This summer, I found myself traveling a path I never imagined when I first began my academic journey. From the quiet, rural, unknown corners of northern Greece, where peace and silence of the daily life rules over the minds of my compatriots, to the grand cities far away from home, where the "real world" is, I was thrown into a whirlwind of conferences and workshops. My task? To share my research on two apocryphal texts—the Acta Pilati from the Gospel of Nicodemus and the Apocalypse of Peter—engage in discussions, and explore how ancient texts and modern perspectives intersect with one another. As someone from a small town, where daily life is simple and slow-paced, joining conferences felt like crossing into a different world. It wasn’t just about stepping into new cities—it was about stepping into a broader conversation. I carried with me not just my papers and presentations but also the lens of someone who is deeply rooted in a place where history and tradition are tangible, yet the world of academia can sometimes feel far away.
Yet, the theme of perspective connected everything. It wasn’t just what I was presenting in my papers, it was how I saw these places and events. Each city, each conference, each encounter was filtered through my own experiences. And this is what I want to share with this diary-like post: my impressions, not just as an academic but as someone standing at the crossroads of the familiar and the unknown. From the fusion of ancient and modern in Istanbul, to the intellectual intensity of Washington D.C., the rich traditions of Sofia, the openness of Amsterdam, and the Gothic splendor of Glasgow, each stop on this journey shaped my work in unexpected ways. In the end, it wasn’t just about the papers I presented, but about how my view of the world—and of the texts I study—expanded.
Istanbul: A Bridge Between Worlds
My first stop for this year's conference period was Istanbul. This city holds a special place for me as a Greek. Walking through its ancient streets, I couldn’t help but feel the deep, shared history between Greeks and Turks. Seeing closed churches, once places of worship for my ancestors, stirred quiet reflection—not sadness, but a recognition of how time has shaped this city. Yet, Istanbul is much more than its past; it’s a living, vibrant city where cultures meet, and history feels alive in every corner.
The seminar, organized by the Hellenic and Turkish Bible Societies, brought together a small but diverse group from around the world. Despite our different denominations and backgrounds, it felt like a gathering of friends. The intimate setting allowed for real connection, and the conversations went beyond academic papers. There was a strong sense of shared purpose, a warmth that made the experience feel more personal than professional.
Istanbul itself provided the perfect backdrop. The iconic skyline, with its mosques and markets, seemed to echo the seminar’s theme of bridging differences. Between sessions, we wandered through the city, exploring its layers of history and culture. The informal conversations we had during these walks—about life, work, and everything in between—added a richness that formal discussions sometimes miss.
This blend of ancient history and modern connection made my time in Istanbul feel profound. It wasn’t just about presenting ideas; it was about finding common ground, understanding each other better, and appreciating the shared human experience. Much like Istanbul itself, the seminar became a place where different worlds met, reminding me of the power of connection.
Washington D.C.: Feeling Small in the Center of the World
After Istanbul, I arrived in Washington D.C., a city that truly felt like the center of the world. Walking past towering monuments and grand museums, I couldn’t escape the feeling of how small I was in comparison. This is where real decisions are made—where history is constantly in motion. Coming from a small town in northern Greece, the contrast was striking.
Despite the city's grandeur, it was the sense of community that defined my time in D.C. For two weeks, I lived in the dorms of the Catholic University of America with scholars from all over the world. We shared meals, laughed, and even had movie nights together. What could have been just another academic event became something more—a close-knit group that made this vast city feel smaller, more intimate.
The LOGOS workshop, hosted by the Museum of the Bible and the Green family, delved into Bible studies, manuscript traditions, and ancient languages. Days were filled with intense sessions, but evenings brought a different rhythm. We would gather after dinner to share stories, talk about our backgrounds, and reflect on the diverse paths that led us there. It was these moments, beyond the formal discussions, that made me feel truly part of something bigger.
The city itself added another layer to the experience. Walking through the National Mall or visiting the Smithsonian museums, I felt both inspired and humbled by the city's pulse. But amidst the grandeur, our small community reminded me that, in the end, it’s the personal connections that matter most.
Sofia: Familiar Faces, Familiar Heat
From D.C., I headed to Sofia for the European Association of Biblical Studies conference. Finally, some charted waters. Returning to EABS felt like coming home. There’s a comfort in knowing the rhythms, seeing familiar faces, and continuing the conversations from previous years. It’s not just about presenting papers, but about engaging in meaningful discussions that feel like part of an ongoing journey.
Sofia was a lively backdrop with its mix of history and modernity, with its balkan vibe all over the city. But the real standout this year? The heat! It was the kind of sweltering weather that made you wonder if apocalyptic texts were more literal than we thought! Everyone felt it, and it became something of a shared joke—a bonding experience as we navigated both dense discussions and the oppressive temperatures.
Despite the heat, the sense of camaraderie at EABS made it all worthwhile. My presentations on colors and focalization in apocryphal texts led to some great conversations, but it was the atmosphere of the conference that tied everything together. EABS isn’t just a conference; it’s a community of scholars eager to challenge and support one another.
As I walked through Sofia’s streets between sessions, its old churches and modern buildings felt like a reflection of the layered conversations we were having. EABS has become a part of my academic journey, and despite the heat, it felt like exactly where I needed to be.
Amsterdam: Conversations Along the Canals
After Sofia, I arrived in Amsterdam for the International Society of Biblical Literature conference. The city felt instantly different from anywhere I’d been before—its canals, open skies, and blend of old and new give it a unique charm. Walking through the streets, I sensed a certain openness and fluidity that seemed to mirror the spirit of its people.
The conference itself reflected this atmosphere. Every conversation, whether over coffee or during a late stroll along the canals, felt like a journey into new ideas. Amsterdam’s academic environment encourages exploration, much like the city’s layout. Scholars from all over the world brought fresh perspectives, and each encounter opened up new angles on familiar subjects.
The connections I made here went beyond the academic. Colleagues became part of my journey, as we shared not just ideas, but stories. In this city, where history and modernity blend seamlessly, the conversations seemed to flow as naturally as the water through its canals. Some of the most meaningful discussions happened in unexpected moments—over dinner or while wandering through the city’s narrow streets.
Amsterdam felt like a place built for dialogue. The freedom to explore both intellectually and physically led to unexpected discoveries. The conference wasn’t just about presentations; it was about how the city, the people, and the ideas came together, creating a space where thoughts and connections flowed freely, just like the waterways winding through the city.
Glasgow: To the Highlands!
Arriving in Glasgow felt like stepping into another world—cool, breezy, and wonderfully relaxed. The northest I've traveled (for now). The city’s Gothic architecture and old-world charm captivated me right away. Glasgow had a magical feel to it, especially at the University of Glasgow, where the British New Testament Society conference was held. The campus, with its spires and ivy-covered stone walls, looked like something straight out of Harry Potter. It felt more like a castle than a university, adding a romantic, historical air to the experience.
The conference itself matched this laid-back vibe. Compared to the intensity of earlier conferences, BNTS had a more relaxed pace, leaving plenty of room for casual conversations. The friendly Scottish atmosphere was infectious—everywhere I went, I was met with warmth and lively discussions, whether over a pint at a local pub or while strolling the city’s cobbled streets.
Glasgow felt like the perfect place to wrap up my summer. The cool air, the blend of ancient stone buildings, and the green spaces made it a calming end to the whirlwind of ideas and discussions from the past months. As I left, I realized that, like the other cities I visited, it wasn’t just the academic content that stayed with me—it was the people, the places, and the unique vibe of each stop. Glasgow’s Hogwarts-like university and its welcoming people made this final leg one of my favorites.
Wrapping Up: A Journey of Perspectives
As I reflect on this whirlwind summer, I’m struck by how each city, each conference, and each conversation contributed to my understanding of not just the texts I study but of myself as well. From Istanbul to Glasgow, I’ve seen how focalization and narrative perspective aren’t confined to the ancient world—they shape how we experience everything, from the stories we read in the Acta Pilati and the Apocalypse of Peter to the journeys we take.
What began as a series of academic presentations evolved into something much more—a journey of shifting viewpoints, where every stop brought new insights and deeper connections. My rural roots in Greece may feel far away from the grand cities I visited, but this summer, I realized that no matter where we come from, we all bring unique perspectives to the larger conversation.
This summer, through the lens of apocryphal texts and narrative theory, I’ve learned that perspectives—like stories—are always evolving. And as my journey continues, I look forward to seeing where the next chapter takes me.
[The diary intro was tailored with the aid of our "beloved" ChatGPT 4.0o, intro image generated by Midjourney 6.1, and pics taken with my trusty phone!]
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