One of the most beautiful medieval cities in Greece is Monemvasia (the name derives from the words mone and emvassia meaning single entrance). Monemvasia is built on a rock 200m high, 1500m long and 600m wide. Its entrance is a bridge connecting the rock to the mainland. The town was constructed this way to avoid enemy attacks. Founded by the Lakedemons in the 6th century AD, Monemvasia was an important town, part of the Byzantine Empire. The town’s geographically strategic position made it an ideal base for military operations. Later it passed under Venetian (1463-1540 and 1690-1715) and Ottoman occupation (1540-1690 and 1715-1821). In 1821, the fortress was the first to be liberated during the Greek War of Independence.
There
are many things to admire in Monemvasia. The architecture of the
houses is a mix of local, Venetian and Ottoman style. Today most of
the old mansions have been converted into
guesthouses and boutique hotels. The
visitor may explore the Upper Town that accommodated the first
residents, the byzantine churches and the Muslim Shrine (now housing
the Archaeological Collection of the city). Don’t forget to taste
the culinary delights and of course the
famous “Monemvasian Wine’’ (or “Malvasia’’ for the west).
You can wander around the narrow, cobbled streets and appreciate the
amazing view from different spots.
Monemvasia
is the birthplace of the great poet Yannis Ritsos (1909-1990). He was
born in 1909 and he left a wide range of
poems, plays, etc. Ritsos' poetry ranges from the overtly political to the personal, and it often utilizes characters from ancient Greek mythology. Tractors
(1934), Epitaphios (1936), Earini Symphonia
(1938) and Moonlight Sonata (1956) are among his popular works.
Monemvasia was constant in his mind as in his work.
"Monovasia"
Rock.
Nothing else. The wild fig tree and the ironstone.
An armed sea. No room at all for genuflection. Outside the Elkomenos Church gate a crimson in the black. The old women with their cauldrons bleaching the longest woven cloth in history suspend on rings from the forty-four Byzantine arcades. The sun a merciless friend with his lance on the walls opposite and death disinherited within this vast illumination where the dead interrupt their sleep now and then with cannon fire and rusty lampposts, going up and down on step after step carved in the rock. They strike their tinder boxes against the edge of their palms until the sparks fly. I – he said – will climb higher, above the soft continuation, stepping on the dome of the large submarine church with its lit candelabra. I with the blue bone, the red wing and the pure white teeth.
An armed sea. No room at all for genuflection. Outside the Elkomenos Church gate a crimson in the black. The old women with their cauldrons bleaching the longest woven cloth in history suspend on rings from the forty-four Byzantine arcades. The sun a merciless friend with his lance on the walls opposite and death disinherited within this vast illumination where the dead interrupt their sleep now and then with cannon fire and rusty lampposts, going up and down on step after step carved in the rock. They strike their tinder boxes against the edge of their palms until the sparks fly. I – he said – will climb higher, above the soft continuation, stepping on the dome of the large submarine church with its lit candelabra. I with the blue bone, the red wing and the pure white teeth.
