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logo

  • HOME
  • ABOUT
  • THE FAMILY ALBUM
  • ONCE UPON A TIME IN ROMANIA
    • ▸Bucharest, 1989: The days of Revolution
    • ▸I’ve also lived under communism
    • ▸Portraits of transition
    • ▸”Cabernet cu pepsi”
    • ▸Romania, 1990: Beyond the headlines
    • ▸“Mineriada” – My story
    • ▸Memorial of pain
  • WORK IN PROGRESS
    • ▸Barbershop
    • ▸Melancholic Identities
    • ▸Faces
    • ▸Fragmentary world
    • ▸Two
    • ▸Buddhist monks
    • ▸About windows and walls
    • ▸Mediterraneo
  • STORIES
    • ▸Alone, together
    • ▸Life and death in Varanasi
    • ▸Trans-Siberian – An experience of becoming
    • ▸Boxing in Havana
    • ▸Moving out of Escobar shadow
    • ▸One night at Htee Thein monastery
    • ▸Easter in Sicily – I misteri
    • ▸Easter in Sicily – La pasquetta
    • ▸Stalin’s Museum in Gori
    • ▸Havana: Between magic and decay
    • ▸Muay Thai for a day
    • ▸Cuban billboards
    • ▸Seeking a geisha
    • ▸Belfast’s murals: Behind and beyond
    • ▸Riding the Yangon’s ring train
    • ▸Bazar-Barakholka-Vernisazh
    • ▸An unexpected trip to Dhobi Ghat
    • ▸A different way to look at death
    • ▸Cannes under siege
    • ▸Inside the Guru’s kitchen
    • ▸Tibetan refugees
    • ▸The Golden Triangle: A Mecca of tribal diversity
    • ▸Bullfighting: Barbaric or art ?
    • ▸Crafts and traditions in Morroco
    • ▸Glastonbury with God
  • TRAVEL
    • Cuba
      • ▸The show must go on (part 1)
      • ▸The show must go on (part 2)
      • ▸The show must go on (part 3)
      • ▸The show must go on (part 4)
    • France
      • ▸Paris
      • ▸Paris. Again
    • Greece
      • ▸Mount Athos
      • ▸Postcards from Santorini
      • ▸Athens
      • ▸Mykonos – The picture-perfect Island
    • Germany
      • ▸Berlin
    • Vietnam
      • ▸Four days in Hanoi
      • ▸Cruising through the misty Halong Bay
    • India
      • ▸Portraits of Kashmir
      • ▸Rishikesh – Spiritual marketplace
      • ▸Life on the Sidewalk
    • Ireland
      • ▸The capital of pubs
      • ▸Ireland in ten days
    • Israel
      • ▸Israel in black & white
    • Colombia
      • ▸Colombia
      • ▸Paisas, coffee and much more
      • ▸Streets of Bogota – From Dystopia to Hope
      • ▸Life along the magical Magdalena River
      • ▸A non-touristy guide to Cartagena’s Caribbean paradise
    • Myanmar
      • ▸Min-ga-la-ba Myanmar
      • ▸Up and down on the hills of Shan State
    • Japan
      • ▸Tokyo
      • ▸Springtime in Kyoto
    • Portugal
      • ▸Life at the edge of Europe
    • Russian Federation
      • ▸The unexpected Moscow
      • ▸White Nights in St. Petersburg
    • Italy
      • ▸Rome
      • ▸Random Sicily
      • ▸Vedi Napoli e poi mori
      • ▸Venice
      • ▸Vanishing Venice
    • Morocco
      • ▸Sunset, camel rides and tea in Erg Chebi
      • ▸Medinas: Morocco’s hidden cities
      • ▸Morocco outskirts
      • ▸Djemaa El Fna encounters
      • ▸Surf and hippies
      • ▸The road of the One thousand kasbahs
      • ▸Amazigh – Berber – Free men
    • Georgia
      • ▸Postcards from Georgia
      • ▸The Many Faces of Tbilisi
    • Nepal
      • ▸Kathmandu Valley
    • Romania
      • ▸Romania to go
      • ▸Maramures
      • ▸Tara Motilor
    • Jordan
      • ▸Bedouin Trails
    • Turkey
      • ▸From Turkey with love
      • ▸Ballooning Cappadocia
      • ▸Where East meets West
      • ▸Street life, Istanbul-style
    • Mexico
      • ▸Finding Mexico City
    • Malaysia
      • ▸Transit KL
    • UK
      • ▸London
      • ▸Grab your kilt and bring your pipes
    • Sweden
      • ▸Stockholm
    • Spain
      • ▸Off-season Andalusia
    • Thailand
      • ▸Bangkok, year 2555
      • ▸Life in Pai
      • ▸Thailand
    • Laos
      • ▸Luang Prabang – The City of ultimate Zen
    • Poland
      • ▸Why I love Poland
    • Estonia, Latvia & Lithuania
      • ▸Neighbors, but not relatives
      • ▸Patarei – A little slice of Hell
    • Findland
      • ▸A sunny day in Helsinki
    • Denmark
      • ▸Copenhagen
  • SINGLES
  • CONTACT
  • MY BOOKS
  • MY VIDEOS
  • Terms and Conditions
  • Cookie Policy (EU)
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Mount Athos

 

The “Holy Mountain” of Athos in northeastern Greece is the spiritual center of the Eastern Orthodox Church. For the past thousand years, a community of Eastern Orthodox monks has dwelled here, in search of a closer connection with God. The monks strive to live simple lives as they defend of intruding modernity. They wear black as a symbol of their death to the outside world.

For almost as long as there have been monks here, women have been barred – considered a distraction and undue competition for the Virgin Mary, the patron saint. The ban extends even to female animals – with the single exception of cats which even the most determined defenders of the faith have learned to leave alone.

There are few paved roads, just a handful of trucks and buses, and no electricity pylons or telegraph poles. Beaches that any travel brochure would praise of, have not been corrupted by beach bars or sunbathers. There are no hotels, no television and no swimming.

Everybody, whether orthodox or not, must obtain a special permit to enter the Athos peninsula. Permits are issued daily for 10 non-orthodox visitors and 100 orthodox visitors. They are valid for only a four-day visit and for specific dates.

Staying at a monastery is not an easy escape from the secular world. The monks follow the Julian calendar, which is a fortnight behind the rest of the world. Each morning I was woken at 3 a.m. to join the monks for Morning Prayer. Only much later the breakfast is served: cheese, bread, olives, beans and even a glass of wine, but not before a monk reads from scripture and delivers a short homily.

The outside world creeps ever closer. The difficult access and the high monasteries walls once built against pirates seemed to keep them back in time, but now the modern world began to penetrate on cell phone signals and internet connections. Yet the brotherhood proceeds as it always has: turned ever inward and glorying in the unseen.

 

 

 

 

 

Mount Athos

 

The “Holy Mountain” of Athos in northeastern Greece is the spiritual center of the Eastern Orthodox Church. For the past thousand years, a community of Eastern Orthodox monks has dwelled here, in search of a closer connection with God. The monks strive to live simple lives as they defend of intruding modernity. They wear black as a symbol of their death to the outside world.

For almost as long as there have been monks here, women have been barred – considered a distraction and undue competition for the Virgin Mary, the patron saint. The ban extends even to female animals – with the single exception of cats which even the most determined defenders of the faith have learned to leave alone.

There are few paved roads, just a handful of trucks and buses, and no electricity pylons or telegraph poles. Beaches that any travel brochure would praise of, have not been corrupted by beach bars or sunbathers. There are no hotels, no television and no swimming.

Everybody, whether orthodox or not, must obtain a special permit to enter the Athos peninsula. Permits are issued daily for 10 non-orthodox visitors and 100 orthodox visitors. They are valid for only a four-day visit and for specific dates.

Staying at a monastery is not an easy escape from the secular world. The monks follow the Julian calendar, which is a fortnight behind the rest of the world. Each morning I was woken at 3 a.m. to join the monks for Morning Prayer. Only much later the breakfast is served: cheese, bread, olives, beans and even a glass of wine, but not before a monk reads from scripture and delivers a short homily.

The outside world creeps ever closer. The difficult access and the high monasteries walls once built against pirates seemed to keep them back in time, but now the modern world began to penetrate on cell phone signals and internet connections. Yet the brotherhood proceeds as it always has: turned ever inward and glorying in the unseen.

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