Ancient Beauty

I have long wished to visit Greece.  It’s one of the few countries in Europe I’ve never visited, and I’ve heard numerous stories of how it caters to tourists, the weather, the islands, and how it’s a trip one can never forget.

Among the islands is Santorini, which has a special significance to me that I can’t divulge.  Sure, I’m a fan of ancient history, too, and Santorini is actually a small circular group of islands that are the current remains of a volcanic eruption that collapsed the cone and left the current arrangement.  Every Christmas, there’s usually a calendar for sale in the shopping mall with views of Santorini, and the pictures are almost always white and blue.  Whether it’s because those are the Greek national colors or because it makes for good contrast, couldn’t tell you – but it adds to the mystique and the must-see attitude I have toward the country.

Several years ago, I became a fan of another blogging site (which I have since lost the address to) that profiled Greek men, usually in swimsuits or come-hither poses.  I wish I could find it again, because I’m sure that in the passing months, bunches of images have been posted which I could appreciate.

What is it about Greek men?  (I know I pontificate regularly on the advantages of being foreign in the United States, but bear with me.)  I don’t think I’ve ever seen a picture of an unattractive, stereotypical Greek man: olive skin, white teeth, dark curly hair, muscular build with an appreciation for athletics (and there are plenty of Greek models and athletes – Dimitris Alexandrou, Konstantinos Boutros, Iakovakis Periklis, and Christos Fiotakos – to name a few, and do I really need to go into the fascination with John Stamos?) and wine.  Here in Detroit, we have a fairly large Greek and Albanian community, and I am rarely at a loss when it comes for fantasizing in that regard.  Lots of underwear fantasies rattle through my brain whenever I see them in groups with their friends, and there’s little my imagination doesn’t think of.

In complement to my Greek fascination, I like mythology and Greek food.  Come to think of it, there’s a restaurant in Detroit’s Greektown (it’s not just a casino) called “Santorini” that has the best saganaki and souvlaki you’ll ever taste.  And I’ve never been able to finish a complete piece of baklava by myself.

So, yeah … what is it about Greek men?  The classical warrior pose?  The dark, brooding eyes?  The Greeks of antiquity who could throw a javelin and fight with a sword?  Their ability to wear a dress and still look good?  (A folk costume is what I’m talking about.)  I don’t know.  All I know is this – if I ever have the chance to get my hooks into a straight-off-the-boat Greek stud (like my former neighbor, Lorenzo, who I described in another post), Tom and I might find ourselves in a remake of a classical Greek tragedy.