When I finally look it up I discover Drakospita is the Greek word for Dragon House. I find an old guidebook on the bookshelf in our living room and it says:
"Some of the most interesting sights of Southern Evia are the famous Drakospita, or dragons' houses, peculiar ancient buildings of special architecture, which, according to some, were temples of Hera. Drakospita are houses built by dragons. Because of the material used for their construction, but even more so on account of the amazing way in which they are built, there was but one explanation for our naive ancestors: they must have been erected by supernatural forces. There are many such structures in Southern Evia, which indicate that centuries before our written history began there must have been men who were indeed 'dragons'. 'Dragons', most likely, not on account of their physical strength but because of the force of their minds and their ability to devise edifices, which, even in our age of architectural and technological advancements, still astonish and bewilder. The dragon houses of Southern Evia, some of which are in excellent condition even today, were built by men who lived on the island before the 7th century BC and used them as temples or dwellings."
The island where Gary and I are house-sitting for the next six weeks appears to be the dragon house capital of the world.
Every time we pass the blue metal sign I feel the urge to turn, but we do not, until our younger son, Jason, arrives for a visit. And then early one bright December morning, the three of us go out searching for a house built by dragons.
We almost miss the turnoff, but a sharp right takes us onto a paved road heading uphill. The houses on either side are soon left behind, and the asphalt turns to dirt and gravel. We are heading away from civilization, towards rolling green hills studded with white stones and boulders. There are small structures and enclosures for sheep tucked here and there along the way. Our path is dusty and rocky and potholed, and sometimes we have to slow way down so the car doesn't bottom out, and sometimes someone has to get out and move big rocks out of the way. But it's a pretty nice road. For back country Greece. There are signs and arrows showing us the way, and when we reach the end there's even a parking lot. We get out and see a path with a red arrow painted on a rock. We follow the arrow and find more arrows and dots that lead us through low thorny bushes and under flowering trees. In a few minutes we come to a clearing and see a red bull's eye. Drakospita!
We walk over and under and around prehistoric structures made of gigantic gray slabs of rock. There are arches and small doorways and stone fences. The roofs are partly covered in grass and have big spaces in the middle where something seems to be missing. There are things that look like water basins, and others that could be altars. We ask questions out loud. But everything is unknowable. We hope nothing falls on our heads.
We're glad we've seen a dragon house, but we're not completely filled. There's room for more. So we head back down the road. I remember seeing a small sign with the word castle on it pointing in a different direction.
We find the sign at a fork in the road and go right this time, instead of left.
We have no idea where we're going or what we'll find. When the road runs out, we park. Our car is the only one in sight. Ahead of us is a mountain with what looks like a pile of rocks on top. We all laugh and say it's probably just a natural formation that someone thought looked like a castle. We see a path and decide to follow it.
Rocks are everywhere. It looks like boulders have rolled down from the top of the mountain. All the plants are scrubby and prickly and close to the ground. There are little purple flowers clinging to the rocky soil, and bright orange balls hanging from bushes. The colors are the colors of fall. There are more red painted arrows and dots, some are old and faded, and some look brand new. The path zigzags back and forth, and keeps getting steeper and steeper. We get out of breath. Or at least some of us do.
When we look up, the pile of rocks starts to look different. It starts to look constructed.
We hear bells and see sheep grazing. We reach a rock that has two words written on it. I can't read the first one, but I understand the second one. It feels like the painter is proud of us for making it this far, and is telling us we're almost there.
A few minutes later we are standing on top of the mountain,
face to face with a stonehenge portal to another world.
There is no one here but us. The wind is blowing and the sun is shining. The sky is blue. Puffy white clouds float by. The only sounds are sheep sounds. We step through the doorway.
The grass is short and green and perfectly cropped. All around us white rocks are strewn and stacked, some shaped into natural benches. The views are extraordinary. Never ending. Stretching in all directions.
To the west we can see the ferry leaving Nea Styra, heading across the water towards Agia Marina. A little farther south we see the village of Styra, a place so ancient that Homer wrote in the Iliad that its people took part in the campaign against Troy. We know it as the place to buy cheap wine in plastic bottles, and emergency supplies when the stores in Nea Styra are closed for siesta.
There are no ropes or barriers or informational plaques. No gift shops or ticket booths or guards. No warnings, no restrictions, no rules. Nothing is blocked off, and no one is watching. The red painted arrows have disappeared.
The three of us scatter in different directions.
I notice a baby blue cross painted on the side of a giant rock and head towards it.
I go around the corner and it looks like a dead-end, but I find a way to keep going. There's a ledge, and a drop off, and I feel afraid. I sit down paralyzed, hug the wall, and wait. It looks too scary to keep going, and when I look back it looks too hard to climb back up. I call out, but no one can hear me. In a little while I hear my son calling mom above my head. He doesn't hear me when I answer, so I get brave and crawl back up the way I came.
Gary appears with a story about a cave carved in the side of the mountain, with an altar and a Greek flag inside. And then he disappears again. Jason and I walk past cliffs, and over boulders, and startle a herd of sheep. A black ram seems to be in charge. He eyes us suspiciously, and makes us laugh as he herds his harem quickly away. The animals vanish over the hill, leaving the echo of their bells. We see Gary a long way off waving and yelling to us. He has seen the roof of a church.
We navigate through piles of sheep poop and make our way over to him. Someone has built a church here on the top of this mountain. It is small and whitewashed and gleaming in the sun.
The door is unlocked, so we go inside. Plaster is falling off the walls. Everything is faded and flyspecked. There are candles and crosses, and incense burners on the walls. There's a stack of plastic stools in the corner, and a large gilded frame on a stand with a date on the bottom that says 2015. Jason has disappeared.
When we come out of the church we hear Jason calling, you have to come up here, it really is a castle. And then we finally see it. We find impossible arches and walls of stacked stones. We see what might have been a well, and enclosures for animals, and steps leading down into unknown places.
When I look out and see the ferry leaving Nea Styra for a second time, I realize we have been here, at what we later learn is the Acropolis of Styra, for hours.
I see Jason far away, standing on enormous blocks of stone. I am thinking about sacrifices and gods and blood and superstition. About history and castles and the age of the world. About this deserted place so filled with the presence of humans.
Once upon a time we went looking for a dragon house, and accidentally found the Acropolis of Styra. We climbed to the top of an ancient mountain and looked out at Homer's world. The sky was blue, the sun was shining, and we could see forever. My husband was walking on one side of me, and my son was walking on the other, and all of us were laughing.
