October has already arrived, The grove is already shaking itself off...
Well, in these parts, everything is still pleasantly green. Just yesterday, leaving the chalet near Delphi, where we stayed for a couple of nights, I noticed red leaves on the mountain spurs.
And here comes autumn.
The map suggests that we stop in the small town of Metsovo and see the beautiful square. Later, it occurred to me that a square in the mountains was a rare occurrence. Everywhere we passed, there were only narrow, uneven roads with cramped parking lots. Everything was cramped and cramped. Any more or less level patch of land was always designated for a church or monastery. And here, an entire square! It was filled with small shops, coffee shops, and restaurants. We bought cheese and baklava and decided to have a cup of coffee in a restaurant entwined with grape vines and picturesquely decorated with flower pots. It took a while for our coffee to arrive, probably hoping we'd get hungry and order something else. I noticed that many retired men in pressed trousers were sitting on the benches around the square, in pairs and alone. Some were drinking coffee, some were playing chess, some were simply watching the world go by. It's not a day off, it seems... Why are there no women? Or is it not customary for older women to sit around here and do nothing? A men's get-together?
I still have time to take a photo of the sculpture of a Greek shepherd in the small park opposite when they bring us coffee. It's becoming a great tradition to drink coffee in a beautiful place. Incidentally, coffee in Greece is good everywhere. In big cities and small villages, they make excellent coffee! We drink our cappuccino, looking at the mountains, and move on.
Our next stop is Ioannia. We reach it through numerous highway tunnels and switchbacks. This town by a large lake is best viewed from above, which is exactly what we did, stopping on the side of the road. Here, I once again experienced cognitive dissonance with my surroundings. The view from the mountain was beautiful: far below, an ancient city with white houses against the blue water, and an island rising closer to the left bank. But the vantage point where we stopped was littered to the point of disgrace. Down, quickly!
Ioannia is a large administrative center. It's very convenient to remember the geographical names—Lake Ioannia, Ioannia Fortress. There are, of course, more authentic names for them, but these are more commonly used. From the mountain, we could see how densely populated the lake's shores are. But we don't plan to linger here long; we'll just visit the fortress, stroll along the embankment, and have lunch. The fortress, unlike many others we visited during our trip, is inhabited. That is, its territory is not designated as a historical reserve, and, passing through the massive gates, we see that people still live here. Many houses have been restored, but retain their original façades. Quite a few are abandoned and dilapidated. We wander the narrow streets, occasionally stumbling upon a pile of rusty cannonballs, a citadel, or a wall with loopholes. There's a minaret and a Muslim cemetery.
There are no traces of the Byzantine Empire anywhere to be seen. Yet we assume there must be some. The Turks typically didn't build their own fortresses, but occupied and fortified existing ones.
Now let's have lunch and move on.
Even before the trip, Denis promised me a visit to one of the most picturesque serpentine roads in Greece. Mountain roads, for a lowlander like me, are awe-inspiring. They're both beautiful and dangerous. Denis didn't see it that way, but I imagined we'd be plunging into a deep gorge any moment now. Thank goodness, this didn't happen, and by the end of our trip to Greece, I was getting used to the steep climbs and descents. We were driving along a picturesque serpentine road, but Denis couldn't fully appreciate all this beauty because he was so focused on the road. And I, though I managed to keep an eye on everything, had to beg my husband for the umpteenth time to slow down on the turn. Finally, we reached our destination. It was called Mikro Papingko.
