I had the privilege of traveling to Kea (Τζια) this weekend, a relatively small Aegean island in the Cycladic archipelago over the long weekend. The island itself is paradisal, with a picturesque little harbor, and beautiful terraced fields of emerald green, which are stitched with formation walls from antiquity. The archaeological gem of the island is the Lion of Kea, which was carved out of a natural stone slab and appears to be wearing a faint, wise smile.
With the help of my gracious hosts (some good friends of my father), who allowed me to stay in their quaint, lovely little island home, I was able to visit the famed lion, a small but very well-curated archaeological museum (with very good didactics!), and Χωρα, the main village on the island, where we shopped around and ate the most delicious goat with lemon sauce (a Kea specialty), eggplant imam fit for royalty, and just about the best χορτα (seasonal greens) I’ve had since coming to Greece. It was an idyllic weekend, and just what I needed before the hullabaloo of our imminent finals period.
What stuck out to me most, though—even among all of these glorious little experiences—was a conversation I had with one of my hosts, where he introduced me to the poetry of C.P. Cavafy. Since this conversation struck me so, I thought I would utilize this blog post to learn a bit more about the life and work of this man, since my father had recommended him to me some time ago.
Konstantinos Petrou Kavafis (Cavafy) (1863–1933) was a Greek poet, philosopher, and civil servant from Alexandria (at the time, Ottoman Egypt). Perhaps the most acclaimed Greek poet of the twentieth century, Cavafy’s poems are often categorized into three areas: historical (where he drew upon his extensive study of the Hellenistic period), philosophical, and sensual. The corpus of his work is comprised of 154 poems, which center around themes of an existential nostalgia, uncertainty about the future, the psychology of individuals, and the sensual pleasures of life.
Cavafy’s most famous poems are undoubtedly Waiting for the Barbarians and Ithaka, and I must admit that as a lover of Homer and a Classics-adjacent major, I was a bit surprised that I had little recollection of hearing about these poems. The latter, as one might guess, is based on the Odyssey, one of the oldest and most poignant depictions of homecoming. Ithaka is a reinterpretation of Odysseus’ desperate search for his homeland after the end of the Trojan War. In the various troubles that Odysseus encounters, he cultivates for himself exile landscapes of nostalgia and hope during his journey. After reading a bit about Cavafy’s biography, I could not help but see parallels between his story and that of the rugged Homeric hero. George Seferis links Ithaka with Alexandria, Egypt, the birthplace of Cavafy. A Greek living abroad, he understood himself to be an exile.
Odysseus is often heralded as the epitome of fearlessness, cunning, and perseverance; he is oft remembered as a hero. For me, though, he was always a flawed, and altogether unlikable character—that is, until the very end of the epic. When Odysseus finally makes it back to Ithaka, he defends his wife and home by winning a contest, killing the suitors, and claiming the throne (Odyssey books 21 and 22). When I read the Odyssey for the first time in high school, I did not view Odysseus as a hero. And as a sophomore in college, I must say that I still do not (although I have not read it in two years). However, one does not have to be a “hero” to have remarkable or admirable qualities. I see Odysseus as a very human, almost ‘everyday’ man, and many of his qualities to me—dishonesty, carelessness, overly-pridefulness, male manipulator—are repulsive. What has always intrigued and charmed me about him, though, was his crippling nostalgia: his desire to return to the land, wife, and home that had once nourished him so fulfillingly. After reading about Cavafy’s life, then, it became apparent to me that feeling at home as a Greek in Ottoman Egypt was his personal odyssey. Ithaka, at first glance, seems to be an impersonal story of a bygone life. However, when one reads the poem with Cavafy’s life in mind, aspects of his personal journey reveal themselves in the lines:
“But don’t hurry the journey at all. Better if it lasts for years, so you’re old by the time you reach the island, wealthy with all you’ve gained on the way, not expecting Ithaka to make you rich.”
Ithaka, Cavafy
For me, this reflects just how long it took for Cavafy to see Alexandria as a home. Greece, which gained independence from the Ottoman Empire in 1830, sees itself as a pure nation-state, with a common religion (Greek Orthodoxy, which 90% of Greeks identify as), language, and the claim to roots reaching back 3,000 years. A sense of ‘Greekness,’ I can only assume, pervaded Greek communities—both diasporic and endemic—and this persists today. Thus, one might infer that Cavafy felt estranged from the Greek aspect of his identity while living in Egypt, so it makes sense that it took him so long to identify with his birthplace.
“And if you find her poor, Ithaka won’t have fooled you.
Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,
you’ll have understood by then what these Ithakas mean.”
Ithaka, Cavafy
But Cavafy’s literal journey (in the form of accepting Alexandria, Egypt as his home) was not the only form of ‘homecoming’ that is reflected in the poem. As a poet of the Greek diaspora, finding his poetic voice and artistic identity in and of themselves are ‘homecomings’ reflected in the poem. Reading Ithaka prompted me toward others of Cavafy’s poems. Through the works that I have read, I note that the surprising aspect of this Greek poet is that he was able to create the uniqueness and ingenuity of his art not only with his poetic and artistic gifts, but also with his weaknesses. Many of his poems seem to be a continuous surmounting of his own obstacles: once he arrives to Ithaka in the eponymous poem, he seems to do away with the labor and burden of his own feelings of displacement.
Little did I know that my trip to Kea would introduce me to the poet I have been most immediately interested in (and I say this as someone who has an innate resistance to the literary form). Although this is a Classics/Archaeology Off-Campus Studies Program, I find it saddening that so little of my time has been spent learning about modern Greek poets, filmmakers (I was also introduced to the genius of Angelopolous this weekend), and artists: the only class that has come close to this is my SOAN course on the culture of modern Greece, but even that has not focused at all on specific modern Greek artists. An expectation that I unknowingly had for my study abroad experience in Greece was that I would learn just as much about modern Greece and its people as I would about the ancients, but that has been far from the case. Nonetheless, I am glad to have been introduced to Cavafy this weekend, and am eager to return to his poetry—and the works of other Greek authors—when classes get out for the summer—and beyond!
