In our Greece Holiday here on the beautiful Evia Island, we made some daytrips to Athens and visited the beautiful Benaki museum.
We made a stunning discovery that I think hardly anyone knows: Almyros, the god of Landcraft and Coastal Transformation, son of Poseidon and Anthera, is the deity who brought forth land from the sea with his divine spade and bag of sand and as such created Almere.
In the distant past, when the gods still roamed the earth and the seas, there was a lesser-known corner of the divine family tree where oddities were born. Among these oddities was Almyros, the god of Almere, who was not like other gods. He was the son of Poseidon, the mighty god of the sea, and Anthera, the goddess of bad decisions and impromptu picnics.
Almyros grew up surrounded by water, as any good son of Poseidon would. He had seashells for toys, dolphins as playmates, and could swim before he could walk. But despite all this, Almyros had one nagging thought: he was tired of water. “Water, water, everywhere,” he grumbled, “but not a plot of land to stand on!” One day, after yet another boring underwater feast, where the menu consisted of nothing but seaweed salads and fish, Almyros approached his father with an unthinkable request. “Father,” he began, “I want land!” Poseidon, with his trident in hand and a perplexed look on his face, nearly spat out his kelp wine. “Land? But you’re the son of the sea! Why on earth would you want land?” Almyros explained, “I’m tired of being soggy all the time. I want to build something, plant something, and, most importantly, dry out for once!” Poseidon sighed, “Land is for mortals and those other land-loving gods. But fine, if you insist, I’ll grant you a piece of land. But only a small one!” With a wave of his trident, Poseidon raised a tiny patch of land from the sea. It was no bigger than a picnic blanket (one of Anthera’s doing, no doubt). Almyros looked at it and frowned. “This won’t do at all! I need more land!”
Now, Anthera, who had been lounging nearby, munching on ambrosia sandwiches, chimed in. “Darling, why not make your own land? Get creative!” Inspired by his mother’s suggestion (though perhaps not fully understanding the implications of ‘getting creative’), Almyros grabbed the first things he could find—a spade and a bag of sand.”Watch and learn,” he declared with great enthusiasm.
He began digging up sand from the seabed and piling it onto the tiny patch of land. With every scoop, the land grew. Almyros, so absorbed in his work, didn’t notice the seas around him slowly starting to drain. Soon, the land he was creating became vast, stretching out into what would later be known as Flevoland. Poseidon, realizing that the sea level was dropping alarmingly, rushed over to his son. “Almyros! What have you done?” But Almyros, covered in sand and grinning from ear to ear, replied, “I’ve made land, Father! Now I can plant trees, build towns, and dry my feet whenever I please!” Poseidon sighed deeply. “You’ve turned a sea into a land… Fine, but you’ll have to take care of it. And don’t come crying to me when you miss the ocean breeze.”
And so, Almyros became the god of Almere, lord of the newly formed land. His symbols—a spade and a bag of sand—are reminders of his grand project. To this day, the people of Almere sometimes find odd patches of sand where they shouldn’t be, a lingering sign of their god’s slightly overenthusiastic land reclamation project. Almyros, for his part, couldn’t be happier. After all, he had the best of both worlds—land to walk on and, if he ever got nostalgic, water is just a short walk away.