved child - and besides, everyone knew who I was). Recently I came across the website of Helen Miles, a mosaic artist who was inspired by Byzantine mosaics and has a post on the Rotunda here. Her fascinating blog posts got me fired up with interest again, and so when the other day I was researching books on the subject to get me started, I discovered one on my beloved Rotunda, I had to have it.
Spending three or four months every summer in Thessaloniki through my youth, I was allowed a lot of freedom. I was able from about the age of seven or so to walk through the town on my own, setting off from home as it was then up on the hill next to St Demetrius, down to my aunt's office to collect her at the end of her working day at 1 o'clock. I had ample opportunity to explore so much of such a fascinating place, which in my early years was a beautiful mix of medieval and belle epoque architecture. (So much was ruined with the blocks of flats which went up from the mid 50s, and now I find the place so filled with mediocre buildings that it is difficult to imagine how it once was.)
I loved the many churches, their shapes, their mosaics, their icons, ... but of all the buildings the one which intrigued me the most was St George's, the Rotunda. I was delighted when our home in Thessaloniki moved down to within a couple of minutes' walk to the Rotunda. When I knew the building it was neglected, not used as a church, and only visited by very few folks who deliberately sought it out. In its garden full of weeds, bits of stone ruins, and often junk, I saw my first sarcophagus.
The inside was awe-inspiring, especially when I was alone. It had lived different lives: Roman rotunda first, then a christian church, then a mosque, and then a sort of neglected museum ... until the earthquake of 1978, after which it was swathed in scaffolding, and taken more seriously.
It is scarcely believable now that my father (who took the photograph of us), my cousin Anna, and I at the age of ten were allowed to climb right up and sit on the roof - but the photo clearly shows the minaret and how high we were. The book arrived yesterday, and I am looking forward very much to putting some information with my memories.
