ensuitepilgrim's Blog

The only things I shan’t miss about Portugal are the cobblestones. Climbing up around Mount Ecla, on a smooth surface was a bonus. Made the mistake of not stopping for a coffee; it would be a good few kilometres before we reached Oia and the next bar. We had plenty of water, so despite the sunshine, it was fine and the Camino was very rewarding with its harbour, mountain &  sea views, plus good signage.

 Typical of the Galician countryside are the ” horreos”, which adorn most farms, small holdings and even some gardens. Some are decorated, too. It’s unusual to get a look inside, though and to see how the sweetcorn is stored, mainly for animal feed.
Stopped for refreshment at Oia and a view of its Monastery. Plus some earlier signage.
Had an overnight stay near Nigran, never did quite find out where, exactly! Not a state of the art pool, friendly place, though.

Then an early start for Vigo; always a challenge to get in there on the Camino. Often through forests. Biggest city in Galicia, in a haphazard expansion, to its high and low bases. We still stopped to smell the flowers…

A few other photos signifying the Camino and an impromptu dance, when we came upon a village fiesta – How could I refuse a lady? Mac, took the photos and declined the opportunity – never danced with my boots on before!

” Encantada”…..” Encantado” Try saying that with your sunglasses in your mouth!

https://youtu.be/_b-kzi5PEqs – no competition – Galician Folk Dancing

We followed the yellow fleches as far as a bus stop, by coincidence, the exactly same one, that I came to, four years ago. There was no debate…on to the number 17 and a € 1.40 ride into the centre….a bargain and a life saver! Getting into Vigo is not for the faint hearted, but once you are there, it’s a lively, friendly place, waterside development, hills and fine squares.

This morning, we walked steadily up Via Principe, to a famous, modern church, Our Lady of the Picos, from where we could pick up the yellow arrows to guide us out of Vigo and on to Redondela. This is what the church would have looked like, before it was covered in scaffolding, as it was, today. The Picos are a famous mountain range in Northern Spain.

We followed a ridgeway  along the Camino, The Senda da Augua ,that had been developed for walkers and cyclists. It’s important to carry plenty of water as there are no cafes/ bars, for 10 KM. There are occasional Fuentes .It has a good surface and there are extensive views of The Vigo Ria, with its mussel and oyster beds and an impressive bridge.

On reaching Redondela, after 17 KM, we passed several, more trendy places to have a beer and bocadillo at Bar Central, where the warm welcome and value for money belt its humble frontage. We met up with the couple of German ladies, we shared the motor boat with, across the river . They were having problems, trying to get a bus to Pontevedra, Saturday service, etc; So we asked a local policeman if he could help. Just opposite is a the Albergue, in a restored 16th Century building, where I had the misfortune to spend a night, four years ago. I’m not the ” Ensuite Pilgrim” for nothing…

Redondela is famous for its railway viaducts, built in the 19 th century, to transport goods and Albergue apart, it’s an interesting place to wander around; it’s also where the interior, Portuguese Camino meets our Portuguese de la Costa.

It was an additional 5 KM to our hotel, Santo Apostolo, on the Ria; with a couple of high ascents and decent. Some pelegrinos take a taxi….we didn’t…but I can ow see why you might! There was an impromptu Shell Shrine at the top. I think it is to commemorate the death by accident, of a pilgrim cyclist. There were a lot of  weekend  warriors on the trail, today. 

This is our hotel, the owner and the bar, where I am writing this, despite an awful Spanish “soap”, on the TV.

Menu Pelegrino tonight – hopefully something fishy.

We heard that one of our ” group “,R, from Ireland has had to go to hospital in Santiago, by car, as his leg has swollen mysteriously and needs an expert diagnosis. Such a shame , we only met a couple of times, but we got along well and he came from a teaching background ; same sense of humour and left field views. We have sent our best wishes, via our leader. Hopefully, we’ll be able to catch up with him in S de C. Mac is in contact , by phone,with some of the group, though we have not seen them, for a couple of days. My feet have been great; pride of place to the boots!

Four day ago, I made the decision to send in my rucksack by a local carrier Tuitrans. I was experiencing shoulder ache and my right knee felt vulnerable, with the 10kg+ I was carrying; it was spoiling my enjoyment of the Camino. You have to listen to your body. I would arrange luggage transfer, for any future Caminos. It’s probably an age thing, too!

We had yet to meet up with all seven members of this loosely described group – we had been on the same flight with three members, C , D and his wife,T. As we had only been given the stages for each day, not the hotels, it would only be by coincidence that some of us stayed in the same place. The two other members had flown in from Ireland, R and a lady, B.It would be on the outskirts of a lovely little village, Fao, that we first encountered R, a lovely guy, with GSOH, by chance in a cafe, where we met up with D and T. C and B we occasionally walked with during one or two of the days. Of course, on any Camino, everyone walks at their own pace,so it was probably more essential, to develop a group dynamic, that evenings provided a chance to meet up. To date,a week on, this has happened once. I don’t know what the other ” members” felt about this – for me, it was inconsequential, I.e” Que Sera, Sera.”Mac, my regular walking compadre, found it frustrating at times. 
We had , as is the norm, met up with several other pelegrinos, from USA, Ireland and even Yorkshire,plus a group of three ladies, from Spain, who were both funny and friendly company.

Still, on with the Camino. 

Walking towards Esposende, provided more boardwalks alongside the sea, but one seemingly, never- ending slog through a forest of the ubiquitous, Eucalyptus trees. At the end of which, being slightly ahead of Mac, I found myself, inland, by the beautiful parish church of Apulia. I enquired of a couple, nearby, if there was a bar/ cafe nearby- no, they were some way off, back by the beach. In no time at all, from nowhere, they provided me with two ice cold bottles of water. After a faltering, but sympathetic conversation, in French, revived, I walked on…..the Camino provides.

On eventually arriving at the aforesaid village of Fao, Mac, myself, R and eventually T and D, met up in a very friendly bar, for lunchtime refreshments.

Walking through the village, we came upon an English phone box, standing incongruously, in a Plaza; its function was to provide the opportunity to get a ” Carimbou ” – a stamp – for our Pilgrim Passports.

I had stopped in this village before, on my solo Camino, four years ago, and was pleased to note nothing had developed to alter its charm; the Fire Station, still had its doors open and you could view its two , proudly preserved vintage engines. The Bombeiros in rural Portugal , are often manned by trained volunteers and they are usually a centre of social importance to the community.

Apulia Town, where Mac and I stayed overnight, is a slightly shambolic, seaside resort, but dignified by a magnificent beach.

Next day, took us to Viano de Castelo and the Camino took on a different character, being mainly inland, with some stiff hills and at times, precarious footing, where the path was strewn with stones, overlying, granite boulders. Walking poles, essential for any Camino, came into their own, here. This isolated spot shows a poetic celebration of an ancient Magnolia.

The approach to Viano is most appealing as you can see the Santuaria de Santa Luizia,on a hill above the city and its lengthy bridge across the Lima River, designed by Eiffel, of Parisian fame.

I had been on holiday in Viana,for a few days last summer, in the campervan and I was pleased to be back in such an interesting and attractive place. What made it even more desirable was our “digs” in a century old, architect restored house, overlooking the main square. The owner, proudly gave us a tour of the imaginatively decorated rooms and when he said some of the smaller features were from IKEA, we laughed and said we were sure he would be forgiven. Should mention that walks, so far, are averaging 20 km, per day.

The views over the river, with a glass of Cruzcampo, were made all the more atmospheric, with the moon rising over the scene.

Caminha was the next day’s destination and a short, two stop ride Northwards, on a local train of about 8 km, made the walk more manageable. Reducing it to 21 km. As in previous days, the weather was sunny, warm, with a breeze, at times. We walked through Villa Praia de Ancora, where we had some lunch; I was first here 35 years ago! Lovely little seaside resort .

Caminha has a main square which is always a focus for visitors, plus a white,sandy beach.

We were due to cross the estuary the following morning at 09.00. However, we were informed that because of a low tide, the first crosssin would not be unti 12.00. Our leader, C, found an alternative  means of crossing,striking a deal with a local fisherman. At just after 09.00, we were ready to embark ; our boat was slightly smaller than the tide bound ferry! Galicia was at hand.

Mac was slightly damp, but not his spirits, as we safely disembarked. Most astonishingly, the fisherman even had a stamp, for our Pilgrim Passports! Can you work out which it is?

The first morning’s departure was scheduled from Lavra, a long the Atlantic coast , from Matosinhos. Our” leader” had given us the name of a bar / restaurant , where we were to rendezvous with the other pelegrinos, in our group. Fiasco….Despite the best efforts of our taxi driver and a very helpful local, it was concluded that  no such place existed! So, Mac and I decided to walk towards our destination for that day, Povoa de Varzim, hoping that we might come across them st some point; after all, there was only one way you can go. We walked through a time warp fishing village and along boardwalks, constructed to protect the sand dunes. The weather was beautiful, the sea breezes refreshing and the o dan was a constant companion. We soon crossed a lovely iron bridge across a river , when Mac’s phone rang….

One of the group informed us that they had all managed to meet, despite the bar now having a complete makeover and new name….😡 This did not come as a complete surprise to us, after all, Nuff said. We continued apace and were impressed by the boardwalk extensions, so much further than when I walked this route, solo, four years ago. And it was not too long before we could see Povoa in the distance; a popular seaside resort, now, but it’s origins are steeped in both fishing and exploration.

There are reminders all along the way and I was really pleased to come upon St Andre, where I had enjoyed a much needed coffee and water, four years ago – it had grown from a small kiosk.

Further artistic representations informed us as we drew steadily near Povoa, which despite its ” seaside” image, had a pleasant, bustling atmosphere. The seafood was excellent, too.
Despite the Casinos and numerous restaurants, nearby,traditional harvesting was still being undertaken- seaweed for fertiliser, raked up into ” hay bales “. And a spot of weekend fishing on deserted beaches.
I must not forget to include Vial da Conde, which is an interesting town, en route. Lovely harbour and a place where you can divert to the ” internal” Portuguese Caminho. We came across an amazing World War II memorial and unchanged scenes on the Oceanside.

Another reminder of Vila da Conde’s ancient heritage is the resplendent aqueduct.

A lot to take in, I know, and I am having to write this up in Spain,latterly, as Portugal, for all its numerous wonderful features, is not great for WiFi ! Still does not stop it being , for me, the most civilised country, I have ever had the privilege of visiting.

Friday,18 th August, was spent as a guest of SPORTNATION?BET, one of the sponsors of the England Cricket team’s most famous group of supporters – The Barmy  Army. This came about at the invitation of a close friend of mine, whose son-in-law, is a leading light in that company. The programme for the day looked a little daunting, with hospitality taking place in the Tally Ho Banquting Centre, which is based in the police sports’ ground, five minutes from the stadium….beginning at 11 am! Bearing in mind that play,at  the test match, the second day of the first day-night test match to take place in England, did not commence until 2pm. The programme for the morning was as follows:-

This prestigious event will take place at the Tally Ho Conference and Banqueting Centre, just five minutes down the road from Edgbaston. Please bring a copy of this email with you on the day, as it will double up as an e-ticket. 

 The proposed running order for the morning is as follows:

11.00am Doors open at Tally Ho 

11.30am Comedian 

12.00pm Seated buffet brunch served 

12.30pm Awards ceremony 

1.15pm End of awards and warm up for matches

We’re really excited to welcome Monty Panesar to host this year’s awards, alongside Billy the Trumpeter. As we all know, Monty is a legend in his own right, and we’re looking forward to hearing his cricketing tales of old, and his hopes for a comeback to first class cricket. Pictured are my amigo, Mick and in his left, Warren, another director of SPORTNATION?BET. And, Monty Panesar, ex-England spinbowler, being interviewed by equally legendary , BarmyArmy member, Billy the Trumpeter.

 Your ticket will also give you access to the post-match entertainment back at the Tally Ho from 9pm, where we will have a live band The Everly Pregnant Brothers, an eight piece Ukulele band from Sheffield. Their previous hit ‘Chip Pan’ stormed up the charts last Christmas, and flung the boys into a new stardom. If you’d like to check them out visit their Facebook account @EverlyPregnantBrothers  

 The bar will close at midnight.

There was no possible way,that we would last the pace, till midnight, even though we were almost abstemious in the taking of refreshment! The Barmy Army’s members follow the England cricket team, all over the world; I last encountered them at Gracelands, Cape Town, when we went to watch England versus South Africa. Instantly recognisable, either by their T-shirts and/or singing . Our first taste of the singing , and there was to be a lot of it as the day went on, was prior to lunch, when we were asked to stand ( Thank Goodness , not God Save the Queen ) and sing ” Jerusalem,”as a form of Grace, accompanied by Billy the Trumpeter.

There was a raffle, a quiz and an interview with the aforesaid Mony Panesar, who also presented the “Awards”, which ranged from Joe Root, England captain,by video- link, that gives an idea of the Army’s standing, to best female cricketer of the year .

I got a close up of one of these prestigious awards, on our table, an uncanny resemblance to one of the seven dwarfs….?

After a very enjoyable lunch, we were given a brief taste of the highlight of the post- match entertainment – “The Everly Pregnant Brothers”- some of you may be of an age, where you recognise the ” play” on the ” Everly Brothers”, a wonderful duo of thecesrly sixties – the EPBs were far from wonderful, enthusiastic, yes, politically incorrect, yes, entertaining….no; that reinforced our avowed intention not to return for the evening bash!

Ominously, during the above, thankfully short Set, a thunderstorm rolled over the Tally Ho sports ground at about 12.36.

Years ago, this would have put the start of the match back by a couple of hours; not, today,though, the Warwickshire ground staff were well prepared and play began, promptly, with the majestic and imperturbable Alistaire  Cook looking for a double century and his greenhorn of a partner, Milan, looking for his first, international, half- century, both of which were achieved, quite comfortably against a somewhat tepid West Indian, fast bowling attack.

We were in Edgbaston’s famous Eric Hollies’ , Stand, Row E, with a great side -on   view of the wicket, surrounded by a good natured group of supporters, drinking beer in copious amounts, which only encouraged them to join in even more loudly, with Billy the Trumpeter, who was ( thanfully ), a few rows behind. The fancy dress was  a great part of the entertainment; the range was endless.

The weather forecast for the day had not beeen good, but play continued, without interruption until about 7.3o pm, under the flood lights, until heavy rain brought proceedings to a premature close. 
It had been a great day’ s sporting entertainment and although I had misgivings about the Barmy Army scenario, they were proved to be unfounded…their avowed intention is to support England, with song and cheer…was just that. Not for the faint hearted, possibly , and I won’t be joining any time soon, but an enjoyable experience, nevertheless.

This is the information about the walk, from SC Ramblers’ website

Walk Start TimePlease Note start time 08:30Walk directions2Drive to Lichfield and follow the ring road A51. At the roundabout take the A515 Ashbourne road. Drive through Ashbourne and continue north on the A515 Buxton road for 5 miles. Turn Left signposted to Millfield and Alstonefield and on reaching the valley bottom look out for the Right turn up the hill to Alstonefield. In the village the road turns Right and the car park is on the Left next to the toilets.Explorer Map OL24. Grid ref: 131 556

Walk The WalkA walk of about 9 miles from the pretty village of Alstonefield north of Ashbourne. From the car park we walk round the north side of Wetton Hill to Wetton Mill before heading up a pleasant valley past Sugar Loaf to Summer Hill Farm and so to the top of Ecton Hill with wonderful 360 degree views. We drop down to the Manifold Valley and traverse round the north side of Ecton before making our way east and south to Narrowdale and thence back to Alstonefield. With the earlier start we should be in time to drive back to the Garden Centre south of Ashbourne for a nice cup of tea and cake.

There is one fairly long and steady ascent before lunch and another upward gradient toward the end of the walk.

Well, there was more than one ascent! But a good reintroduction into ” serious” walking after two months; this picturesque scenery in and around the Manifold Valley, is only an hour’s drive from Sutton Coldfield. Sparsely populated, for instance, the pretty village of Alstonefield has only about 300 inhabitants and it was there we began our circular walk.
Relieved that we walked around this hill , into the Manifold Valley.
Coffee was taken in a picnic area, very popular with families, as you can splash and paddle, hereabouts; I resisted the temptation.

One of the joys, for me, of our Ramblers’ walks, apart from the obvious pleasures of the countryside, is the amount of our industrial / archaeological history that can be found. The  notice boards, at this now disused Copper mine, were as informative as the site was fascinating , on Ecton Hill.
There are a variety of ways people  can enjoy the countryside ; this isn’t one of them, for me.
There were some interesting dwellings, en route ; This house was intriguing.
A complete contrast to an abandoned farmhouse, we came across, slightly further on. It was a sad setting and I found it quite “spooky”.
This walk was almost ten miles and I realised that I have some training to put in – midweek walks – to regain my fitness for the Portuguese Coastal Camino, beginning in September 1st. An excellent day.

“The seven wise men of Greece, so famous for their wisdom all the world over, acquired all that fame, each of them, by a single sentence consisting of two or three words. ” Robert SouthSo, this has to be a short Blog, if not a wise one.

It seems strange to be sitting at home , on the first morning after returning, without the familiar prospect of opening the motorhome door to strong sunlight and the constant nattering of crickets. This journey took us through seven countries; the destination, Greece, being the most memorable. First, the people, almost invariably welcoming and good humoured. The only other two  nations about which I could make a similar generalisation, are Portugal and Jordan. On a practical level, motorhoming needs good roads and signage. The roads and motorways are much improved; the signage is dire. There are so many other good reasons to explore Greece. The food, the wines, especially from Nemea and of course the ancient sites and beautiful bays.

It’s not bargain basement when it comes to costs – no such thing as a cheap holiday – dining out, for example, is not much cheaper than here, although the settings more than compensate for that . Coming back, it was necessary to take a ferry, leaving Igoumenitsa at 00.30. The port arrangements were not quite as chaotic as Bari, but came a close second. Only drivers can take their vehicles through the port gate; passengers have to go through the check – in lounge and reunite on the quayside.

Driving through almost the entire length of Italy, I was struck by the recklessness of some of the driving, where indicating is non- existent and the seriously expensive cost of camping. The prices were beyond anything seen before and that is such a pity, because the Italians are great to be with, on holiday. You are pretty much bound to use the motorways for long journeys and they are all toll roads. As you approach the Alps, by way of the outskirts of Turin, you can be mesmerised by the enormity of the peaks and baffled as to how you will get through them , to France. The answer was quite sobering – € 58.80 to traverse through the Frejus tunnel – 8 miles long.

I have to confess that I experienced feelings of relief on entering France, from a driver’s point of view – orderliness and etiquette-after 800 miles of Italian and Greek roads , it was most welcome. Pont d’Ain was the evening’s destination and a final BBQ , on a typical, semi rural site.

Passing Bourgeois en Bresse, by motorway, to South of Lyon, we took to the N Roads to cross towards Soissons, through the ” Côte d’Or “, with so many Burgundian ” village fleuries” to admire. The final night was spent in Peronne, for the first time, English voices and as ever, many Dutch campers. Had a meal at a local Brasserie -Rabbit Pate to die for! I wished there had been time to spend a day exploring the town, for its World War associations and industrial archaeology. But, Calais called and after a stop at a cheap , wine warehouse,  the 11.35 P & O ferry, to Dover.

If I returned to Greece, so much more to discover, I think I would fly/drive, because there are so many places where it would not be possible to explore in a motorhome, bearing in mind what a mountainous country it is, not forgetting 1400 islands!

A return to France is on the cards – for all the obvious reasons – not the least of which, is its accessibility .

So, what are the immediate demands? A wedding to attend on Saturday, at Birmingham Council House – a posh do – have to wear a monkey suit, something I loathe- what is this thing about aping your betters? Quite a contrast to vest and shorts. Still, I am sure it will be a great occasion. Then, on Sunday , down to Berkhamsted for a birthday – guess whose? And four days’ house sitting . It will be a while,yet, before I get round to the garden and the allotment .

Then, I have the small matter of a Camino, beginning in Porto, 1st September; have to get some fitness back before then.

Hope everyone is having a good Summer, wherever you are.

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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