Argolis country has not changed, except the orangeries that have replaced the leek-fields and the famous melons are still cultivated in the wider area of Argolis. The stonewalls still rise on the open hillsides as always. Those wonderful walls, often the only sign of the hand of man, symbolize the very breath of life of the high Argolis country. It is a wonderful phenomenon to me that long ago, men just slapped prone stones down one on top of the other on those dizzy gradients and left them to stand there in all weathers for hundreds of years. It was not as easy as that, of course; it was a highly skilled and curved job that has become largely a lost art of our forefathers.

But what I see most clearly in my mind is the little area of soft grass by the edge of the stream where I picnicked with my family and students. I can see the golden seashore of Tolo, a fishing village deep in the Argolic Gulf, where my children built their first sand-castles on the beach. These are the footpaths, when they were young and which stand out most vividly from the colorful paper.

These indeed, as I look down on Argolis are the sweet places of memory. The modern open market of Argos is beside the classic, restored building of the medieval market. I have passed through it a thousand times as I descend to the town center. I always looked on it as the gateway to the center. A wide flagstone-paved space, where twice a week the farmers sell well and the homemakers bring fresh, vegetables, fruit and fish to their houses. This helps a lot to the healthy red cheeks and happy faces.

Six km to the SW of Argos lies Nea Kios. The happy summer resort of our tender years. The sea is clear, warm and light bleu. The dry sand is better for digging pools, which the children enjoy filling with the salty water. The fishing boats are resting at the river before they take their passengers to the Argolic Gulf.

Argos Ancient Theater—Castle