The
road from Nafplion to Epidaurus (Epidavros) passes through vineyards
and age-old olive groves with the mountains looming hazily in
the distance, but for Mt. Arahneo, which rises directly above
Epldaurus.
 On
a hillside, within the sanctuary, lies the theater of Epidaurus
(3rd c. BC), the most famous and best preserved of all the ancient
theatres in Greece. Built of limestone, it can seat 12,000 spectators.
Every
summer it comes alive. Attending a performance of ancient drama
in this theater is almost a mystical experience. Never to be forgotten.
A catharsis of the soul.
At
Epidaurus the actors don’t need to shout or speak loudly.
The acoustics are so perfect that the merest whisper can be heard
in the last row.
The
entrance to the sanctuary lies to the north of the theater. Asklepios
was worshipped here. Though he was a god, Zeus struck him down
with his thunderbolt because he wanted to destroy death.
Among
the ruins, one can see the foundations of the temple of Asklepios
(Doric, 4th c. BC), the guest house, the tholos, the Abaton or
sleeping porch, the temples of Artemis and Themis, the gymnasion,
etc.
The
museum is near the entrance to the site and contains various artifacts
plus a helpful model of what the sanctuary must have looked like.
The
town of ancient Epidaurus occupied the same location as the present
village of Palia Epidavros (Old Epidaurus), a seaside settlement
wit a small harbor, nestled in a plain thick with olive and orange
trees, rimmed with scenic beaches and several tavernas. Seven
kilometers further north, at the foot of Mt. Akros, the road arrives
at Nea Epidavros (New Epidaurus), an inland village and then proceeds
several kilometers on “to the lonely monastery of Agnounda
with its Byzantine frescoes.
West
of Nea Epidavros, you come to Ligourio, a modern market town much
frequented by tourists.
There
are tavern as everywhere you look, and coaches, cars and motorbikes.
Over
the wind waft tempting smells of roasting Iamb and kokoretsi.
Theater
buffs and lovers of archaeology from all corners of the globe
gather here to eat and chat under a starry sky.
Carefree
crickets are trilling in the trees.
|
