It is nothing short of remarkable that Tom and I flew 12 flights during our trip to Greece--dodging volcanic ash, two country-wide strikes in Greece, and a British Air strike--and didn't encounter one delay or cancellation. Very contrary to my history in the air.
Greece has so much to offer, and although we were fortunate enough to experience both the mountains and the sea on our visit, we feel that we hardly scratched the surface. If we are lucky enough to return some day, Crete, the Peloponnese Peninsula, and countless smaller islands still await. Maybe by then, the Greek economy will have made a comeback. Though, outside of Athens, there was not a place where we could notice any unrest. Imagine returning a rental car to a public lot at an airport and just leaving the keys under the mat. Exactly what we did, twice.
Ten flights fill my schedule during the next ten days, but they are to far more mundane locations. At least they're still for pleasure--taking Maggie to graduation at the Cate School, visiting and touring University of Oregon with her, visiting my parents, attending my Middlebury reunion. Then I'm looking forward to a peaceful summer at home in Seattle. After turning our heat back on during the Memorial Day weekend, I have high hopes that the sun will someday return.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Katerina
No, Katerina is not another of the Greek isles, although it is a very popular name in Greece. Katerina is our young-at-heart, ever-effusive, and gracious hostess on Santorini, who proved to be invaluable to our experience there.
Has a hotel owner ever greeted you with a hug and a kiss? Katerina Kontoe, owner of Ifestio Villas, greeted us just that way upon our arrival in Oia. She and I had traded many emails before our visit, and she promised me she would "take care of everything." Just a few years older than we are, Katerina lives large. She married a plastic surgeon when she was just 18, had two sons, and later became an urban planner and an interior designer. She traveled the world with her husband, everywhere but Mexico, she says, and then commuted two hours to and from work in Athens for years. When she'd had enough of the rat race, she escaped to Santorini and bought a 250-year-old cave house in Oia. She renovated villas above and below her own house, and now rents them to tourists--not for the money, but for the love of meeting people and helping them know Santorini.
I'd read enough reviews about Katerina and her villas to know that she would be special. This was only confirmed when she couldn't fit us in on the first night of our stay, so instead offered us a room and private bath in her own house. She reserved a rental car for us and had an agent meet us at the airport to lead us to Oia. When we realized we really didn't want to try to carry our three duffels down the 81 steps to the villas, she dropped our car keys at the rental car office, told them where we had parked the car, and asked them to drag the bags down for us. When we arrived back at the villa after dinner, the bags were there, stashed in our cozy room. She prepared breakfast for us the next morning.
Sitting with her at the table on her deck, we pored over a map of the island. Katerina warned us of the crowded areas to avoid and pointed out the beaches we should explore. Her best recommendation was a night at Santorina Mou for typical homecooked food and Greek guitar music by the owner, Mihalis (aka Mike). Tom and I headed there one night, and Katerina and two Greek friends joined us a bit later. It was a lively scene, and not one we would have found on our own. Mike takes photos of each and every dinner guest and then fills album after album with the pictures. We leafed through some of the 42 books and found documentation of Katerina dancing, and Katerina dancing on tables. She is a long-time friend of Mike's. We returned there two nights later with four friends from the Wilderness trip.
Best of all, Katerina steered us towards the right beaches. It was Cape Columbo where we found total isolation and a small, family-owned taverna down the road, complete with very entertaining, argumentative discussions and meals cooked by a Greek grandmother. At Perivolos, we encountered the hip, young beach scene where we were easily two, perhaps almost three, decades removed from our peer group. Comfortable thatched palapas, each shading two lounge chairs, a small table, and a call button for the accompanying bar/restaurant, were set up on a black sand beach. We ate at Chilli's--good food and pulsating loud music (heavy on the bass) all afternoon. The Greek covers of bands such as Simon & Garfunkel, the Eagles, Madonna, and the Stones were fabulous. (I'm guessing the covers were Greek because some of the lyrics were pronounced with a certain foreign flair, but they could be from another country.) I only wish there were a way I could find them for my iTunes library.
The people-watching at Perivolos was top rate. Anything more than a string bikini and you're over-dressed; a one-piece suit...unfathomable. Luckily, the same didn't hold true for the men as most of them were clad in long board shorts. Too many Speedos in one place is not a good visual. Most refreshing was the obvious "I'm comfortable in my own skin" body confidence. Men and women of all shapes and sizes sported revealing suits and strutted around as if they hadn't a care in the world. Fascinating, and a lesson to be learned.
Freeze frame. I could have sat there all afternoon and evening, just soaking in the scene and the loud music. I imagine that perhaps Maggie will make her way there someday.
Has a hotel owner ever greeted you with a hug and a kiss? Katerina Kontoe, owner of Ifestio Villas, greeted us just that way upon our arrival in Oia. She and I had traded many emails before our visit, and she promised me she would "take care of everything." Just a few years older than we are, Katerina lives large. She married a plastic surgeon when she was just 18, had two sons, and later became an urban planner and an interior designer. She traveled the world with her husband, everywhere but Mexico, she says, and then commuted two hours to and from work in Athens for years. When she'd had enough of the rat race, she escaped to Santorini and bought a 250-year-old cave house in Oia. She renovated villas above and below her own house, and now rents them to tourists--not for the money, but for the love of meeting people and helping them know Santorini.
With Katerina on her patio
I'd read enough reviews about Katerina and her villas to know that she would be special. This was only confirmed when she couldn't fit us in on the first night of our stay, so instead offered us a room and private bath in her own house. She reserved a rental car for us and had an agent meet us at the airport to lead us to Oia. When we realized we really didn't want to try to carry our three duffels down the 81 steps to the villas, she dropped our car keys at the rental car office, told them where we had parked the car, and asked them to drag the bags down for us. When we arrived back at the villa after dinner, the bags were there, stashed in our cozy room. She prepared breakfast for us the next morning.
Sitting with her at the table on her deck, we pored over a map of the island. Katerina warned us of the crowded areas to avoid and pointed out the beaches we should explore. Her best recommendation was a night at Santorina Mou for typical homecooked food and Greek guitar music by the owner, Mihalis (aka Mike). Tom and I headed there one night, and Katerina and two Greek friends joined us a bit later. It was a lively scene, and not one we would have found on our own. Mike takes photos of each and every dinner guest and then fills album after album with the pictures. We leafed through some of the 42 books and found documentation of Katerina dancing, and Katerina dancing on tables. She is a long-time friend of Mike's. We returned there two nights later with four friends from the Wilderness trip.
Mihalis and Yannis singing, with cat in the audience
Greek who wandered in off street to dance
Best of all, Katerina steered us towards the right beaches. It was Cape Columbo where we found total isolation and a small, family-owned taverna down the road, complete with very entertaining, argumentative discussions and meals cooked by a Greek grandmother. At Perivolos, we encountered the hip, young beach scene where we were easily two, perhaps almost three, decades removed from our peer group. Comfortable thatched palapas, each shading two lounge chairs, a small table, and a call button for the accompanying bar/restaurant, were set up on a black sand beach. We ate at Chilli's--good food and pulsating loud music (heavy on the bass) all afternoon. The Greek covers of bands such as Simon & Garfunkel, the Eagles, Madonna, and the Stones were fabulous. (I'm guessing the covers were Greek because some of the lyrics were pronounced with a certain foreign flair, but they could be from another country.) I only wish there were a way I could find them for my iTunes library.
the beach at Perivolos/Parissa
The people-watching at Perivolos was top rate. Anything more than a string bikini and you're over-dressed; a one-piece suit...unfathomable. Luckily, the same didn't hold true for the men as most of them were clad in long board shorts. Too many Speedos in one place is not a good visual. Most refreshing was the obvious "I'm comfortable in my own skin" body confidence. Men and women of all shapes and sizes sported revealing suits and strutted around as if they hadn't a care in the world. Fascinating, and a lesson to be learned.
Freeze frame. I could have sat there all afternoon and evening, just soaking in the scene and the loud music. I imagine that perhaps Maggie will make her way there someday.
Oia sunset on our last night in Greece
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Santorini
Give Tom a tall Mythos at lunch and he drives more like a Greek. Yet somehow we lose each game of chicken on the road. Every game. We wind around a blind corner in our little Peugeot Cabrio convertible, and a Greek car heads straight towards us, in the middle of the road, until we veer to the shoulder, cowering. I finally figured out what gives us away--the large Vezios Rental Car decal that is affixed to the top of the passenger side of our windshield. I wonder what would happen if we called their bluff and didn't give way. I imagine we'd still lose.
The palette here is neutrals--gray, tan, golden brown, and stark white--contrasted with the brilliant Santorini blue, which I can only describe as close to royal with a drop of periwinkle thrown in. When the sun is shining, the blue of the Aegean below almost matches the blue on the houses; there are also splotches of aqua and turquoise in the shallower waters. Green is but a trim color, usually of the hues of sage or succulents, contrasted with the occasional darker green of the grapevines at the wineries. All is punctuated by the bright flowers in pots and hung by doorways, or once in a while by a tall, flowering hibiscus.
In Oia, we are staying in one of the cave houses at Ifestio Villas. The bedroom in our villa is but a mere cubbyhole--a bed nestled between three walls, and a small set of shelves alongside an area to hang a few clothes. But we have a sizable living room/kitchenette/eating area, a decent bath, and a small balcony with a stupendous view.
These houses drip down the hillside, hanging to the cliffs above the water. Walls separate different properties, and long sets of uneven stairs wind downwards. Everywhere, there is the movement of cats, jumping up and down walls or onto roofs. Hard to tell how many have a home at night. Dogs trot up and down the main marble walkway in the town above. They always seem to be on a mission. Seemingly, none of them are spayed or neutered, but many wear collars.
Each time we walk from our villa to the pedestrian walkway above, we climb 81 steps. The first night we were here, we walked westward to the small port for dinner. To reach Sunset Taverna, we descended 239 steps, each separated by one to four steep paces. A herd of mules huddled near the bottom, waiting to haul tourists back up the steps after dinner. Unfortunately, the mules leave their calling cards on the stones, adding to the challenge of an ascent after dark. Early-morning stair climbs for exercise become obstacle courses.
Friday's weather was very windy and rainy, so we decided to explore Fira, the largest town on the island. We were fascinated by the Museum of Prehistoric Thira and enjoyed a casual lunch at Lucky's Souvlaki, a little hole-in-the-wall frequented by locals, but after a few hours, I had seen one too many beer-bellied Americans wearing a Disneyworld t-shirt. Cruise ship passengers inundate the narrow cobbled streets, making the paths difficult to negotiate, especially during a thunderstorm. Shortly thereafter, we escaped back to Oia.
Early morning is very peaceful here and we already feel ownership in this town, especially when the first group of tourists with cruise line stickers on their chests arrive. To our dismay, we found that the cruise lines also bus their people to Oia, the first load arriving around 8:15 a.m. It's easy to see why so many people want to come here; the setting is stunning.
The palette here is neutrals--gray, tan, golden brown, and stark white--contrasted with the brilliant Santorini blue, which I can only describe as close to royal with a drop of periwinkle thrown in. When the sun is shining, the blue of the Aegean below almost matches the blue on the houses; there are also splotches of aqua and turquoise in the shallower waters. Green is but a trim color, usually of the hues of sage or succulents, contrasted with the occasional darker green of the grapevines at the wineries. All is punctuated by the bright flowers in pots and hung by doorways, or once in a while by a tall, flowering hibiscus.
In Oia, we are staying in one of the cave houses at Ifestio Villas. The bedroom in our villa is but a mere cubbyhole--a bed nestled between three walls, and a small set of shelves alongside an area to hang a few clothes. But we have a sizable living room/kitchenette/eating area, a decent bath, and a small balcony with a stupendous view.
Villa Paride
These houses drip down the hillside, hanging to the cliffs above the water. Walls separate different properties, and long sets of uneven stairs wind downwards. Everywhere, there is the movement of cats, jumping up and down walls or onto roofs. Hard to tell how many have a home at night. Dogs trot up and down the main marble walkway in the town above. They always seem to be on a mission. Seemingly, none of them are spayed or neutered, but many wear collars.
Oia
Each time we walk from our villa to the pedestrian walkway above, we climb 81 steps. The first night we were here, we walked westward to the small port for dinner. To reach Sunset Taverna, we descended 239 steps, each separated by one to four steep paces. A herd of mules huddled near the bottom, waiting to haul tourists back up the steps after dinner. Unfortunately, the mules leave their calling cards on the stones, adding to the challenge of an ascent after dark. Early-morning stair climbs for exercise become obstacle courses.
The main walkway in Oia, in the early morning
Friday's weather was very windy and rainy, so we decided to explore Fira, the largest town on the island. We were fascinated by the Museum of Prehistoric Thira and enjoyed a casual lunch at Lucky's Souvlaki, a little hole-in-the-wall frequented by locals, but after a few hours, I had seen one too many beer-bellied Americans wearing a Disneyworld t-shirt. Cruise ship passengers inundate the narrow cobbled streets, making the paths difficult to negotiate, especially during a thunderstorm. Shortly thereafter, we escaped back to Oia.
Early morning is very peaceful here and we already feel ownership in this town, especially when the first group of tourists with cruise line stickers on their chests arrive. To our dismay, we found that the cruise lines also bus their people to Oia, the first load arriving around 8:15 a.m. It's easy to see why so many people want to come here; the setting is stunning.
View out to the balcony of our villa
The sun is back, with a vengeance, so now we explore the island beaches, both secluded and "organized."
Just had to throw in the shot below, taken at the Athens airport on our way here.
Outfit of the day--ventilated Lycra
Thursday, May 20, 2010
MHS/Disappointment on Mt. Olympus
Second in rank to the PITA, but perhaps even more annoying, is the MHS (mountain hut snorer). There's a reason that our night in a mountain hut is scheduled near the end of the trip. The MHS would be lynched early on otherwise. Granted I am a light sleeper, but the noises emanating from Mrs. TMI, eminently worthy of the MHS crown on this trip, were otherworldly. Someone else in the room, unidentifiable, was supplying the harmony. Put me in a room with bunks sleeping 17 climbers, and I am pretty much guaranteed a sleepless night. What's astounding to me is that some in our group were able to sleep through. Four heavy wool blankets managed to keep me warm in that unheated room at 7200', but there was no easy solution for the snorer. Poor Lee had to leave her cozy bed to visit the cold, damp WC in the basement in the middle of the night. When she returned, I suggested that she slug the snorer. She did just that, but we enjoyed only a brief reprieve. I am used to starting a summit attempt with weary eyes.
Guess I didn't pay too much attention to the location of Mt. Olympus beforehand because I was surprised to find it located so close to the Aegean coast. The drive to the trailhead at Prionia from Litochoro reminded me of the drive up to Paradise on Rainier--a twisty mountain road rising through forests of pine. The trail itself was rock, stone, and scree, often covered with pine needles and interspersed with steps not designed with medium-height women in mind. Hiking poles were a necessity. We climbed very slowly with Kostas in the lead and arrived at the mountain hut around 1:00. Acres of snapped pine trees showed evidence of last winter's avalanches; we traversed many such gullies that would be treacherous at another time of year. Beautiful wildflowers, even wild strawberries, abounded.
After enjoying a lunch of very welcome hot soup and salad, we evaluated the weather for a summit attempt that afternoon. Word was that there was too much wind up above, so we decided we'd spend the night there and set out the next morning instead. Endless hours were spent on the rotisserie in front of the one fireplace. Warm your frontside, warm your backside. Repeat as necessary. We had discussed bringing a deck of cards along, but Greek superstition disallowed any card-playing in the hut.
The next morning dawned a tad bit warmer and sunny with some scattered clouds blowing in and out from the valley below. Three in the group decided to stay at the hut rather than venturing above. Scree, scree, and more scree, accompanied by beautiful views of the surrounding snow-covered peaks. We wound our way up the mountain and around to the backside for a long climb up the ridge to the five peaks of Mt. Olympus. Our plans included climbs of Skala and Skolio. No such luck. Kostas had left the group to visit his severely ill mother, so Nikos was left to guide the 8 of us. When we reached the point where the snow-covered trail became decidedly steeper, Nikos had to make a decision. He made the decision that was right for the group; we were turning around because the descent on the snow would be too dangerous. Tom and I, had we been alone, would have continued on. But such is the nature of group climbs. Disappointing.
We retreated from about 8600' back to the mountain hut and then all the way down to the trailhead at 3600'. Lots of tired knees last night and copious amounts of food consumed at our farewell dinner. Kostas, who had rejoined our group at the trailhead after our descent, informed us that we had sampled 84 different Greek dishes during the meals on our 10-day trip--another benefit of travel with a native and not something we could have easily accomplished on our own.
Nikos drove us to the airport in Thessaloniki this morning, and now Tom and I await our flight to Santorini via Athens. Another Greek strike is occuring today; luckily the airlines are not included. It was a bit humorous to arrive at a tollbooth and see a sign announcing the strike--no tolls being collected. Hmmm. Nikos said Greece is acting like a Third World country and could stand to lose about 1.5 billion Euros in business from tourism this summer due to the footage of the strikes and riots in Athens. Unfortunate. Traveling in the countryside the mountains, and the islands, we have been unaffected.
Another wonderful Wilderness Travel trip, but I'm now looking forward to some peaceful sleep and unscheduled days.
Tom at the trailhead
Rest stop (Kostas in black shirt, Tom and Linda behind, Gary foreground)
posted on the wall in the hut
The next morning dawned a tad bit warmer and sunny with some scattered clouds blowing in and out from the valley below. Three in the group decided to stay at the hut rather than venturing above. Scree, scree, and more scree, accompanied by beautiful views of the surrounding snow-covered peaks. We wound our way up the mountain and around to the backside for a long climb up the ridge to the five peaks of Mt. Olympus. Our plans included climbs of Skala and Skolio. No such luck. Kostas had left the group to visit his severely ill mother, so Nikos was left to guide the 8 of us. When we reached the point where the snow-covered trail became decidedly steeper, Nikos had to make a decision. He made the decision that was right for the group; we were turning around because the descent on the snow would be too dangerous. Tom and I, had we been alone, would have continued on. But such is the nature of group climbs. Disappointing.
Looking back upwards from the trail on the descent
Nikos drove us to the airport in Thessaloniki this morning, and now Tom and I await our flight to Santorini via Athens. Another Greek strike is occuring today; luckily the airlines are not included. It was a bit humorous to arrive at a tollbooth and see a sign announcing the strike--no tolls being collected. Hmmm. Nikos said Greece is acting like a Third World country and could stand to lose about 1.5 billion Euros in business from tourism this summer due to the footage of the strikes and riots in Athens. Unfortunate. Traveling in the countryside the mountains, and the islands, we have been unaffected.
Another wonderful Wilderness Travel trip, but I'm now looking forward to some peaceful sleep and unscheduled days.
Monday, May 17, 2010
Photos from Greece
Athens
In front of the Parthenon
Riot police near Parliament
In the old Olympic stadium
At the Lindos Blu Hotel on Rhodes
Kostas
Lee and Linda on the trail
Tom
A stone path we hiked
Not like the trails at home
Kostas with tortoise
Stone bridge built in 18th century
Judy, Pam, and Gale
Typical taverna in the mountains
Greek woman tending her garden
Meteora
Pam and Gale, the "TMI" couple
the mighty Kostas
Wearing the required skirt at a monastery in Meteora
Meteora
Meteora
Nikos, Tom, and Kostas
Hiking down one of the rock towers in Meteora
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Greek oddities
No matter how large the bedroom or bathroom, it's simply a given that the shower will be no bigger than a phone booth. There will be more towels than you will ever use, all crammed onto one small rack. There is no place to hang wet towels--no hooks, no other racks. The shower will have a handheld nozzle but no place high on the wall to hang it. Thus it must be balanced above the spout while soaping up or washing one's hair, all the while shivering because the warm water is only spraying your toes, not the rest of your body. It is also a given that the entire shiny tile floor will be puddled upon departure from the shower, regardless of the level of care taken to keep the spray from said nozzle aimed inside the shower. A drain sits in the middle of the tile floor, presumably to help solve the aforementioned puddle problem, but for some reason, the water never seems to reach the drain. Step in the puddles on the slick tile in the middle of the night, and anything might happen.
Greeks have a unique way of speaking with one another. Their language is not a gentle or lilting one; instead, it always sounds contentious and combative. The Greeks are so direct and strong in their speech that I'm always dying to know what they are saying. Unfortunately, I cannot even pick up a word here or there. The only time I have witnessed any softness or tenderness is in some of the music on the CDs that Nikos brought along. Kostas believes that it is silly to not demand what we want in life, and it certainly shows in his conversations. I think he usually gets what he needs.
Today we drove about four hours from Papingo to Ioannina to Meteora, a bit on a new superhighway, but for the most part on winding mountain roads. I sat in the middle of the front seat, and still my stomach barely survived the tortuous trip. If a car in front of you is too slow, you pass going around corners, down hills, or just whenever you're feeling brave. Never mind that oncoming cars always feel the need to have a tire or two on the wrong side of the double white line. Did I mention that most of today's drive was in torrential rain?
Lesson learned: In Greece, it is "bak-LA-va," not "bak-la-VA," as it is in Turkey or the US. Ate some of the best ever at lunch today. Must go looking for good Greek food upon returning to Seattle.
Settled into a hotel in Meteora now, the fascinating town of towering rocks capped with monasteries and nunneries. The sun has returned. Tomorrow we explore, and then we head towards Mount Olympus.
Greeks have a unique way of speaking with one another. Their language is not a gentle or lilting one; instead, it always sounds contentious and combative. The Greeks are so direct and strong in their speech that I'm always dying to know what they are saying. Unfortunately, I cannot even pick up a word here or there. The only time I have witnessed any softness or tenderness is in some of the music on the CDs that Nikos brought along. Kostas believes that it is silly to not demand what we want in life, and it certainly shows in his conversations. I think he usually gets what he needs.
Today we drove about four hours from Papingo to Ioannina to Meteora, a bit on a new superhighway, but for the most part on winding mountain roads. I sat in the middle of the front seat, and still my stomach barely survived the tortuous trip. If a car in front of you is too slow, you pass going around corners, down hills, or just whenever you're feeling brave. Never mind that oncoming cars always feel the need to have a tire or two on the wrong side of the double white line. Did I mention that most of today's drive was in torrential rain?
Lesson learned: In Greece, it is "bak-LA-va," not "bak-la-VA," as it is in Turkey or the US. Ate some of the best ever at lunch today. Must go looking for good Greek food upon returning to Seattle.
Settled into a hotel in Meteora now, the fascinating town of towering rocks capped with monasteries and nunneries. The sun has returned. Tomorrow we explore, and then we head towards Mount Olympus.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Down, Up, Drenched
My feet are doing remarkably well, actually. After countless years, I have finally perfected the art of spraying, taping, and powdering my feet each morning to avoid blisters. The pads of my feet, however, desperately need to no longer touch the ground by the end of the day. Thanks for asking.
Now that we've been together a number of days, personalities of group members are starting to emerge. A once tight-lipped, serious-looking retired teacher has now entertained us immensely with her closely held dry sense of humor. One husband of a lovely soft-spoken woman starts talking about himself and won't stop. The oldest member of the group, Ed, has a serious ice cream fetish. A wife married to one fifteen years her elder makes slightly inappropriate comments about her husband that make me bite my tongue before blurting out, "TMI (too much information)." But it's still a good group, PITA-less.
We tromped down, down, down into the bottom of the Vikos Gorge and walked alongside the river, encountering a couple rather difficult areas of loose scree and seemingly insurmountable boulders, areas where Kostas' huge grip on our arms helped pull us up. Kostas may possibly be one of the largest men in Greece At 6'7" and roughly 280 pounds, he is a looming figure. Add a deep baritone voice, and you can see why I say I wouldn't want to come across him in a dark alley. His knowledge of the area and its history is limitless, and he is gifted with a wonderful sense of humor as well, but he does need a new button-down shirt for Christmas, a larger one.
After our long descent, we enjoyed a wonderful picnic lunch by a swimming hole in the river. Only Tom and Gary dared to dip in the frigid water. A few more miles of gentle up and down awaited us after lunch, and then we started the serious climb up a long series of switchbacks on a stone path to head out of the gorge to the town of Vikos, where well-earned ice cream was in store.
Now that we've been together a number of days, personalities of group members are starting to emerge. A once tight-lipped, serious-looking retired teacher has now entertained us immensely with her closely held dry sense of humor. One husband of a lovely soft-spoken woman starts talking about himself and won't stop. The oldest member of the group, Ed, has a serious ice cream fetish. A wife married to one fifteen years her elder makes slightly inappropriate comments about her husband that make me bite my tongue before blurting out, "TMI (too much information)." But it's still a good group, PITA-less.
We tromped down, down, down into the bottom of the Vikos Gorge and walked alongside the river, encountering a couple rather difficult areas of loose scree and seemingly insurmountable boulders, areas where Kostas' huge grip on our arms helped pull us up. Kostas may possibly be one of the largest men in Greece At 6'7" and roughly 280 pounds, he is a looming figure. Add a deep baritone voice, and you can see why I say I wouldn't want to come across him in a dark alley. His knowledge of the area and its history is limitless, and he is gifted with a wonderful sense of humor as well, but he does need a new button-down shirt for Christmas, a larger one.
After our long descent, we enjoyed a wonderful picnic lunch by a swimming hole in the river. Only Tom and Gary dared to dip in the frigid water. A few more miles of gentle up and down awaited us after lunch, and then we started the serious climb up a long series of switchbacks on a stone path to head out of the gorge to the town of Vikos, where well-earned ice cream was in store.
the climb out of the gorge
After relaxing at a cafe while waiting for Kostas and one of our group members who wasn't feeling well, I decided to gather up trash from our tables to dump in the garbage. The cafe owner barged out from inside and berated me. Apparently, she could only keep track of what we owed by examining the wrappers, cans, and bottles on the table. Oops.
We then packed up the van and drove down, up, and over too many switchbacks to count on our way to Mikro Papingo.
Nikos and our pile of luggage
This morning we awakened to a radical change in the weather--heavy winds and torrential rain. It didn't seem wise to head 3,000' upwards on today's hike, so instead we walked down to another town and spent a little time in a cafe there. By the time we hiked back up the hill to Mikro Papingo, I could have poured rainwater out of my running shoes. A quiet day for catching up on email, reading a book, and taking my requisite afternoon nap. Hoping for better weather tomorrow.
Zagoria
We are seeing a part of Greece that I'm glad most tourists overlook--Zagoria, a region in the Pindus Mountains of northwest Greece. Having left the arid areas of the south, we are now surrounded by forested hills and tiny villages filled with stone houses with slate roofs and brightly painted doors. My first impression of Tsepelovo was the sound of buzzing bees, bees that live in all the crevices between the stones of the roads, the walls, and the houses. It's no wonder that the local honey is so delicious.
We moved on to visit Vradeto, Kipi, and Vitsa, homes to 30, 16, or even just 6, inhabitants. Each town's square is shaded by a huge plane tree, and the streets are cobbled stone. Picturesque enough to be downright charming. Our guides, Kostas and Nikos, grew up in this region and seem to know everyone. They have expertly arranged for us to dine on all the Greek specialties. Best of all is the total absence of other tourists. We are seeing a real slice of authentic Greek life--friendly innkeepers and taverna owners, workmen repairing slate roofs, an old man intricately carving a wooden spool to spin wool into yarn, kids playing soccer in the town square, small groups of townspeople passing time at the local cafe.
And the food... Ah, the delicious food--freshly baked bread with a chewy crust; soft, creamy homemade feta (70% sheep's milk, 30% goat's milk) drizzled with olive oil and oregano; rich red tomatoes, cucumbers, green peppers, and olives over shredded dark green lettuce; stifado, pastitsio; veal; chicken souvlaki; and the omnipresent heaping plate of fries cooked in olive oil. In fact, rarely is there a meal served without potatoes. Kostas is making sure that we slowly but surely make our way through the most important Greek dishes.
The trails we hike meander up and down hills, sometimes in the woods, other times on ancient stone steps, and occasionally through semi-dense brush. We pass more tortoises than hikers; the trails are almost completely devoid of other tourists. We listen to birds, examine wolf and bear droppings, peer down into the deepest gorge in the world (Vikos), admire fields of wildflowers, and listen to accounts of how all the stone bridges were built back in the early to mid-eighteenth century. The 80- to 85-degree weather is about 10 degrees warmer than is typical this time of year. Fortunately, the breeze picks up midday, helping to cool us and keep the flies at bay. The terrain is never steep enough to be too daunting, but we walk many miles each day and are ready to eat heavily laden plates of local food without guilt every night.
Tomorrow we head to the depths of the Vikos Gorge.
We moved on to visit Vradeto, Kipi, and Vitsa, homes to 30, 16, or even just 6, inhabitants. Each town's square is shaded by a huge plane tree, and the streets are cobbled stone. Picturesque enough to be downright charming. Our guides, Kostas and Nikos, grew up in this region and seem to know everyone. They have expertly arranged for us to dine on all the Greek specialties. Best of all is the total absence of other tourists. We are seeing a real slice of authentic Greek life--friendly innkeepers and taverna owners, workmen repairing slate roofs, an old man intricately carving a wooden spool to spin wool into yarn, kids playing soccer in the town square, small groups of townspeople passing time at the local cafe.
And the food... Ah, the delicious food--freshly baked bread with a chewy crust; soft, creamy homemade feta (70% sheep's milk, 30% goat's milk) drizzled with olive oil and oregano; rich red tomatoes, cucumbers, green peppers, and olives over shredded dark green lettuce; stifado, pastitsio; veal; chicken souvlaki; and the omnipresent heaping plate of fries cooked in olive oil. In fact, rarely is there a meal served without potatoes. Kostas is making sure that we slowly but surely make our way through the most important Greek dishes.
The trails we hike meander up and down hills, sometimes in the woods, other times on ancient stone steps, and occasionally through semi-dense brush. We pass more tortoises than hikers; the trails are almost completely devoid of other tourists. We listen to birds, examine wolf and bear droppings, peer down into the deepest gorge in the world (Vikos), admire fields of wildflowers, and listen to accounts of how all the stone bridges were built back in the early to mid-eighteenth century. The 80- to 85-degree weather is about 10 degrees warmer than is typical this time of year. Fortunately, the breeze picks up midday, helping to cool us and keep the flies at bay. The terrain is never steep enough to be too daunting, but we walk many miles each day and are ready to eat heavily laden plates of local food without guilt every night.
Tomorrow we head to the depths of the Vikos Gorge.
Group Travel/Peg the PITA
There was a time in my life when I couldn't imagine traveling on a group trip. Then one year Tom and I signed up for our first Wilderness Travel trip, and I began to appreciate the benefits. The trips are seamless; all the logistics are handled, and the group is most often accompanied by at least one local guide who can open a whole new window to the country we are visiting. We compare notes with other people who also enjoy traveling around the world and usually meet at least one couple we continue to communicate with and often travel with again. Sometimes we are fortunate enough to explore a little-visited area of a country, one that is not readily chosen by hordes of American tourists. Such is the case on this trip. But first I must digress to my game of "Peg the PITA."
Monday, May 10, 2010
Leaving Rhodes
Two final thoughts before we got on the plane to Athens and then Ioannina (which I'm still having trouble pronouncing):
We stopped at a gas station yesterday and asked for 10 Euros' worth of gas. It took the attendant about 30 seconds to pump it, and the change on the fuel gauge was indistinguishable. After performing some simple math, I determined that 1.62 Euros per liter is equivalent to $8.00 per gallon. We have no right to complain about gas prices at home. No wonder a rental car comes with a quarter tank, not a full one.
There was a mosquito in our room last night. Those who know me know that nothing further need be said.
Not sure where we'll next find Internet access so my next blog may be a few days in coming.
We stopped at a gas station yesterday and asked for 10 Euros' worth of gas. It took the attendant about 30 seconds to pump it, and the change on the fuel gauge was indistinguishable. After performing some simple math, I determined that 1.62 Euros per liter is equivalent to $8.00 per gallon. We have no right to complain about gas prices at home. No wonder a rental car comes with a quarter tank, not a full one.
There was a mosquito in our room last night. Those who know me know that nothing further need be said.
Not sure where we'll next find Internet access so my next blog may be a few days in coming.
the national dog
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Rhodes
The Old City
Situated just 11 miles off the coast of Turkey, it seems Rhodes ought to be Turkish instead of Greek. Not that Greece really needs another island, but with such prolific cruise line traffic, Greece is lucky to reap the benefits. On our flight southeast from Athens, Olympic Air certainly put our domestic airlines to shame. Only a 40-minute flight and they managed to serve drinks and a choice of free sandwich or box of cookies to everyone on the plane. The legroom on their one-class plane was far superior to the legroom in Business on the 767. Very pleasant.
We arrived in Rhodes under sunny, 75-degree skies. Our cab driver had to call the hotel for directions. Guess he'd never heard of the Spot Hotel, located within the Old City walls. We squeezed through an entrance and wound through cobblestone streets only barely one car wide until we reached Martyro Evreon Square. The streets were busy with tourists exploring the ancient sights and shopping for leather, jewelry, and, believe it or not, furs. Furs? Motorcyclists take great pleasure in gunning up and down the cobblestone streets watching tourists leap out of harm's way.
We dragged our duffels up the block and checked into the 9-room, 60 Euro per night, Spot Hotel. The rooms are small, but the owner Lee speaks perfect English, is friendly, and dispenses helpful advice. He arranged for a rental car to be delivered to us here tomorrow. Apparently, up to 5,000 people per day descend upon the Old City via cruise ships during the summer. Once again, I was happy to be here in May.
Lee's choice of restaurant for our dinner proved to be a good one as it was primarily occupied by locals, all of them smoking, unfortunately. Everyone smokes in Greece. Shopkeepers sit in front of their shops smoking. They also smoke inside their shops. Many people smoke while they're eating dinner. One drag on the cigarette, one bite of food. What's most surprising is to see so many young people smoking. Guess there's no education telling them to do otherwise. Or perhaps their country just has bigger problems.
Back to dinner because I just have to list what my husband consumed: an appetizer of six octopus meatballs; a roasted red pepper stuffed with feta; bread; a fish platter consisting of clams, mussels, shrimp, octopus, calamari, a whole fried fish, fries, and a tiny pile of salad; Greek yogurt with honey and walnuts; 1/2 liter of the house white; and a shot of banana liqueur. Prior to this meal, he had consumed a liter of beer in the town square. Good thing he doesn't have a weight problem.
Now it's Sunday, Tom's birthday and Mother's Day. We escaped the Old City while the streets were still drivable and headed south down the east coast of the island. The further south we got, the more we escaped the tour buses and the crowds. After about an hour and a half, we arrived at Prassonissi at the southernmost tip of the island, 92k south of the Old City, a mecca for windsurfers on the bay and kiteboarders in the surf on the other side. We donned swimsuits that I can promise you will never see the light of day on any US beach. When in Rhodes...
After some time on the hot but very breezy beach, we hopped back in our little white Hyundai to head back north. We finally figured out that the deer-crossing signs we were seeing were instead pictures of goats. Seemed a rather arid and rocky location for deer. We were clued in after spotting a wayward herd of goats walking alongside the road. I find goats to be rather humorous. Not quite sure why. Maybe it's all the stories Lindsay's told me about them after she worked with them at the zoo.
For our joint birthday/Mother's Day celebration, we checked into the lovely contemporary Lindos Blu Hotel, perched high above the turquoise waters of the Aegean.
View from the hotel
Tomorrow morning, we'll fly via Athens to Ioannina to meet our Wilderness Travel group for the Greece: Zagoria and Mt. Olympus hiking trip.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Athens
If we had arrived just one day prior, we may have seen or heard the gas tank of a torched car exploding only half a block from our hotel. Or we may have witnessed the bank fire that took three people's lives just around the corner and down the street. It's a time of unrest in Athens, but we were fortunate to stay clear of any violence. There was a huge police presence near Parliament, fully suited to squelch any unruly protesters. Due to the recent strikes, huge piles of garbage disgraced many sidewalks and corners. Though the economy is certainly in crisis mode, it hardly seems evident in the more touristy areas of the city.
The city of Athens is a bit at odds with itself. On one side is the grandeur of historic Athens; on the other is one of the most densely built and sprawling cities I have ever seen, teeming with over 5 1/2 million people. I'm not quite sure what happened to Greece's architectural splendor through the ages, but the modern buildings have no redeeming qualities. I can't imagine visiting Athens in the summer. Holding the Olympics here during August was cruel and unusual punishment. The weather was perfect for us--about 80 degrees and breezy. But the sky, even when it's blue, always garners a thin layer of urban haze. The crowds were present, but manageable. I certainly would not want to attempt a visit to the Acropolis elbow to elbow with the summer hordes.
We were happy to be staying at a hotel close to all that we wanted to see. Traffic is horrendous in the city, and driving is hair raising. Using one's own two feet is highly preferable. We walked miles around Plaka, the National Gardens, the old Olympic stadium, the Temple of Zeus, and the new Acropolis Museum (very impressive). We learned, somewhat, how to fend off all the owners begging us to eat at their tavernas. People-watching was one of our favorite pastimes, along with nibbling on Greek food (delicious) and sipping ouzo (a little goes a long way).
Is Athens worth a visit? Yes, a short one, preferably in May or September. Fly in, see what you want to see, and then get out. With a couple more days to kill before our hiking trip starts, we are now on our way to Rhodes, Greek but just a stone's throw from Turkey.
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