Greece at last, and a friendly welcome at the border

"Ah, spaniels," nodded the Greek border guard as he checked the inside of the van for extra occupants. "Good for mushrooms." Presumably for sniffing them out, rather than sautéing with them. 

It was the friendliest crossing yet, for all they took several minutes to check the documents for both us and Florence, looked inside, and then passed our papers on to the man at the second window. He was even more friendly. 

"Where are you going?" 

"The Peloponnese."

"That's a long way."

"We've come from Norway. We have a year."

"You're travelling around Europe for a year? Wow, I envy you. Greece is a beautiful country. Enjoy your trip!"

Watching the sun set over the Thracian Sea

We left the border with big grins on our faces, excited to be finally in Greece. Bulgaria and Romania have been lovely, but there is a familiarity and predictability about Greece which made us immediately more relaxed. And just to put the clotted cream on the cakey tea, we headed straight for the coast, fetching up in a small fishing port called Fanari on the far side of some lagoons. As we watched the sun going down over the Thracian Sea we breathed deep sighs. We'd made it across the mountains before the snow, 71 days and 3230 miles after leaving the Arctic Sea in Norway, and now we could slow right down, and look forward to three months exploring Greece. 

What a view to wake up to!

We'd set off that morning from high up on the Bulgarian side of the Rhodopi mountains. We'd followed the Park4Night directions off the main road, and quickly found ourselves on the far side of a tiny village. The directions suggested we should drive off the road up a track to the top of a mound, but we decided we would settle for pulling off the road onto sandy ground. It looked a pretty deserted kind of place, it was grey and misty, and it would soon be getting dark. 

It proved to be a surprisingly bustling mountain top, with cars passing frequently on their way home for the evening. Several gave us a friendly beep, one man stopped to make sure we hadn't broken down, and one car passed several times beeping enthusiastically. There was a young woman at the wheel, and so we came to the conclusion that she must have been called Florence, and was saluting her namesake.

Once rush hour was over, we had a quiet night, and woke to a spectacular view across the mountains in all directions. The pups enjoyed a leisurely walk in the warm sun, enlivened by encounters with cattle and sheep, and a small Muslim graveyard in a wood. The gate was firmly locked, but there was a ladder stile alongside. We wondered if it was to allow those who had been buried alive by accident to escape the confines of the cemetery. 

At last it was time to head for the border, making our customary stop to spend our remaining currency on wine in Lidl. Why always wine? It will always get drunk, eventually, and is usually priced in approximately whole units, (eg 7.99 Lev) so it's very easy to work out how much is in the trolley, and spend whatever notes we have in hand. On this occasion, however, someone misread the price of a bottle, and I had to count out the last few coins in my purse, only to realise I was 20 stotinki short. The cashier and I both realised at the same time that it was in the trolley, and she told me to return the trolley and pop back in with the released coin, approximately 10p. All this was achieved without any mutually comprehensible language, but we both knew what was going on, even if Nick looked a little mystified by the exchange. 

After crossing the border we found a good new road on the other side, which took

The pretty port of Fanari

us quickly down to the plains and out to the sea. As soon as we had parked up in Fanari we knew it was somewhere we could spend a couple of days, and we have done just that. After a game of ball on the beach yesterday we took the spaniels for a walk around the town, stopping for first a beer at a seaside café and then lunch at a small restaurant beside the port. There were only a couple of places open, as it is very much out of season, but a few people were enjoying coffee on the terrace, and a small group of men were eating at the restaurant. One of them had a daughter in Malmo who has a Springer, so of course we ended up having a chat. 

Today we had just a forty minute drive to Xanthi, along roads edged with fluffy white clouds of cotton which has escaped from the fields where it is cultivated - this area produces 85% of Europe's cotton harvest. We also saw storks and swans out on the lagoons, before turning back towards the mountains. 










Xanthi is a university town with a lovely old quarter made up of half timbered Ottoman houses built by tobacco merchants. It also has a busy new town, full of restaurants and cafés, and we were glad to stop for coffee and rest our feet after clambering up and down the hills of the old town admiring the architecture and the snatched views between the buildings. 

Nope, not bringing Florence here...

...or here!

Although we had found good parking alongside the university, we decided it would be noisy there at night, so we set off for a car park listed on Park4Night as being at a mountain bike track a few miles from Xanthi. We just about managed to defeat Google Maps' efforts to take us on shortcuts through the old town, and were soon heading back into the mountains towards Bulgaria. As we climbed we began to realise that the car park we were aiming for appeared to be at the top of a goat track about two mountains over, and the mist was rolling towards us. We have cut our losses, turned around, and parked up in a pull-in next to a water trough for the night. So far the only disturbance has been the call of the muezzin - we are just below one of Greece's Pomak villages, lived in for generations by Muslims, and this one has a mosque. Still quieter than carousing students! 

Should be quieter here than in Xanthi