It's not like it's Plato's Olive Tree!

View from the dining room

There is this olive tree on my property that I've been threatening to cut down.

It stands right outside my dining room picture window.  I've said repeatedly to whomever would listen that it obstructs my view of the mountain and the yard that my boys will eventually play.  The only person on my side is Theo Yianni.

Τραβήξτε το από τις ρίζες του με το τρακτέρ που έχετε εδώ τώρα, έτσι ώστε δεν θα φυτρώσει ξανά. "Remove it by its roots," exclaims Theo Yianni,  "with the tractor that you have here now so that it won't shoot up again".  At first Peter Boufeas was horrified at the idea of cutting it down and shocked that I would even suggest it.  But now he just rolls his eyes and smiles every time I suggest such a thing.  Olive trees are like that.  They can get injured and look like they are near death, yet miraculously sprout new shoots and will even bear an olive or two in a short time.  They are like the mythical phoenix, they rise from the ashes. (yes, its very dramatic, lol)

Even with Boufeas' indignation, I found the opportunity recently to express my concern about the olive tree and its unfortunate spot on the property, with the foreman, Dimitri. 

He is a slender man, middle aged, with a bushy moustache and a solemn look.  Seems to me that he hadn't smiled in a while and who can blame him considering the current economic crisis he finds himself and his country in.  And it was yet another rainy, moody day on the mountain when Boufeas first introduced me to the foreman Dimitri, which didn't do much for anyone's disposition. 

Coffered ceiling sample

I began to ask him about the very decadent lux coffered ceiling that I'm considering having installed and of which he himself had done the sample.  His answers were short, to the point and unemotional.  Hmm.  I told him that I liked his mill work and that indeed it will add fine architectural details to the interior.  He nodded, thoughtfully.  Hmm.  I moved to the dining room picture window  and commented on how foreboding the mountain looked today, especially knowing that it was once an active volcano.  The foreman Dimirti, spins on his heel and looks at me with a raised eyebrow. 

He seemed pleasantly surprised with my knowledge of his town, little does he know that I excel at Trivial Pursuit, lol.  Quite satisfied with my ability to finally break the ice with the foreman, we actually chatted about the dormant volcano and our mutual affection for the Taygetos Mountain.  But it wasn't until I turned once again to the window and proclaimed, half jokingly, that I will indeed cut down this dreadful olive tree, that I got the most visceral of reactions!  

All I hear are gasps from the men that have accompanied me.  George Giannopoulos, mutters, "Apokliete", (No Way),  the Architect Dimitri, turns to Boufeas and quizzes with disgust, "what is she going to cut down?" Boufeas just breathes out and says, "here she goes again" and runs a hand across his forehead in exasperation.  A look of horror washes over the face of  the foreman Dimitri and challenges me rather aggressively, "You will do no such thing!" 

Plato's Olive Tree now lives in Verga, Kalamata

I proceed to tell the foreman the reasons for my disdain for this particular tree, but he begins to offer alternatives like, pruning it to make it less imposing.  Perhaps we can build a small rock wall around it as to encourage people to sit underneath it for shade, was another.  I could not be swayed.  I drove the point further by suggesting, with a chuckle,  that I will need firewood for my three fireplaces and this tree would be a good place to start.

"Look", the foreman pressed, "its one of the oldest trees you have on the property and it has the most olives on it too!  What does that say to you?  Doesn't that mean anything to you?  To cut an olive tree down is blasphemy."

Blasphemy.  How do you respond to a person who has just described the cutting of an olive tree as blasphemy?  I take a moment.  It's quiet as I contemplate the future of the tree and turn to the foreman and say with a great big smile, "Fcku, it's not like it's Plato's Olive Tree!"  Γαμώτο, δεν είναι ελιά του Πλάτωνα!

Hearty laughter echoed through my cavernous house.  The foreman Dimitri especially impressed and amused by my reference, responds with great joviality, "You never know, it could be!  It very well could be, Tzaki!"

Actually, no it really could not.  I've actually seen Plato's Olive Tree and it's not in Verga.  And the craziest part about me making that comment was that two months later, on Thursday January 17, 2013, the real Plato's Olive Tree was cut down...for firewood!  And part of me went with it.  Have you ever been on a pilgrimage? I have.

I was 14 years old when I caught partway through, an obscure BBC documentary with a very passionate white haired bearded man, talking about an unlikely landmark in the middle of a busy thoroughfare.  As he was dodging traffic, with horns blaring, he managed to cross the road and convey that he indeed is standing next to, wait for it....Plato's Olive Tree.  "Behold", he said, with a twinkle in his eye.

I was memorised.  What is this?  Where is he?  "I'm going", I said to myself and nothing was going to stop me.

I was 15 years old when I stood in the presence of this unremarkable and rather ordinary olive tree. What made it interesting to look at though wasn't just that it was thought to be more than 3,000 years old,  but that it had been nurtured back to life after being hit by a bus in 1976.  Which almost happened to me trying to find it!  At the time, its gnarled trunk had split into four pieces. From what I understand, the largest of these was taken to the Agricultural University of Athens, where it has been on display ever since.

Legend has it that the tree was part of the alleys that surrounded Plato’s Academy, and it was among the twelve olive trees that marked the twelve gated entries to the property. This part of Athens was later, and still is, named ‘Eleonas’ (olive grove) because of those ancient olive trees.  The Iera Odos (Sacred Way) lies on the ancient route between Athens and the town of Elefsina (Eleusis). The remains of Plato’s Academy lie near the tree, giving the area the name Akadimia Platonos.

Where the original Plato's Olive Tree once stood

And now nothing remains there, except for a big hole.  Local media reported that it was very likely uprooted and stolen to serve as firewood.  Hmm.  Fuel costs have sky rocketed and due to austerity measures the majority refuse to pay the increase and have resorted to heating their home with a wood-burning fireplace or stove.  It was calculated that the stolen part of the tree weighed more than 1,000 pounds, nevertheless it was removed without anyone taking notice.  Imagine that.

And it truly boggles my mind that Greeks would do such a thing, especially considering how revered and sacred the average, non-school of Athens, olive trees actually are to the majority of Greeks...and I do mean majority, not just my small cross section of natives!

I cried when I read the news report that the olive tree under which Plato is believed to have taught his students 2,400 years ago, is now gone.  And I bet I know someone else who cried too.  It is blasphemy, Dimitri the foreman was right. 

How can I ever even consider harming my "Plato's" olive tree?  That's its rightful name now.  I won't ever cut my olive tree down now, I could never ever! Αποκλειεται! Apokliete! 

My Olive Grove, all trees intact and lovingly maintained!

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