Greece,Patmos,37.323485,26.549835,12,H

37.307922,26.544943,Monastery of St. John the Theologian
I went to Patmos (Πάτμος) during the Easter 2000 holiday, and it was one of the great experiences of my life.

We had a week off, and it was my first trip to a Greek island. There is nothing quite like traveling by ferry across the Aegean—the unobstructed sky, the fresh air, the steady churn of the turbines, the sea drifting by. It easily puts one in a meditative mood. As night came on, I slept on deck as the ferry plowed through the wine-dark sea. I woke up early in the morning as we passed several mist-shrouded islands, little worlds all to themselves, soon swallowed up by the distance. I don't recall exactly how long the ferry took; online ferry schedules show about 7.5-9 hours, but I recall it taking longer than that.

In Patmos, I stayed in a villa on the outskirts of the port town of Skala. In the days before the Easter celebrations, I rented a scooter and found an small, isolated beach where I took my first swim in the Mediterranean.

On another day I wandered into an icon studio named Parousia. The owner was fully steeped in the Byzantine icon-making tradition, and offered several finely crafted icons for sale. As I was looking around, he asked me what I thought, and I responded, not meaning anything deprecatory, "They are nice." He immediately retorted, "These are not nice! These are genuine religious artworks! Hours of work and meditation have gone into each one." After an hour or so of looking around, I bought a copy of a 12th century icon of St. John that is housed in the Monastery on the island.

I also climbed the hill behind Skala to visit the Cave of the Apocalypse and the Monastery of St. John the Theologian. In the dark, candlelit Cave you can view the very crevices and niches in the rocks where, it is believed, St. John rested his head and put his hand to pull himself up or steady himself while sitting down.

I walked through the library at the Monastery, where several ancient paintings and documents are displayed, and walking around afterwards ran into the Abbot. For some reason he called me Peter, and asked a few questions about where I was from and what I was doing in Greece.

Easter gets the same emphasis in Greece (and other Orthodox countries) as Christmas does in the West. On Easter Friday I went up again to the Monastery to attend the Service of Lamentation. I don't remember much about this service except that a local befriended me and tried to translate and show me what to do. Afterwards, we walked together among the crowd down the hill, in darkness and silence.

This service has been superseded in my mind by the Easter Resurrection Service the next evening. I got there early to make sure I had a good spot, and stood for a few hours as the monks chanted, sprinkled holy water on everyone, and swung the thurible back and forth. Most people at the service stayed in the church for a while, then went out to the courtyard to rest before going back in, and at one point, the Abbot came up to me and urged me to do the same, whispering into my ear, "Go sit down!" But I stayed through the whole thing, till the moment when the lights were turned off, and after a long silence the priest appeared from behind the icon screen with a large candle and proclaimed, "Χριστός ανέστη", to which everyone responded "Αληθώς ανέστη". Fireworks went off, and the bells started ringing like crazy. Each of us had a beeswax candle, and starting with those nearest the priest, everyone lit up until the whole sanctuary was bathed in candlelight. Then there was a procession down to Skala where everyone feasted and celebrated until the wee hours of the morning.