“Akrotiri. Archaeology. Ruins.” The conductor announces. His tone seems to imply, “And you are all nuts to live in the past.” We eagerly scramble off the bus that takes us from Fira on the beautiful Greek island of Santorini to Akrotiri that has become famous for its Bronze Age ruins.
The habitation (whose name is unknown) owes its present name to the fishing village nearby. To me, the mention of Akrotiri always evokes the image of the fisherman — tall, brown, and holding his catch with nonchalant grace.
The painting was found on the wall of a house, while the settlement was being excavated.
When we enter the enclosure, we are amazed: never have we seen such magnificent ruins enclosed within a modern, steel-roofed structure.
An entire city lies below us, as we walk along a specially constructed path. We see tall walls of houses, and of public buildings. This was a city that had strong trade links with Crete just across the Aegean Sea and absorbed many influences of that great Minoan civilisation. It included the making of terracotta painted ware and the art of creating beautiful frescoes on the walls of houses that were often three stories high. The town was buried under volcanic ash, which is why it was well-preserved. But unlike Pompeii, thankfully, human beings and animals were not found here in a petrified state; people evidently were able to escape, leaving only their terracotta ware behind.
It is fascinating to see how the process of excavation was done: down below, enclosed by glass, the tools used and half-excavated portions are seen. The display boards carry little information.
We climb down the steps and wander around the remnants of various dwellings, such as ‘The Houses of the Ladies’, ‘West House’, and others. They were all lavishly adorned with paintings, but none of them can be seen here now.
When we come out of the site, we tell an official there are not enough information boards. “And why are the paintings not displayed here?,” we ask. He takes it very much to heart. “You can’t see everything,” he says, spelling out a supreme truth for all tourists.
Next day at Fira, the capital of Santorini, drinking in the artefacts and the superb frescoes that had been found at Akrotiri, we realise that they need great protection, and that is why they are here.
The objects — enormous urns, jars, dishes and bathtubs — are well-displayed and described. They show how life would have been lived there. The frescoes are spectacular: swallows and dolphins, beautiful women and papyrus flowers, leaping monkeys and demure-looking goats seem as if they were painted yesterday.
But the fisherman is at the National Archaeological Museum at Athens, and I have to be content capturing him on a souvenir later.
The youngest member of our group, who was fully in agreement with the views of the conductor and could not stop muttering about how it is “always old buildings, ruins and the past” with us, and threatened to go away on a holiday of her own, completely changed her tune after seeing the museum.
“Now it all makes sense, it all connects and the complete picture is awesome,” she conceded.
