The Corinth to Patras route, a westward 134-kilometre-long itinerary on the northern shore of Peloponnese, winds on a relatively narrow strip of land with successive sandy coves, small and paradisiacal, spectacular views with intense natural outlines, culminations, sudden visual transitions, dry waterbeds or rapid streams running to the sea depending on the season, mountain ranges falling abruptly into it. Before the construction of the straighter new road, the old one passed through settlements with seaside taverns built pier-like, and ‘archaic’ canopies made of straw or canvas for sun protection. Their elementary, archetypal simplicity inspired Modern Greek architects like Aris Constantinides.1 This landscape is a cathartic initiation that I first experienced every week during the years of teaching at the University of Patras. It prepared me for a deep contact with this city and raised the ante of my expectations. Behind the windowpane, I watched everything still reverberating breathtakingly of myth, as the Greek aesthetic and mythological tradition emerges vivid, almost embossed in these kilometres. A fluid geographical unconscious disguised as art imaginaries, myths and ancient literary associations is here powerfully and multifariously palpable.