from the end of the pier, we simultaneously stopped and gazed
at the fa��ade, incomparable to any in New York.
Part fortress, part residence, Eastern and European, irregular,
shabby and stately, Xenophontos is mysterious and inviting.
It was in the aggregate a most compelling structure without a
modern aspect to the fa��ade. Silently we navigated the circuitous entrance passage, eventually making our way to a tenthcentury stair hall that would inspire a Zeffirelli stage set at the
Metropolitan Opera.
All of a sudden the doors at the head of the great staircase flew
open and an array of monks clad head to toe in flowing black
robes descended without a word. Floating faces resembled
those on the murals surrounding us. For a moment, it was the
fifteenth century. Having been up since the wee hours, the
monks had just finished their lunch in the fifteenth-century
trapeza, the refectory. It was still morning.
Father Jeremiah showed us the art studios where some of the
finest icons in the world are painted. High in what was once
the monastery���s defensive tower, the setting sun cast a golden
glow over the rich robes of the memorialized saints.
We were privileged to see two small 12th century portable
mosaic icons, one of St. George and another of St. Demetrius,
and to visit the tenth century St. George katholikon, one of
two principal churches of the monastery. As remarkable as
they are visually, they are more notable for having served as
catalysts for the profound sense of well being I felt. From the
HYLAND
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