Author: Natasha Novak

Mikro Papingo. Vikos Gorge.

Our stay in the mountain villages, in Denis's and my shared opinion, left one of the most vivid impressions.

Here you won't find large, expensive hotels, noisy entertainment venues, or loud music. The cobbled streets climb steeply, sometimes up, sometimes down. The garden plots descend in terraces over several levels, clinging to the mountain slopes. In our understanding, in a village everything is made of wood, but here it’s the opposite, everything is made of stone, although there is no shortage of trees. Even the roofs, unlike those of coastal villages, are covered in gray slate. But the village doesn't appear gloomy from the abundance of stone. On the contrary, it's located in such a beautiful spot that the natural surroundings seem to frame the stone streets and houses beautifully. Or is it the other way around? Three peaks loom directly above the village. This is the first thing you notice when you approach the village. In the evening light, they glow pink like strawberry ice cream. In fact, in these parts, wherever you look, there are mountains. Near and far, you can gaze at them endlessly. The overall picture is further enhanced by the fact that each house has a small garden, vegetable patch, and flower garden. We thought there were no vineyards in the mountains, but we were wrong. Grape vines spread freely along the stonework, crossing from one side of the narrow street to the other, creating a shady passage. In one of them, the scent of grapes was so strong that we couldn't help but slow our pace to inhale deeply and absorb the sweet aroma of the berries. In another such grape tunnel, we nibbled on a berry or two, knowing they weren't ours, but unable to resist the temptation. 

We pull into a parking lot on the outskirts of the village. That's it, we can't drive any further because the streets are too narrow. We set out on a light "reconnaissance mission" and find our hotel in a maze of streets. They offer a special service: the owner rides an ATV down to the parking lot and delivers our suitcases to our room.

 The inn has retained distinctive elements of its rustic interior. Everything exudes a sense of solidity and simplicity. We see massive, iron-bound entrance doors, a roughly constructed but very large bed, two fireplaces with cast-iron dampers, and wooden shutters on the windows. The hotel has a large dining room where you'll be served a hearty breakfast. This room is decorated with traditional Greek embroidery, local shepherds' clothing, and fine wooden furniture. The courtyard is particularly charming. It's enclosed on two sides by the hotel building and outbuildings, while the other half is a small terrace with a couple of tables and a stunning view of the mountains. The courtyard is partly covered with grape vines and flowers, partly with clotheslines, where, incidentally, some guests' rather expensive hiking clothes hang, and a pair of equally expensive boots rest on a stone press.

 The hotel's exterior further confirms our suspicions about the kind of people who enjoy staying here. People come here seeking solitude, an idyllic, unhurried pastime. They love to wander the trails all day, and later, in the evening, sit on the terrace in the small restaurant, eating delicious food, washing it down with wine, and watching the sunset over the mountains. We recognize ourselves in them.

After checking into the hotel, we leave our things and go for a walk around the area. We can't go far, because it's getting late and a blue shadow has already settled down in the gorge below. But up above, the sun is still out, and there's time to stroll through the village streets. It's very small, with no infrastructure: no school, no hospital, no post office, not even a store. There's just a small church, a few hotels similar to ours, and two or three restaurants. At the end of our walk, we were rewarded with a sunset, the kind you only get in the mountains. Now it's time to return to the hotel, so as not to get lost in the dark among the narrow streets. Especially since we need to prepare everything for tomorrow's journey.

As darkness fell in our room, we suddenly felt the distinct feeling of October in the mountains and began to feel a little chilly. After a fruitless search for the heating control panel, we decided to take a quick hot shower, drink some herbal tea we'd picked on our walk, and crawl under the blankets. Oddly enough, despite two real fireplaces and two layers of blankets, it wasn't even remotely warm. We had to put on sweaters and pants, as there were no warm pajamas.

 The day before, we'd agreed with our hosts that we needed an early breakfast the next morning and that they'd take us to the exit point into the Vicos Gorge. I'd seen that name before... Where? Oh, right! On the label of a water bottle. So that's where they get that water.

The hostess feeds us such a breakfast that even half of it is more than enough for me. But we absolutely need to eat to have the strength for the day's journey through the Vikos Gorge. That's our plan for today.

October 2

When you're driving along the most picturesque serpentine road with a local, it's not so scary. The driving style of Jorge, the innkeeper, is practiced and honed over the years. He accelerates smoothly on flat roads and brakes gently on curves. And there are so many of them here! Jorge steers with feigned nonchalance, one-handed, while simultaneously checking something on his phone. But for some reason, you really wish our driver would hold the wheel with both hands and keep his eyes on the road, not his phone.

In response to our nervous reaction, Jorge puts down his phone and we start a conversation about the peculiarities of life in a Greek mountain village. 

• Do you like your Toyota? By the way, we also have a Toyota.
• Yes, the Toyota is a good car. It handles great in the mountains. My business was picking up, so I bought it.
• Do many people come?
• Yes, during the “dry season” many tourists come, especially from Europe. 
• And the Greeks?
• Locals come in winter and spring because prices are much lower.  

So we drive for about fifty minutes to the start of the trail.

The weather is great! While it was quite chilly early in the morning, it became quite comfortable around nine o'clock.

There is no one else on the trail except us. The walking is easy because our route runs along a dry spring bed in a deep gorge. Only the occasional large boulders and slippery pebbles are encountered. The rocks on both sides and the trees along the spring bed provide pleasant shade. I constantly want to stop and capture the beauty around us. We travel light. Our small backpack contains only two bottles of water and a snack for lunch. A little later, we move our jackets in, which are getting hot. Some time later, we encounter a group of elderly Frenchmen. We greet them with a friendly "bonjour" and easily overtake them. A cross-country runner, in turn, easily and casually overtakes us. Everyone has their own speed. And another man we meet isn't going anywhere at all. He's sitting on a rock, writing something by hand in a paper notebook. I can't resist asking:

• Kalimera! What are you writing, if it's not a secret? 

The wanderer looks up from his work and readily replies:

• I write travelogues! And I recommend you do too! You'll find them interesting to reread in twenty years. 
• "We already are!" we answer almost in chorus. 

It turns out that this man is a native of Wales. 

• "Where are you from?" he asks curiously. "From America? Your accent... Oh, you're originally from Russia?! What do you think about the war between Russia and Ukraine?"

The talkative Englishman literally bombards us with questions about international issues, drawing us into a discussion. 

The devil made me start a conversation! How chatty the English can be sometimes! Denis is ready to continue the conversation, but I literally drag him further down the path.

• "This is such a peaceful place, let's not talk about war," I say to the Englishman. "Besides, we need to move on.".
• "What do you think of Putin's policies?" he shouts after her. 

But we no longer “hear” the question, we wave goodbye and quickly leave.

 Well, really, this is the most inappropriate place for a conversation about political topics. 

We move on and at some point the trail turns sharply upward. There are open, treeless areas with rocky scree. We traverse a narrow trail. It's crucial not to trip or slide down the steep slope. This section was short, but perhaps the most difficult. Moreover, the sun was blazing, and there was nowhere to hide. Our efforts were rewarded with a beautiful view of the gorge and the nearby cliffs, like fingers jutting from the earth's crust. At the top, we decided to rest, have lunch, and check how much further we had to go. It turned out we'd covered most of the way quite briskly, and there were no more than an hour and a half left to go. Again, we shouldn't skimp on water, as there would be streams along the way. 

We traveled the rest of the way without any major adventures, enjoying yet another dose of beautiful scenery. Only at the end of the journey, on the outskirts of our village, did we stop at a spring to drink and take home a full bottle of delicious water.

In the end, we completed the fifteen-kilometer route through rough terrain in six hours. Not a bad result! The owner even applauded us and said, "Bravo.". 

Now it's time to take a break for an hour, have some tea, and then head to the neighboring village. We're really not that keen on going, we're tired after all, but there are a couple of stimuli that compel us to pull ourselves together and head to Megalo Papingko. We're going to withdraw cash to pay the owner for the morning ride and also to get some well-deserved ice cream, as there's no ATM or ice cream parlor in our village. We could, of course, drive our own car, but that's not our style. 

We hadn't done much walking that day, just seventeen kilometers through mountains and valleys, so after ice cream we went to see the large village of Megalo Papingko. Although it's larger, the overall "abandonment" of the houses is more striking. There are restaurants and cafes, but they're all empty. This is probably because the "wealthy foreign tourist" season is ending. The streets are almost deserted. One thing amazes me: no matter how small or large a Greek town, there's always a well-kept church/bell tower/monastery with an old plane tree nearby. Most often, this is a very ancient religious building and the tree is the same age as it. 

We return to our village at sunset. We're already craving something more substantial than just ice cream. We sit on the restaurant terrace, have dinner, and watch the sunset over the mountains.

There's a famous Latin proverb: "You can watch three things forever: fire burning, water flowing, and other people working." I'd change the last one to "the sun setting in the mountains.". 

A gray kitten sitting on a stone fence is seeing off the sun. Or rather, he's seeing off the lamb as it disappears into our mouths. He looks at us in a way that makes the piece stick in your throat, making you want to share it right away. Then, as if by magic, the kittens double in number. Oh, no, guys, there won't be enough for everyone; we've earned this dinner honestly. First come, first served.

It's getting chilly; it's October after all. I need to get to bed early and leave tomorrow at eight in the morning, because rain is forecast. And the most picturesque serpentine road automatically turns into the most dangerous if you're not a native of these parts.

We leave the Greek mountain village of Mikro Papingo on a gloomy morning on October 3rd. A few minutes after leaving, it becomes clear that Denis and I are thinking about the same thing: it would be nice to come back here again.

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Athens  

October 15

Every journey comes to an end. How many unforgettable, vivid impressions we gained from visiting various corners of Greece! The final chord of our trip was a visit to Athens.

The ferry arrived from Crete early in the morning. From the port in Piraeus, we took the metro to Athens and, after dropping our suitcases at the hotel, set out to explore the city. We had purchased combination tickets, which allowed us to visit not only the Acropolis but also other interesting sites: the Roman Forum, Hadrian's Library, and the Agora Archaeological Site.

Buying these tickets saves a lot of time, money, and stress. Our attempt to get to the Acropolis early was unsuccessful, as we had a fixed time slot. Oh well, we'll go somewhere else. 

We take pictures of Athens in the morning light from a hill near the Acropolis, then head down to visit the ruins of the library and the Roman Forum, and have breakfast at a cafe.

Then came a long, hot day filled with people, sunshine and a variety of historical information.  

Yes, yes, we've visited everything we planned. After all, this is our last day in Greece, after all, the tickets have already been bought, after all, we need to load ourselves up with antiquity to the brim, otherwise, when else will such an opportunity present itself?.

And we arrive at the Acropolis at the appointed time, where by ten in the morning such huge crowds of tourists have gathered that you simply wonder where so many admirers of Ancient Hellas come from.

 The Parthenon is impressive! Even more astonishing is the fact that it was rebuilt (and continues to be rebuilt) from "ruins of ruins." By this, I mean that this temple has been vandalized repeatedly. It has been destroyed and rebuilt again.

At various times, it was transformed into a Christian church, a harem, a mosque, and even a gunpowder store. This was its final end. During the Ottoman-Venetian wars, the Parthenon was bombarded with cannonballs, and one cannonball struck the gunpowder store.

Soon after Greece gained independence, restoration work began on the temple, but an earthquake struck and everything was destroyed again. Serious restoration work only began in the late 19th century.

Then on to the Agora. It's quite a large archaeological complex. There's no point in describing everything you can see there. 

In those ancient times, Northern Europe still lived in dugouts or, at best, in huts, but the Greeks already surrounded themselves with beauty on such a scale that one is amazed at how high the level of ancient Greek civilization was.

We're tired after a long walk around Athens' iconic sites, but we also have plans to visit the Kerameikos neighborhood. It would also be nice to eat and relax.

On our way to the next archaeological site, we came across a nice restaurant with an ivy-covered veranda. This time, we didn't complain about the waiters' sluggishness. We just wanted to sit and relax in the shade. After our lamb ribs arrived, cats began to flock to our table. They had been scurrying among the diners before, but now they were clearly hinting that we should share. 

The Kerameikos quarter is an interesting place.

Initially, as you can imagine, potters lived there, and then the area was designated as a city cemetery. It was here, for example, that Pericles was buried. You can still see the dilapidated gates and the paved road where ritual processions took place. A large number of crypts, urns, and tombstones, as well as the Street of Tombs, make up the incomplete Athenian necropolis.

Guidebooks don't always mention that potters lived alongside the porni. Those accessible ones. Walking through the ancient ruins and gazing at the bas-reliefs, Denis kept exclaiming, "Where are the porni here?!"“ 

But only pious young women from wealthy families looked at us. We finally stopped by the small museum at the archaeological reserve and went back to the hotel to rest.

 But we can't relax for long; we need to see Aristotle's School. Half an hour later, we're already walking along a bustling street toward our destination. Unfortunately, the school turns out to be closed, despite the information on the website that had given us hope. However, on the way back to the hotel, we find ourselves in a city garden. Perhaps only in Greece can you find such a garden: with ancient marble columns, the ruins of a Roman villa and a mosaic-lined pool adjacent to it, fountains and sculptures, most likely genuine, ancient ones. I would have liked to wander there longer, but it's getting dark, and I need to return to the hotel.  

When it got dark, we climbed up to the hotel roof. From there, we had a wonderful view of the city lit up at night. In the center, beautifully illuminated, stood the Acropolis. In the yellow light of the spotlights, it looked like a giant sponge cake. And so we got a slice. Well, let's consider the plan accomplished.

The trip to Greece was a success.

The next morning we quickly pack our things, have our last Greek-style breakfast in the hotel cafeteria, and take the metro to the airport.

 There's a special luggage rack in the metro. We slid our suitcases under it. The train suddenly picked up speed. The woman in blue standing next to us suddenly said:

• Your suitcases are on their way.
• Oops! 
• They'll be back soon.

As the train picked up speed, our wheeled suitcases rolled away, but came back. 

We caught them and recorded them. Thank God, no one was hurt. I tell that woman:

• It seems you have more experience in moving with luggage. 

She smiles and nods.

Later, we met the same woman as we were boarding a plane to Copenhagen. We recognized each other and, like good acquaintances, smiled and nodded again. 

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October 1

                       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.

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29 сентября 

Когда-то, давным давно, это был богатый город, расположенный на склоне гор. По мне, так более неудобного места и придумать было нельзя. Но у древних греков  свои резоны. Горы надёжно защищали город от врагов. Были источники воды и более или менее ровные уступы, чтобы построить дома, храмы и даже театр со стадионом. А главное был оракул, который просуществовал около тысячи лет. Он и являлся основным источником доходов города. Пифии  впадали в экстаз под действием то-ли  листьев лавра, то-ли выхода галлюциногенных газов в маленькой камере при храме Аполлона, и несли нечто бессвязное. Далее — дело жрецов. Из отдельных слов они должны были составить правильное толкование. Порой оно зависело от количества и ценности даров, принесенных оракулу. Древние люди, и не только греки, не могли принять важное решение не посоветовавшись с оракулом, поэтому подношения текли рекой, город богател, процветал и даже возомнил себя пупом земли. Ему, пупу, кстати, есть  отдельный памятник. 

Итак, мы приехали в Дельфы. Здесь нас ждала приятная неожиданность: было воскресенье — всемирный день  музеев, вход бесплатный. Но сначала мы решили идти по тропе к пещере Зевса и Диониса. С территории археологического заповедника проход был закрыт, пришлось обходить через городские окраины. А тропа вела нас по южному склону горы Парнас. Кроме маленьких, колючих дубков, никакой растительности там не было, поэтому солнце жарило нас немилосердно.  У Дениса в который раз (такое уже было когда-то) начался  мандраж:  “А хватит ли нам воды?!”. Но вскоре мы дошли до ручья, обозначенного на карте, напились и пополнили запасы.

 Надо сказать, что Южная Греция — довольно засушливое место. Может в древности здесь и били ключи, но сейчас очень много безжизненных скалистых территорий на склонах гор, покрытых все теми же дубками и терновником, да ещё, пожалуй,  оливковыми рощами. Похоже, оливам много не надо. Они умудряются расти на самых скудных почвах. 

Дальше идти стало легче, не так круто в гору и больше тени. Прошли ферму с коровами и  заброшенную деревеньку. Здесь, возможно, ушла вода.  Мы предположили это, потому что в трёх, обозначенных на карте источниках, воды не оказалось. А потом пошел тенистый сосновый лес вдоль грунтовой дороги. Вот где приятно было идти! И только под конец опять начался крутой, и , к счастью, недолгий подъем. Вот и пещера. Здесь нас должны были бы встретить музы, нимфы и всяческие вакханки, но за давностью лет они, наверное, перевелись. Зато в пещере лежали приношения в виде винограда и бус. На полу была выложена  спираль из камней. В полумраке виднелись проходы. Но мы решили не идти далеко вглубь. Там не было освещения  и, к тому же, нужно было успеть в археологический заповедник и музей. 

Заповедник мы, отчасти, успели осмотреть, когда искали начало тропы. Нужно было поторапливаться — день клонился к вечеру. Обратно, несмотря на усталость, идти было легче. Крутые подъемы обратились крутыми спусками. 

Под вечер наплыв туристов в археологическом заповеднике схлынул, стало прохладнее и мы с бОльшим удовольствием провели время, бродя вверх и вниз по древнему городу. В вечернем свете на фоне гор руины выглядели просто восхитительно! Самые лучшие фотографии, несомненно, получаются на рассвете или на закате.

Затем  представилась возможность неспешно изучать экспонаты музея: хорошо сохранившуюся скульптуру, керамику, фрагменты барельефов и мозаик, предметы быта и культа. Наполненные духом античности по самое немогу, мы покидали музей одними из последних. Было решено не задерживаться в Дельфах, пока не стало совсем темно, нужно только прикупить продукты для ужина. На пути к нашему жилью еще одна горная деревня,  там мы и хотели остановиться, но никак не могли найти парковку. Около ресторанов тоже все занято. Так как  день был воскресный, люди, местные и приезжие, заполонили все пространство и решили отдохнуть как следует. Если вы не были в горных  греческих деревнях, то не знаете, как трудно найти выезд из узеньких каменных лабиринтов домов, построенных на крутых склонах. При неправильном телодвижении ты рискуешь заглохнуть, поцарапать рентованную машину или сверзиться вниз. Когда Денис выворачивал из узкого проулка, мне пришлось выйти из машины и корректировать направление:

• Чуть-чуть назад — стоп! Выворачивай колеса вправо. Теперь вперёд. Стоп! Тут угол. Сдай назад.Стоп! Ещё выверни! Качнись вперед. Стоп! Сейчас посмотрю, что там сбоку. Ага, проходим, поворачивай потихоньку.

Наконец, мы выехали из этого ада, решив пообедать где-нибудь в окрестностях нашего пансиона, но не учли того, что день был воскресный. Немногочисленные пункты общественного питания закрывались раньше, чем обычно. В трёх местах нас развернули на пороге, а больше идти было некуда. Уставшие, злые и голодные вернулись мы в наш деревенский домик. И тут вдруг вспомнили про еду из фриздраера ( напоминаю — это такой сушильно-морозильный агрегат) “ Ура! “ — воскликнули мы и быстренько сварганили себе ужин. 

Этот день оказался насыщенным событиями и впечатлениями, поэтому не мудрено, что после ужина почти сразу захотелось спать. Спать-спать! Завтра нам снова в путь, надо хорошенько выспаться.

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