ensuitepilgrim's Blog

Farewell to the Argolic Gulf and bypassing Nafplion , on a traffic free Saturday morning, en route to Igoumenitsa. The gulf is part of the Aegean and a very picturesque area, whether you are a sailor, or a camper.

The road went northwards, passing Argos and very soon, Mycenae – an area with much to interest any amateur historian.

The motorway was joined and in no time the approach to Corinth was made, this time bypassing the ancient site of the city.

The motorway now flanked the Corinthian Gulf, for over 70 miles, heading West towards Patras, where, once again a crossing would be made over the breathtaking Rio Bridge.

The recently completed Motorway was a boon – relatively traffic free – but lacking any “services”; whether the money was not available , yet, was unclear. There were a number of well maintained WC stops, however, not much use if you ran out of fuel!

There was no lack of grand vistas on this route, by passing the Messolongi Lagoon and later the Ambracian Gulf.

Shortly before Ioannina and its lake, the road went Westwards, on the A2, through a series of tunnels and as ever, wherever in Greece, the mountains.

Eventually, and conveniently for the Midnight SuperFast Ferry , from Igoumenitsa, Camping Elena’s Beach was easily found and proved to be a pleasant location for the final day and a half in Greece, restful, too, after a 500 km drive.  Family run, with very good services and a bar/restaurant on a terrace, the Campsite typified all the sites chosen this holiday – not too large, plenty of shade and in an eye-catching setting. The Taramasalata,Aubergine Salad, Lamb Stew and Veal steaks, were good, too!

Daphne du Maurier

“I left them to it, the pointing of fingers on maps, the tracing of mountain villages, the tracks and contours on maps of larger scale, and basked for the one evening allowed to me in the casual, happy atmosphere of the taverna where we dined. I enjoyed poking my finger in a pan and choosing my own piece of lamb. I liked the chatter and the laughter from neighbouring tables. The gay intensity of talk – none of which I could understand, naturally – reminded me of left-bank Paris. A man from one table would suddenly rise to his feet and stroll over to another, discussion would follow, argument at heat perhaps swiftly dissolving into laughter. This, I thought to myself, has been happening through the centuries under this same sky, in the warm air with a bite to it, the sap drink pungent as the sap running through the veins of these Greeks, witty and cynical as Aristophanes himself, in the shadow, unmoved, inviolate, of Athene’s Parthenon. (“The Chamois”)” 

― Daphne du Maurier, Echoes from the Macabre: Selected Stories

“What is the Greece of your dreams? Great beaches and lively bars? Beautiful scenery and picturesque towns? Archaeological treasures and a tasty meal in a local tavern?In Argolis you can have all this and more. Forget the overcrowded and touristy islands, less than a couple of hours drive from Athens, adventure awaits you. Argolis, a prefecture on the Peloponnese peninsula, is the real Greece, and Nafplio is one of the most elegant and romantic cities in the country – a perfect base for a holiday in a Greece that is even better than what you may imagine. Nafplio was the first capital of Greece, and beauty, culture, history and tradition characterize this wonderful city. By the way, this is not just a summer vacation destination. Unless you want a pure sun & beach holiday, your visit to Nafplio and Argolis could be just perfect all year round.”

The above statement is from the official website – but I did not feel that way about the city, myself.

True, there are three castles, one looming over the city, it is a picturesque bay and nigh perfect setting, but…..apart from the extensive Farmers’ Market,( held twice a week ) I could have been anywhere on the Med. or the Adriatic. Lots of restaurants  and bars, a few designer shops, in the old streets, however, I am always turned off by waiters touting for business and so I passed them by.  It’s no accident that Athens is referred to , as the prices here are Athenian! E.G. Three coffees and some cold water €11.50, whereas in the little village nearby ,where we are staying , it would be € 6.00. Not just about the prices , though. The place did not seem to have any purpose, other that to try to be the quintessential Greek town…..well, it was lost on me. Pearls before swine, possibly!

I was glad to board the bus back to Drepano, crowded as it was with other trippers, all going to Tolo, round the bay and another place to avoid

Drepano is a Small town in Assini in Argolida in the Peloponnese Region of Greece.

In a supermarket, the shopkeeper introduced herself, to me and shook hands, after she scolded me for selecting a bar of Feta, from the fridge ” is plastic!”, she cried and led me to the rear of the shop, where she opened a tin like chiller and cut me a wedge of Feta, from a block, even giving me a sliver to taste. Delicious. Then she pointed out the wine, from the Nemea region, Höme produced by her ” mother-father”…..€2.00 a litre…I bought a litre each of the red and the white; very drinkable. The wine in Greece has definitely improved in range and quality since my last stay .

When Hannah went to the same shop this morning, she was given the same welcome and came back with more wine and a bottle of their own Olive Oil.

Ther are no grand sights in Drepano, most of the accommodation is in the outskirts. But I enjoy sitting with my coffee, watching the bustle of farmers on tractors and the comings and goings of folk on a variety of ancient mopeds and scooters. Enough to make me want to get my crash helmet out.

I’m writing this as a thunderstorm is passing over the beach; 30 minutes rain and in no time at all, I expect it will be back to 90*.     Two more days here and then the return journey begins, northwards via Corinth and Patras, back up to Igoumenitsa, for the SuperFast Ferry,on Monday. Driving here was a learning experience, except for motorways, the signage is as poor, as it is infrequent and Satnavs seem to struggle. I found that by using Viamichelin, before each stage of the journey,I could note main junctions and route numbers and place them on both the atlas and the so called ” upto date”  map, I bought, not long before we set off; even that did not have entire sections of newly built motorway, though. On the plus side, potholes apart, the driving has been exhilarating at times, especially over the mountains and compared to the rest of Europe, uncrowded.

Hopefully, the return trip will be as enjoyable and picturesque.

Looking up from the ruined domestic buildings of the lower city, you can see the active Monastery of Pantanassa further up the mountain in the the Upper City of Mystras, Greece. It’s truly amazing to find a city that retains its character from one specific age. The abandoned Byzantine city of Mystras in the mountains just above Sparta in the Southern Peloponnese, is one such frozen city. You can walk through the ruined streets and largely intact religious buildings of this UNESCO World Heritage Site and be right back in 1350 AD.

Mystras castle and city walls. Mystras is built on the side of a mountain topped with a sturdy and imposing Castle. Parts of the city walls are still visible.

Mystras began in 1249 with the construction of the Castle on the summit of Mt. Taygetos by the Frankish ruler William II Villehardounin. The Byzantine city grew as it consolidated local power through the 13th and 14th century. The walled city contained several religious communities and churches, domestic and commercial areas and a large palace for the regional lord. After the fall of Constantinople, Mystras was absorbed into the Turkish empire in 1460 and was then traded several more times between the Venetians, Turks and Greeks. The city remained inhabited until the 1826 when it was abandoned for the more accessible, modern city of Sparta.

Partial view from the path to the Upper city of Mystras Lower City and the Metropolis (or cathedral) begun in the 13th century.

Below the Castle on Mt. Taygetos, the ruins of Mystras are divided into an Upper City and Lower City. The churches are Byzantine in design but constructed with a mix of stone blocks, stone pieces and brick enhancing the rustic look of the ruined city. The architecture is quite sophisticated; the Metropolis (cathedral) is three stories tall with upper viewing galleries. The churches have elegant domes, arches and are all unique in design.


Several of the churches and monasteries still contain brightly painted frescoes. The most impressive paintings are in the Hodegetria showing detailed scenes from the Life of Christ throughout the side aisles. Some interior marble paneling survives suggesting the church was richly decorated when constructed.

 Mystras is an exhausting day trip but well worth the effort. You will be walking and climbing  a lot to see the entire city! I could have done with my walking poles.

 In addition to the impressive painted churches, there are numerous small churches and manor houses in the Lower Town . Lastly the views of Sparta and the valley from the Castle are incredible.

Bound for Sparta from Pylos. A journey only made practicable by the relatively newly built A 7 and A 71 motorways. Driving in  Greece you experience a variety of road conditions, rarely crowded if somewhatpoorly signposted. Arriving in Sparta, the signs to  Mystras, where the Campsite ” Castle View” is situated disappeared and I was obliged to make a U turn at a dead end . Fortunately, a kindly local just happened to be about to set off for Mystras and helpfully suggested we follow him ; to the Campsite entrance. Similar helpfulness was given to us at the end of the visit to  Sparta, when, with a bag of heavy shopping, we stopped at a cafe to ring for a taxi . The waitress immediately enquired if she could ring…taxi arrived within five minutes and she politely , but flatly refused a tip.

There are precious few remains of Ancient Sparta and they lie to the North of the ” new” city which was refounded   after Greek Independence, on the orders of King Otto, who thought that as Athens was to be rebuilt, to reflect its former self, so too should Sparta. There is not much to see apart from the Acropolis site and the Ampitheatre. But it was worth the walk, just to enjoy the setting, with the amazing mountainous backdrop.

Sparta was a warrior society in ancient Greece that reached the height of its power after defeating rival city-state Athens in the Peloponnesian War (431-404 B.C.). Spartan culture was centered on loyalty to the state and military service. At age 7, Spartan boys entered a rigorous state-sponsored education, military training and socialization program. Known as the Agoge, the system emphasized duty, discipline and endurance. Although Spartan women were not active in the military, they were educated and enjoyed more status and freedom than other Greek women. Because Spartan men were professional soldiers, all manual labor was done by a slave class, the Helots. Despite their military prowess, the Spartans’ dominance was short-lived: In 371 B.C., they were defeated by Thebes at the Battle of Leuctra, and their empire went into a long period of decline.

Sparta, also known as Lacedaemon, was an ancient Greek city-state located primarily in the present-day region of southern Greece called Laconia. The population of Sparta consisted of three main groups: the Spartans, or Spartiates, who were full citizens; the Helots, or serfs/slaves; and the Perioeci, who were neither slaves nor citizens. The Perioeci, whose name means “dwellers-around,” worked as craftsmen and traders, and built weapons for the Spartans.
All healthy male Spartan citizens participated in the compulsory state-sponsored education system, the Agoge, which emphasized obedience, endurance, courage and self-control. Spartan men devoted their lives to military service, and lived communally well into adulthood. A Spartan was taught that loyalty to the state came before everything else, including one’s family.

The Helots, whose name means “captives,” were fellow Greeks, originally from Laconia and Messenia, who had been conquered by the Spartans and turned into slaves. The Spartans’ way of life would not have been possible without the Helots, who handled all the day-to-day tasks and unskilled labor required to keep society functioning: They were farmers, domestic servants, nurses and military attendants.

Spartans, who were outnumbered by the Helots, often treated them brutally and oppressively in an effort to prevent uprisings. Spartans would humiliate the Helots by doing such things as forcing them to get debilitatingly drunk on wine and then make fools of themselves in public. (This practice was also intended to demonstrate to young people how an adult Spartan should never act, as self-control was a prized trait.) Methods of mistreatment could be far more extreme: Spartans were allowed to kill Helots for being too smart or too fit, among other reasons.

THE SPARTAN MILITARY 
Unlike such Greek city-states as Athens, a center for the arts, learning and philosophy, Sparta was centered on a warrior culture. Male Spartan citizens were allowed only one occupation: solider. Indoctrination into this lifestyle began early. Spartan boys started their military training at age 7, when they left home and entered the Agoge. The boys lived communally under austere conditions. They were subjected to continual physical, competitions (which could involve violence), given meager rations and expected to become skilled at stealing food, among other survival skills.

Sounds like the sort of regimen the  New Zealand All Blacks might adopt…

The teenage boys who demonstrated the most leadership potential were selected for participation in the Crypteia, which acted as a secret police force whose primary goal was to terrorize the general Helot population and murder those who were troublemakers. At age 20, Spartan males became full-time soldiers, and remained on active duty until age 60.

The Spartans’ constant military drilling and discipline made them skilled at the ancient Greek style of fighting in a phalanx formation. In the phalanx, the army worked as a unit in a close, deep formation, and made coordinated mass maneuvers. No one soldier was considered superior to another. Going into battle, a Spartan soldier, or hoplite, wore a large bronze helmet, breastplate and ankle guards, and carried a round shield made of bronze and wood, a long spear and sword. Spartan warriors were also known for their long hair and red cloaks.

SPARTAN WOMEN AND MARRIAGE 
“Because we are also the only ones who give birth to men.” 

Spartan women had a reputation for being independent-minded, and enjoyed more freedoms and power than their counterparts throughout ancient Greece. While they played no role in the military, female Spartans often received a formal education, although separate from boys and not at boarding schools. In part to attract mates, females engaged in athletic competitions, including javelin-throwing and wrestling, and also sang and danced competitively. As adults, Spartan women were allowed to own and manage property. Additionally, they were typically unencumbered by domestic responsibilities such as cooking, cleaning and making clothing, tasks which were handled by the helots.

Marriage was important to Spartans, as the state put pressure on people to have male children who would grow up to become citizen-warriors, and replace those who died in battle. Men who delayed marriage were publically shamed, while those who fathered multiple sons could be rewarded.

In preparation for marriage, Spartan women had their heads shaved; they kept their hair short after they wed. Married couples typically lived apart, as men under 30 were required to continue residing in communal barracks. In order to see their wives during this time, husbands had to sneak away at night.

The other part of the visit to Sparta was to visit this Museum. 

Museum of the Olive and Greek Olive Oil in Sparta . Stylishly designed and air- conditioned, this was an informative and carefully designed setting, giving both an oversight of  not just the symbolic value of Olives and Olive Trees to Greek history and nationhood, but also their place in its economic life and history. Olive presses were in evidence ….

And I was particularly taken by this Mural of a canvas attached to Olive Tree Wood.

Although, now over shadowed by its near neighbour, Mystras, Sparta was a worthwhile visit.

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Modern Pylos is located in the west end of Messenia, opposite a long island called Sphacteria, and the protected  coast of the natural harbor of Navarino Bay. This beautiful town was a short coach ride from the Campsite, over some narrow stretches and hairpin bends – glad I wasn’t driving! En route, was the incongruous sight / site,of a golf course, squeezed in – nobody playing – a total waste of space. It didn’t detract from the Town, though and coffee was enjoyed on the waterfront, after salivating over the best display of fruit and vegetables,on offer nearby, seen, this holiday.

Pylos is a prosperous region bearing a long history and remarkable cultural heritage. Having even been quoted in the Homeric poems, Pylos has all the credentials to be characterized as a “Eutopia” (εὖ- τόπος > good place). The warm Mediterranean sun and clear waters, the long history and stunning habitat make Pylos the centre of the northwest part of Messenia! Given the natural assets of this land, what more could anyone possibly ask for? The entire site of Navarino, from Egaleo Mountain, Korifasio and St. Nicholas to Sphacteria, is shielded by the abundance of light, the memories of the past, the olive trees and their the fruits along with the natural springs. 

Pylos is stepping on a thin line between the new tendency of the tourist industry, which is characterized by massive investments, like golf courses,and the preservation and safeguarding of the historical, cultural and natural heritage of the region, and the fact that none of the latter should ever be “sold out”. The municipality Pylos-Nestoras, the heart of western Messenia, manages to keep the balance in these tough times, allowing the region to progress and keep developing without losing its regional, historic and cultural identity. Much of the latter can be found in Neokastro Pylos Castle and its Archaeological Museum, together with the  Ephorate of underwater antiquities – a national body, dedicated to underwater archaeological exploration and safeguarding.

Apparently, of the best preserved castles of Greece is that of the New Navarino or Niokastro built during the Turkish occupation in 1573, to control the western coast of the Peloponnese.The name of the bay Navarino probably comes from the Avars who settled the region in 585-587 during the reign of Emperor Maurikius.In 1573 after the Naval Battle of Lepanto (1571) to secure more the natural port of pylos the Turks built a castle in the south entrance of the bay.

The Ephorate of Underwater Antquities contains some of the aretefacts rescued from shipwrecks, dating back centuries. It is of a modern design, with video sequences on show at the entrance. 

Their expressed belief is that most of the above ground history of Greece has been found and that any future, significant revelations will have to be rescued from the sea, lakes and rivers.

Bargain trip, really; €3.00 for the castle and both the museum and the Ephorate, plus €3.60 coach ride return to the Campsite entrance. The photo, below shows Pylos in the distance,from the Campsite shore.

Olympia Greece is the site of the ancient Olympic Games, which were celebrated every four years by the Greeks. Olympia is situated in a valley in Elis, in western Peloponnisos (Peloponnesus), through which runs the Alpheus River. It was not a town, but only a sanctuary with buildings associated with games and the worship of the gods. Olympia is a national shrine of the Greeks and contained many treasures of Greek art, such as temples, monuments, altars, theaters, statues, and votive offerings of brass and marble. The Altis, or sacred precinct, enclosed a level space about 200 m (about 660 ft) long by nearly 177 m (nearly 580 ft) broad. In this were the chief centres of religious worship, the votive buildings, and buildings associated with the administration of the games.

There is very little in the way if restoration; much of what is on view, was the result of archeological digs, in recent times. But the natural beauty of its  setting alone, enhances that awareness of being in a special place.

The French began excavations here in 1829. German explorations of 1875-81 threw much light upon the plans of the buildings; they were resumed in 1936, 1952, and 1960-61. Many valuable objects were discovered, the most important of which was a statue of Hermes, the messenger of the gods, by Praxiteles.

The most celebrated temple was the Temple of Zeus, dedicated to the father of the gods. In this temple was a statue of Zeus made of ivory and gold, the masterpiece of the Athenian sculptor Phidias. Next to the Temple of Zeus ranked the Heraeum, dedicated to Hera, the wife of Zeus. In this temple, probably the oldest Doric building known, stood the table on which were placed the garlands prepared for the victors in the games. The votive buildings included a row of 12 treasure houses and the Philippeum, a circular Ionic building dedicated by Philip II, king of Macedonia, to himself. Outside the Altis, to the east, were the Stadium and the Hippodrome, where the contests took place; on the west were the Palaestra, or wrestling school, and the Gymnasium, where all competitors were obliged to train for at least one month.

Being a sports fan, a dedicated watcher of the Olympic  Games, I got a real thrill walking through the archway the athletes took en route, to the stadium, where the “Start” and ” Finish ” lines of stones, are still intact.

The Museum of the history of the Ancient Games, was very informative – women were not allowed even to watch, let alone participate. Any discovered were thrown off the top of a nearby mountain. Athletes had to be ” pure” Greek and take a pledge not to cheat. There was a line of statues dedicated to Zeus, with the names of ” cheats” displayed.

But the biggest chest of all, was the emperor Nero, who rigged the chariot race, despite falling off his chariot.

Prizes originally were no richer than a crown of Olives, but as the Games grew in fame and popularity, there were rewards a plenty for victors –  plus la meme chose- freedom of the city, exemption from taxes.

There are still some beautiful mosaics, in place.

And one item, that did not have a helpful explanation board…Stil none the wiser.

The ” Truce” was respected for centuries – a unique aspect – can sport transcend politics?

Nobody sells the sports-as-diplomacy theme better than the Olympics, which aims “to build a peaceful and better world thanks to sport.” Most everything about the Games echoes these ideals: the interlocking Olympic rings that symbolize the coming together of the five continents, the determinedly harmonious atmosphere at Olympic village, and the very existence of the IOC’s Olympic Truce Foundation and its stated goal of finding “peaceful and diplomatic solutions to the conflicts around the world.”

The Olympic Truce is a tradition originating from Ancient Greece that dates back to 776 BC in the 8th century BC. A “truce” (Ancient Greek: ékécheiria, meaning “laying down of arms”) was announced before and during the Olympic Games to ensure the host city state (Elis) was not attacked and athletes and spectators could travel safely to the Games and peacefully return to their respective countries.

In 1998, the International Olympic Committee renewed this tradition by calling upon all nations to observe the Truce during the modern Games. The Truce was revived by United Nations Resolution 48/11 of 25 October 1993,as well by the United Nations Millennium Declaration relating to the world peace and security. 
A memorable day at Ancient Olympia – get there before the coachloads, at 08.00 .

The word Meteora means literally ‘hovering in the air’ and of course brings to mind the word meteor. What created this rare geological phenomenon is one of the mysteries of nature and there are many theories though they remain theories and none have been proven. But as amazing a marvel of nature as these giant rocks are, the buildings on the top of these ,seem just as miraculous and make Meteora one of the most spectacular places I have ever visited.

Serene, spiritual, magical, mystical, extraordinary, breathtaking, immense, inspiring, impressive. These are only some of the adjectives that come to mind, in an attempt to describe the Meteora phenomenon.

“It is a unique experience of nature’s grandeur in conjunction with history, architecture and man’s everlasting desire to connect with the Divine. From the early Christian times, the Meteora vertical cliffs were regarded as the perfect place to achieve absolute isolation, to discover peace and harmony and, thus, to support man’s eternal struggle for spiritual elevation.” Unquote.

Meteora is a truly inspiring and sensational setting of overwhelming rock formations and an exquisite landscape. It is a pilgrimage to a holy place for all Christians around the world. Meteora has become a preservation ark for the 2000-year-old Christian Orthodox creed.

The gigantic rocks of Meteora are perched above the town of Kalambaka, at a maximum height of 400 m (1200 ft). The most interesting summits are decorated with historical monasteries, included in the World Heritage List of Unesco. Only 6 of them have made it through the centuries, from an initial estimated number of 24. Mostly dating to the 14th and until the 16th century, these monasteries were built by monks who were previously hermits in the area, living in individual caves. Once united, these monks took months and years to carry the construction material to the top of rocks, using ropes, folding ladders, nets and baskets, and with much determination.

They then proceeded to build monasteries in awesome positions.The monasteries had no access to electricity and water until recently and the monks and nuns have been long trained in obtaining efficiency. 

For the purposes of brevity, this blog will focus on The Great Meteoro Monastery.

It was founded by Saint Athanasios the Meteorite who was the first founder of the monastery and the organizer of the systematic koenovion. For this reason, the foundation of this monastery is considered to be a turning point, or even better, the beginning of the organized monastisicm in Holy Meteora. Hosios Athanasios was born around 1302 in the medieval town of New Patras, today’s Hypati and his lay name was Andronikos.
The main cathedral in the central courtyard is embellished with beautiful 16th century frescoes. 

It is beautiful and amongst other sights, the Ossuary and Carpenters’ workshop astonish you…an obvious sense of place and history.

Tastefully kept gardens and balcony viewpoints are some of the other highlights, not to mention the bells, of which there are many.

The area of Meteora was originally settled by monks who lived in caves within the rocks during the 11th Century. But as the times became more unsure during an age of Turkish occupation, brigandry and lawlessness, they climbed higher and higher up the rock face until they were living on the inaccessable peaks where they were able to build by bringing material and people up with ladders and baskets and build the first monasteries. This was also how the monasteries were reached until the nineteen twenties and now there are roads, pathways and steps to the top. There are still examples of these baskets which are used for bringing up provisions. Back in the days when these baskets were the only way to get to the monasteries a nervous pilgrim asked his monk host if they ever replace the rope. “Of course we do” he replied.”Whenever it breaks”, which I am sure put the guy at ease. But now you don’t have to worry about ropes breaking since the monasteries are all connected by a series of pathworks and a winding road.
During the Turkish occupation it was the monasteries which kept alive the Hellenic culture and traditions and were not only relgious centres but academic and artistic as well. It is believed that were it not for the monasteries, Hellenic culture would have disappeared and modern Greece would be a reflection of the Ottoman empire with little knowledge of its roots and history. The monasteries attracted not only the deeply religious, but the philosophers, poets, painters and the deep thinkers of Greece. Today only six of the monasteries are active.

The Greek Orthodox Church is fiercely patriotic, this is really apparent in the Monastery museum, where, in a section displaying original lithographs and posters , the descriptions of battles against various foes, become somewhat jingoistic!
On a practical note, ” Meteora Tours”, offer 1/2 day trips for € 25.00, but we used the local bus, ( an air conditioned coach )which stopped outside the Campsite – € 3.20, return and €3.00 to visit any of the individual monasteries. Given the heat, a visit to 3 monasteries, in a day, would save the soul of any pilgrim! 

“Look through any window,

What do you see?”

The Hollies…

After the 1250 mile drive and  overnight ferry to Igoumenitsa, three days’ respite, here in Camping Valtos, has been ideal. Although it has a 100 space capacity, it is far from full and very peaceful, set in a mixture of Olive and Orange trees. Some of the Olive trees are 350 years plus.

Valtos has a 2 km long, mainly sandy beach. The promenade eventually take you up a steep hill, past the Castle, into better known Varga, with its old, shady lanes and countless shops, tabernas and cafes.

 Being almost mid- July, it is very busy, yet on a morning’s walkabout, never felt ” crowded”. This region, Epirus, has close proximity to the former Communist bloc and there were cars from Serbia, Romania, Hungary and Albania. There were one or two plates,I couldn’t place, as well. Everyone is very welcoming and this picturesque,seaside setting, on the Ionian Sea has been a time of tranquility, hot sun and memorable views.

I enjoyed my first bottle of Retsina, last night, even Hannah liked it, together with a fish BBQ – I think it was Hake, but whatever it was, it cooked beautifully, alongside grilled peppers and courgettes. Tonight, it’s ” locally sourced” kebabs and sausage

Tomorrow, Friday 14th July, we set off North Eastwards to the World Heritage  of Meteora. It might be Bastille Day, but we won’t be storming the Monasteries. Hopefully, we shall have the energy to make a respectful visit.

To Bari , Monday 10 th July. 
Earlier start than usual, as 525 km to Bari, with check in at the Ferry port by 16.30. Exited the Campsite at 07.30, following the Satnav, onwards, towards the A14.

But, what is this? A white van blocking the narrow road and a guy gesturing, turn left….Why? The Monday street market, of course. This threw the Tomtom into some confusion, not to mention us! This unexpected change of direction took us back to the Campsite. Try again, as the Satnav rerouted, only to lead us to the other end of the street market . Now what? 

Ask a local, in fact, ask two. Eventually, by going around the back of some flats on a narrow street, which was reserved for emergency services,we came to a proper road and that rare sight, signposts. So, early start, notwithstanding, access to the A14 was eventually gained, after getting stuck in the “Telepass” Lane, for another few minutes, until the barrier lifted and a ticket obtained, manually. It had to get better and it did.

The A14, which on Saturday, was a trial, became a joy… light traffic, enjoyable views of the sea and hills and no madness. The route went close to the Adriatic and went through Emilia Romagna, Marche and even after diminishing to a two lane highway, comfortably driveable. 
Principal crops of wheat ,fruit and vines, eventually changed to groves of Olives, as the winding bends took us towards Puglia, through numerous tunnels ( none longer than 1km ) and over brilliantly designed viaducts.

After a picnic lunch break, the outskirts of Bari were approaching and so now, the Snooper Satnav was programmed with the Port address , as given in the Superfast Ferry brochure. All seemed well, until ” you have reached your destination’ did not seem to be near anything with a name on it that might pertain to the ferry access. So, U-turn on the coastal road ( good lock on the Fiat ), looking for anything that might resemble the entrance to the Port.
Having found a gate, with large boats moored beyond, an enquiry was met with a shaken head and the advice to go 2km, further on and turn in, there.

 Now, looking for second gate, that might be a port entrance. Passing a gap, from which lorries were making an exit, another u- turn was called for. 

Fortuitous that enough time was allowed for that game called ” Find the Superfast Ferry in Bari.”

You need to bear in mind that having turned into this entrance, we found our first clue – a signpost, with “Greekferry” , a km later, there was another sign, just after the first gate through which we tried to enter the port. So, 4 km from there, a Superfast boat was espied and further progress was made towards it. A ramshackle collection of cars , motorhomes and lorries had been directed to ” park”, whilst booking in took place in a hall, 200 metres away. It was now 16.00, and the port hands, having taken note of the blue sign, with Igoumenitsa , displayed in the windscreen, along with ” camping on board”, shouted ” boarding at five o’ clock!”

It was around this time, that I began to ask myself why I hadn’t taken that Saga coach trip of the Lake District ! 

But no, after threading the bus between seemingly abandoned trailers, and after a further ticket check, embarkation took place.

This meant driving onto the motorhome deck and performing my third u- turn of the afternoon, before being assiduously directed by a crew-member, whose disgruntled , facial expression at having to align us, only brightened as he crossed himself twice! 

Electric hook-ups were pulled down from the ceiling and boarding was complete. There was relief at making it to the air-conditioned lounge, with its efficient and friendly waiters; a complete contrast to the hot, chaotic scenes on the quayside. The boat departed on time, 7.30 pm. Now, for the onboard buffet.

Although the car deck had windowless sections, it was still very warm. The portable fan came into its own, again. Waking early enough to enjoy the outlines of Corfu Island as we sailed into Igoumenitsa and take an early snap of the birthday girl.


 After the quickest disembarkation I have ever known, progress was soon being made along a two lane, county road towards Parga and Camping Voltos.

Breakfast was taken at Cafe Kaliss, en route, very friendly welcome, even at 7 am .We were joined by an interesting guest.

Entering the Campsite was made after driving very slowly along the narrow beachfront, still thankfully quiet at 8 am. Unlike campsites elsewhere, we were allowed, almost immediately to choose a pitch amongst giant, ancient Olive Trees…..Perfect. 

Pauses were taken on the walk up to the village and the remains of its castle, clinging on to the edge of a cliff, to enjoy the views.

The village was car free and signs for tabernas and rooms for rent were a plenty. It was still very quiet and time was taken to look at possible venues for meal, this evening, to celebrate Hannah’s 🎉 birthday.

Han enjoyed opening some of  her cards and presents, from Höme, after lunch, having spent her morning, on the beach – a very happy daughter!

“χαρούμενα γενέθλια”, as we say in Greece.

Aristotle Philoshoper of the 4th century BC “

Anybody can become angry – that is easy, but to be angry with the right person and to the right degree and at the right time and for the right purpose, and in the right way – that is not within everybody’s power and is not easy.” 

You would think that arranging a ferry from Dover, for an 02.00 departure, would be trouble free affair ; the M 1 would be quiet and also the dreaded M25. Leaving Wylde Green, shortly after 21.00 hours, gave the best part of 5 hours to make a journey that normally takes 3 1/2 hours. It was dry, too, which is always beneficial to night time driving. However, the M 1 was very busy and the M 25 seemed quieter , though, until 3 miles before the Dartford Crossing, when a sight, heartening back to the days when there were toll booths. …Flashing, warning signs.And so, at just before midnight, a slow crawl ensued. Eventually, a sign indicated that there was only once lane open, over the Queen Elizabeth Bridge. There were no workmen and save for one highways vehicle, no sign either of activity , nor obstruction.This made the final 62 miles, a dash, from there to Dover an imperative.

No sooner was the M 20 entered , when a warning sign indicated a closure of two exits! 

Panic? No, wending along Kentish country lanes , in the dark , via a stretch on the M 2, is really relaxing way to begin one’s holiday.

Happy ending? Yes, even the pointless speed restrictions, before Doveri, were not enough to prevent us from boarding the DFDS ferry,with 15 minutes to spare. A calm crossing and disembarkment ensured leaving Dunquerque by 05.30, local time, with the sun already rising in the East,towards which the journey lay.

By-passing Bruges and Ghent, the good progress made was halted, every now and then on Brussels Ring Road, by an unanticipated early rush hour.

A traditional breakfast of cold, grilled sausages and hard boiled eggs was enjoyed on a service area , well out of Brussels and after a quick in and out of the Netherlands,by passing Aachen entrance was gained, into Germany.

Recent journeys in and through Germany , had been fairly smooth and uneventful, except for one year, en route to the Czech Republic, when a deer leapt over a barrier, separating traffic from some roadworks and demolished my driver’s side mirror – not even the compensation of roadkill, as it was impossible to stop.
The Autobahns are very democratic , toll free motorways and usually make for high speed transition, from all parts of the country. Driving for the best part of two days, to the Austrian border, proved to be quite arduous, in places – HGVs,an unusual number of road works – an unrelated, but nevertheless annoying feature of the Service areas, was a ” toilet toll” of 0.5 Euro ! Given the cost of their coffee, this was rip off Ryanair would be proud of.
Unusually, today ,saw two minor confrontations with ” Jobsworths”. The first on a Belgian service station, where I had to park the ” Bus”across two places; not a problem, I thought, as there were a good number of empty spaces. As we were about to pull out, a BMW parked in the place, immediately in front of me, despite there being five empty spaces adjacent. The driver got out and I caught his eye. He then approached my open cab window and began to reproach me for parking where , presumably only BMW drivers were allowed. I didn’t dignify his remarks with a reply, but closed the cab window, automatically, nearly nipping his nose. Reminded me of that old joke:- ” What’s the difference between a BMW and a hedgehog? On a hedgehog, the pricks are on the outside”.

The next confrontation occurred at the entrance barrier to the German Campsite , where I was waiting for the entrance barrier to be raised. The Campsite didn’t permit entry between 1 – 3 pm. I was there five minutes before this siesta ended. A German camper approached and in very self righteous tones, complained that if an ambulance wanted get in, we would be in the way….Refusing provocation and the urge to tell him where to stick his bicycle pump, we explained that if that was to happen in the next five minutes, we should expect the barrier to be raised, allowing us to move through and out of the way……or, we could reverse. I name BREXSHIT for this uncustomary hassle, from our fellow Europeans.

The first night’s camping was a lakeside sight, near Bad Durkheim – a pretty place, bordering the lake and vineyards. There was an overnight thunderstorm, but by morning it had cleared and a fine day was again, in prospect. 600 Km, all told, today.

Friday 7 th , the second day of the trip, was spent exclusively on the Autobahns, by passing Ulm, Stuttgart; crossing both the Rhine and the Danube,within a couple of hours and then entering Austria, after buying a compulsory ” Flèche”, for € 8.00, to be displayed on the windscreen – a toll, which allows upto 10 days’ driving, on motorways.

The sight of the Mountajns, in the Austrian Tyrol, was quite momentous and it was not too long before the road changed to two, narrow lanes, with hairpin bends, as Innsbruck was approached – the destination for the day.

There were mountains, everywhere you looked from the Campsite pitch and the weather continued to be glorious . 380 km

For the second night running, there was a hefty thunderstorm and in the morning the landscape was dramatised by layers of clouds around the mountains. 


Saturday’s destination was the Adriatic Coast of Italy. The route wending through the Austrian Tyrol, over the Brenner Pass and by tunnel emerging in the Italian Dolomites, now a World Heritage area of unique beauty. Fruit growing was the main crop in the Trento region, together with vines, sometimes growing alongside the motorway ! This was along a motorway, for the most part, after driving up and around a few ” S ” bends. It was very busy, on both the North and Southbound carriageways, despite the lack of HGVs, it being the weekend. The route was via Verona, Bologna and on to the A14, Adriatic highway. All motorways in Italy are subject to a toll and we were prepared for this as we were for the inevitable deterioration in driving standards and inexplicable delays, where traffic came almost to a halt and then started up again, within seconds. This prolonged the journey across the rather featureless, flat lands of Emilia Romagna. It quietened down, South of Bologna, as a lot of the traffic had gone Eastwards. What was surprising, in the incidents of careless driving, was a coach driver changing lanes, at 65mph, without indicating . After lorry drivers, the ” Kings of the Road”, in my experience for safe driving,I ranked coach drivers, as the ” Princes” – not so here, though. There were several near misses, as Italian car drivers weaved across lanes – given the choice between a vanity mirror and and indicators, the former would always be chosen as the optional extra.

Just above Rimini, it was a relief to get off the motorway to take a quite 10 km or so, to the Camping Village Rubicone, on the Adriatic. This was to be a two night stay, allowing a day’s respite from driving. Initial impressions were that we had chosen a beautifully landscaped site, with exceptional facilities.

Great to be back to cooking on the BBQ , with an excellent range of meat, in the site supermarket, not to mention the local wines!

” Buona Salute”!