Christmas Eve in a Greek campsite

There's been a definite change of pace in Florence this week. As Christmas approached we concentrated on our preparations, and making our way slowly to the campsite where we plan to spend at least the next week. It's been a time for cleaning up, stocking the fridge and  giving the spaniels chance to run free. It's also been rather wet down here in Southern Greece, so there have been a few days of staying in and putting our feet up.

Black honey, fabulous with Greek yoghurt

After making our way down through the mountains from Olympia, we had fetched up alongside a beach near Kalamata with a few other vans. We decided it was too good a spot to forsake for the centre of Kalamata, so we stayed a second night, doing our normal weekly shop in the local Lidl. No sooner had we returned than we were visited by a friendly couple in a pick-up selling local produce. We explained that we had just done our shopping, but were happy to look at their stock, and were delighted to part company with €13 for a large bottle of local wine, a huge jar of black honey, and a bag of proper Greek tomatoes - ones with an actual tomato taste. It's good to feel you are making a contribution to the local economy, and the honey in particular is fabulous.

There is always a queue at the post office

The next day we drove into Kalamata, followed by Gill and Barry, the British couple from Bulgaria, who were keen to find the car park we had searched out on Park4Night. We joined the queue at the post office, which stretched out across the pavement, only to discover that our hoped for parcels were yet to arrive. Fortunately there were three Christmas cards to cheer us up. Next it was off to Sklabenitis, the Greek equivalent of Waitrose, where we were planning to shop for our Christmas food and drink. Their range was a little wider than Lidl, and we were able to find some of the more unusual ingredients needed for our planned meals, as well as some nice Greek wine.

It was already mid-afternoon, but we wanted to make some progress towards Finikounta, where we are spending Christmas, so we drove across the peninsula to Pylos, a busy harbour town with ample motorhome parking in its sprawling boatyard. Three huge Dutch motorhomes were there before us, all over 8m long, but we tucked up alongside them, feeling like a size four trainer in a drag queen's shoe closet. 

Boats in all stages of decay

The next morning we took a stroll around the town, walking along the harbour, around the huge castle walls, through the buzzing town square and back through the boat yard, where among the rotting carcasses were some sprightly veterans and seasoned travellers, one from Cowes, another from London. We stopped to watch a crane carefully lowering a smart yacht with a newly scraped and painted bottom back into the water. 

We were both keen to get to our Christmas stopover, and nervous that it would be a disappointment, but there was only one way to find out. We set off on the half hour journey to Camping Finikes, half expecting to find it deserted, and to have to find our own way in. But as soon as we pulled up we were greeted by a friendly couple, who directed us to choose a pitch, and then find Rod, a British man who would show us around. We parked up on the front row, looking straight across shallow dunes to the sea, and then made the acquaintance of Rod, one of the long-term residents who also serves as the agent for the owners over the winter. 

The spaniels are happy

We felt immediately at home. We had a great pitch, with a good view, water, electricity and shelter. The site was occupied, but with only four other vans we were hardly crowded. And best of all, a gate just in front of us leads straight out onto the beach, where the spaniels can run free and there is hardly anyone else around. We have spent a couple of days cleaning, putting up our handful of Christmas decorations, and doing some general maintenance. We've chatted to the neighbours, a German couple in a huge truck in which they have travelled from Patagonia to Alaska, and had Rod in for tea and a Greek mince pie. There is an excellent small supermarket ten minutes walk away, and a pretty village a little further which we have yet to fully explore. It's a good place to spend Christmas, and we are looking forward to some time standing still after five months on the move. 

Flowers still bloom here

The weather is mixed...

A village to explore

Corporal punishment for athletes, mountain villages and lots of cats

I should say, here and now, I am not a big fan of athletics. This means that, unlike my better half, who has broadcast from two of the Games, I have never really got the Olympics. I did once come up with a proposed slogan, "Three Weeks of Drug-fuelled Minority Sports", but, in fairness, that only applies to the Russians. However on our second morning in Olympia we visited the museum dedicated to the original Olympic Games, and I found it fascinating. Without boring you with a lot of statistics, those early games ran successfully for more than 1100 years and only came to a halt because the Roman emperor Theodosius I banned them in 393 AD as part of his move to impose Christianity on the Greeks. All those naked athletes running around and dedicating their victories to Zeus, was far too pagan for the early Christians.

An Olympic mosaic

The museum held many of the artefacts found when Olympia was excavated, but it also had interesting information as to how the games were organised and the sports that took place. These early games were entirely a male affair, women were not permitted to be spectators but any male, whether citizen or foreigner, freeman or slave, was entitled to free entry to the stadium. Many of the events like running, discus and javelin, are still part of the modern Games. However, I really would really like to see chariot racing return and I was much taken with the description of Pankration, a cross between boxing and wrestling with a bit of kicking involved. We did learn that eye gouging was not permitted, unless, of course, you were in Sparta. 

A bit of Pierre lies here

One other thing that would spice up the modern Games for me would be the return of corporal punishment for athletes who cheated. I feel a few public floggings would make the field events so much more interesting. After leaving the exhibition we collected the spaniels and made the fifteen minute walk to where there is a monument to Pierre de Coubertin, the founder of the modern Olympic Games. His heart is buried beneath the stone pillar, the rest of him remained in Switzerland, where he died in 1937.

From Olympia we travelled East, finding a nice quiet spot by a river for an overnight where we were disturbed only by the odd tractor going past. The next morning we began the long winding ascent into the mountains. We were now in Arcadia, once home of Pan, who has been my favourite Greek mythological figure ever since I read The Wind in the Willows. 

Not somewhere to live if you have vertigo

After a series of hairpin bends we started going through mountain villages, with buildings clinging impossibly to the sides of sheer drops. Most of them are classed as 'traditional settlements' and are protected by law from unsuitable development. They are hugely popular with Greeks who flock to them in the summer to escape the scorching temperatures on the plains. While the mountain road was fairly easy, as long as you avoided looking down, it narrowed considerably as it passed through the protected buildings in the villages. At one stage I had to back several hundred yards for a Greek lorry driver, who had swung round a bend in font of me, his mobile phone jammed against his ear.

Dimitsana

We decided to stop in the village of Dimitsana because we found a) a place where we could park Florence and b) a water tap. It is typical of these villages with steep winding streets, beautiful old buildings and narrow alleyways. We had decided not to take the spaniels with us and it was just as well as we were joined by a small collection of cats as we ambled through. Instead we were able to look in the shops, climb up to an old church on the edge of a precipice, and watch locals sitting out in the warm sunshine enjoying coffee and ouzo.

Elsa would have gone berserk

Neri took over for the last leg of the trip where we had planned to spend the night at the village of Karytania. True to form the approach to the small parking area in the centre meant a climb up a steep road with acute hairpin bends but it was well worth it as we found ourselves on a small paved area with a view that went on for miles. While many catering establishments are closed in Greece in December, we found a small bar just down the road where we received an enthusiastic welcome from the multi lingual owner, and enjoyed a couple of glasses of fresh local white wine while listening to a group of locals chatting about their day. When I went to pay the bill I received an enthusiastic hug from the lady behind the bar which, as far as I can remember, has never happened in my local pub. 

The valley from the castle

The next morning we looked down on a valley full of cloud, which quickly burned off as the heat from the sun got to work. We made the steep climb to the ruins of a small 13th century castle perched high above the village where we were rewarded by stunning views. The castle had been built in the time of the Frankish rule in that part of Greece. Karytania disappeared from the gaze of historians until 1821 when the inhabitants were among the first to rise up against the occupying Ottoman Empire. Busts of their leaders are dotted around the village, one of them, somewhat disconcertingly, gazing directly at Florence's door every time we left the van.

Not a lot left of the old castle

After leaving the village, to the enthusiastic waving of the bar lady who was sitting out in the sun, we headed for Megalopolis. Today it's a small town whose livelihood depends, in part, on two huge power stations but in ancient times it was one of the biggest settlements in the region. It was believed by the historian Herodotus, (not always reliable), to be the site of the series of battles that saw the Gods finally overthrow the Titans. It was certainly the scene of later battles, not least when the Spartans invaded. All that remains today is a series of stones scattered over the fields and the remains of a giant tiered theatre that seated 20,000 people. Most of the site is closed off but we wandered in to look at the theatre. The place was deserted and the ticket office at the entrance was locked up. However, we found an old Portaloo, possibly abandoned by the Spartans, in which we could empty our toilet cassette. 

We took the decision to drive straight to Kalamata rather than linger in the mountains. There

'All the world's a stage'. The theatre at Megalopolis

 will be a couple of months after Christmas to explore the Peloponnese and we need to get some shopping done and collect the post we have arranged to be sent to us, assuming it has found its way through the Greek mail system. Tonight finds us back by the sea, alongside a beach that seems to go on for miles. We took the spaniels for a walk along the sand and allowed Max to enjoy his love of swimming. There were two other motorhomes when we arrived, one German and one with Bulgarian plates. However, we were surprised to discover that the latter vehicle was owned by British ex pats, he was born in Eccles, who were living in Bulgaria. As dusk fell another French and a German motorhome arrived so we are quite an international community tonight.  

Old church in Dimitsana

Morning in Karytania

The home of the Olympics, a massive castle and 2500 year old technology

In the summer when I had just turned seven, my mother woke me up at night to come and watch the opening ceremony of the 1976 Montreal Olympics on our new colour television, bought for the occasion. From then on I would spend the entire fortnight of each Olympiad glued to the screen. Two highlights of my career with the BBC are covering the 2012 Olympics in London from inside the park, and going to Rio to work on the 2016 games. Arriving in Ancient Olympia, the home of the games, and the place where the torch is still lit every four years, had me in a state of great excitement.

Arkoudi - clearly more of a summer place 

We had taken several days to cover the short distance to Olympia from the ferry crossing to Patras. We don't need to be in Kalamata to pick up our post until Friday, and wanted to wait for the forecast storms to clear. Our first stop was the pretty resort of Arkoudi. A wander around the shuttered up streets revealed there was almost no one in occupation, apart from an American woman feeding the many cats, and a German couple with a motorhome, but staying with an old friend. After a short chat we headed to the beach to see how much sand Elsa could collect in her coat playing ball. The answer appeared to be most of the beach, so we were grateful for the external shower point we'd had fitted.

The next morning we moved to nearby Kastro to explore Castle Chlemoutsi, the vast Frankish crusader fortress built in 1220. It's the biggest of its kind in the Peloponnese, and the walls are still largely intact. The throne room was huge and must have been daunting for visitors, the small museum had been beautifully curated, and the list of former owners included some familiar names from the Angevin dynasty, before it was taken over by the Ottomans. We were only slightly embarrassed that our arrival meant that the stewards sheltering in the ticket office had to grab umbrellas and rush to take their places inside the castle. Fortunately two other visitors arrived while we were there.

A castle built to last

We have seen a lot of rainbows though

As we returned to Florence the cloudbursts were getting heavier. It was time to move on to Katakolo, where we planned to sleep in the harbour car park. We did spend the night there, but I can't say we slept much. The rain turned into a full-scale thunderstorm. Lightning lit up the moored yachts, the thunder roared over the mountains above, and rain pelted the roof. Elsa was briefly given the very rare treat of getting onto the bed, as the thunder was making her hair stand on end. Max was curled up tight in his den. After four or five separate storms had passed through there was a brief respite in the early hours, and then the wind blew up as dawn approached. We both ran through scenarios in our heads about how to escape if the van blew over, and decided we'd be well looked after by locals, if we could only manage to escape the wreckage. We've been in stronger winds once, on top of cliffs in northern Spain, but the punching power of these gusts had Florence rocking on her suspension. 

Unsurprisingly we slept in. When we at last emerged the rain had eased. We went for a walk around the port, spotting a yacht with a familiar name: Christina O. Only one of the most famous yachts in the world, a former Canadian destroyer converted by Aristotle Onassis into a luxury yacht which was to host everyone from JFK to Elizabeth Taylor. She's now for sale, but you can charter her for half a million dollars a week - off-season. 

The Christina O in port

3rd century BCE robot

We left the spaniels to sleep off a late breakfast as we headed over to the grandly named Museum of Ancient Greek Technology. We always try to find unusual collections, like the Museum of Devils in Kaunas, or the Museum of Nativity Scenes in Evora, in Portugal. This was one of the best. A lifetime's work by an enthusiastic engineer and amateur archaeologist, had generated reconstructions of technology used in Ancient Greece. It included time-keeping, water collection, cranes, ships, long distance messaging, siege engines, water fountains, and jugs which could pour either wine or water depending on your grip. There was an early alarm clock, and an automaton which would refill your wine goblet. The devices used levers, pulleys, water pressure, partial vacuums, steam and, above all, ingenuity. One inventor was so close to developing steam devices that would generate motive force, that, had the Romans not intervened, there would have been steam engines more than 2000 years ago. We were given a demonstration of a water pump for fire-fighting almost identical to those used in London in the 1850s. And not only was the technology mind-boggling, but the reconstructions were works of art. Our minds were full of what-ifs and might-have-beens as we made the short drive to Olympia, where we spent the night in an open-air theatre on the outskirts.

How the temples were built

We threw back the curtains the next morning to sunshine and blue skies, and quickly drove down to the town where we found a river to walk along with the spaniels. Then it was straight over to the museum and the archaeological site. Delphi had been impressive, but the top deity there was Apollo. One of the dodecatheon - the top twelve gods - certainly, but Olympia was dedicated to Zeus. No-one was higher in the pecking order than Zeus, and Olympia makes that clear. 

The return of blue skies

The Eastern pediment

The temple to Zeus is vast, the pillars are three times the size of most, and once housed one of the seven wonders of the ancient world - the statue of Zeus at Olympia. This 13m high piece of ivory and gold was made by Pheidias, famous for the statue of Athena at the Acropolis. It was later moved to Constantinople where it was destroyed by fire in about 400 CE after surviving for 800 years. What has been found are the two scenes from the pediments, now in the museum. They are so large, so animated and so perfectly rendered that they brought a lump to my throat. I have seen nothing yet to match them, not even the Elgin marbles come close.

Detail from the Western pediment

The Western pediment

The excavations at Olympia cover a wide area, and we wandered around, stopping at the Temple of Hera where the Olympic flame is lit, and the stadium, where the ancient games were held. Sadly we saw a couple of stray dogs at the site being rounded up by dog-catchers. They were handled kindly, but with so many stray dogs in Greece it's hard to be optimistic about their future. The young man who ran the restaurant where we stopped for lunch with Max and Elsa seemed surprised they were picking up the dogs, and kept a close eye on the two "attached" to their restaurant. They may be strays, but they would obviously be missed.

Site of the Olympic Games - 2500 years ago

A warm day, and a relaxing lunch left us little inclined to squeeze in a visit to the museum of the Olympic Games before 3pm closing, so we have returned to the open air theatre for the night and will go back to Olympia tomorrow. 

Where they light the flame

A famous Spanish author, Neri has a screw loose and the loading of a Greek ferry

On 7th October 1571 the fleet of the Holy League defeated the naval forces of the Ottoman Empire close to the town of Lepanto, now known as Nafpaktos. It is a notable event in naval history because it was the last major sea battle to be fought using vessels powered by oars. It was at the time, the biggest naval battle in history with more than 400 ships, essentially floating platforms for infantry, engaged in the struggle. The victory ended the expansion of the Ottoman Empire and established Europe as a Christian continent. One of the constituent bodies of the Holy League was Spain and one of the soldiers involved was Miguel de Cervantes. Thus we found ourselves in the harbour of Nafpaktos, admiring the 16th century defences and gazing at a statue of the author of Don Quixote with an inscription in both Greek and Spanish

Cervantes celebrated in Greece

Our journey back to the coast had started more than three thousand feet higher in a large parking area just outside the town of Arachova, which clings almost impossibly above a deep valley in the shadow of Mount Parnassus. A track led from the parking spot back to the town so we took the pups through a maze of narrow back streets complete with the normal quota of cats which had Elsa in a state of excitement. Just above Arachova is a ski resort, although it's difficult to imagine snow on these mountains when the temperatures are in their mid teens and the sun is shining. It is also strange for us to be wandering past shops in t-shirts and seeing Christmas decorations. 

No danger of forgetting where we were

Difficult to imagine they ski here too

With the Festive Season approaching it was time to move on and we drove down a series of sharp hairpin bends back to Itea before setting off along the coastal E65 road towards the crossing of the Gulf of Corinth to Patras. We had been told of a water point in the small town of Galaxidi but the streets were so narrow we abandoned the search and went back to a filling station we had passed a couple of kilometres back. The lovely attendant was more than happy to allow us to fill with water, although we were slightly embarrassed that we were already topped up with diesel so couldn't buy any there. A short drive along the road took us to a tiny cove at the end of a very steep winding road. We spent the night by the beach with not a sound apart from the lapping of waves and the return of some fishermen in their

A cove of our own

boats. 

We have been spending a lot of time by the sea

The next morning saw a turn in the weather with grey skies. By the time we played ball with the spaniels and got back on the road to Nafpaktos it was raining. On arrival our first port of call was Lidl for the weekly shop before we found a spot close to the beach. By now it was pouring down so we decided to take the pups for a quick walk along the foreshore. Along the way we passed a crumbling water park, yet another example of a large investment in tourism which has been hit by Greece's economic problems. On our return to the van we decided to do a bit of cleaning. It's amazing how much dirt eight small paws can bring in. That night the rain lashed down but there is something rather comforting being in a small plastic box, listening to the rain hitting the roof outside.

The sad ruins of a water park

The Venetians were a dab hand at defences

By the next morning the weather had cleared and we set off in bright sunshine for a walk around the old harbour. Like many places in Greece Nafpaktos has had a number of rulers including the Athenians, Romans, Byzantine empire, Angevins, Catalans, Venetians and the Ottomans. The latter hung on to it until Greek independence in 1829. The port features old defences built by the Venetians and the town features some very upmarket shops. Neri was having a problem with a loose screw in her sunglasses so popped into an opticians. The lovely lady not only replaced the screw but spent a bit of time adjusting the frame. No
charge. We are loving Greece.

An arch with a view

We wondered if, like England, they needed a licence to crenelate

It is now possible to cross the Gulf of Corinth on a magnificent bridge but we avoided it for both aesthetic and economic reasons and took the ferry. Aesthetic because you can't see the bridge properly if you drive over it and economic because the bridge toll is twice the ferry fare. We have used a lot of ferries on this trip and the drill is much the same. You arrive to a barrage of signs sending you into a designated marked lane. When it is time to board, people in yellow jackets guide you on to the boat and ensure you are perfectly positioned. Not in Greece. 

The ferry was loading from a wide quay with no indication of whether we could board or not and no white lines. A man beckoned us on then lost interest while a second man waved us languidly into a space between two lorries, before he wandered off. Then a third man, the ticket collector, decided to move us somewhere else. When we were finally stationary he came to collect the fare. On learning we were from England he asked which football team we supported. When Neri said Manchester United he began reciting a list of names which meant nothing to me but my wife, who is an aficionado of the round ball game, identified it as a Man Utd team from the 80s. They both got very excited about someone called Frank Stapleton for some reason. 

The far side was just as much fun. The ferry arrived at the quay but the skipper discovered he couldn't get the ramp down far enough so we started travelling sideways. By this time the cars around us were already moving despite the fact we were still not docked When we were finally connected to the quay I began easing Florence carefully down the steep ramp while, around me, the locals were flying off in all directions, much like the Red Arrows bomb burst. We made our way around the edge of Patras to a laundrette in the south of the city where we had the luxury of being able to park outside. Tonight finds us once more on the coast for our first sleep in the Pelloponese, the area of Greece where we will be spending much of the next couple of months. 

Delphi, the centre of the world

When Zeus wanted to find the centre of the world he apparently released two eagles from the eastern and western extremities, and they crossed at Delphi, from then on known as the navel of the earth. We know it best as the site of the oracle which gave largely unhelpful answers to questions posed by visitors seeking wisdom. I overheard a tour guide giving the example that when someone asked if an expected child would be a boy or a girl, the answer came: "Girl no boy." So was that "Girl, no. Boy." Or "Girl, no boy"?

We had set off before breakfast from our overnight stop at the harbour in Itea on the Gulf of Corinth, less than half an hour from Delphi. The site sprawls up a steep Southwestern slope of Mount Parnassus, and what little parking exists is alongside the winding main road. We knew it would not be easy to find a space, and we pulled into the last available gap in front of the museum at 9.10am. Perhaps we need not have been so concerned, as everyone else ignored the yellow lines and parked by the side of the road, but it was good to know we could relax, have some breakfast, and take the spaniels to explore the town.

The car park in Delphi - nearly all of it

The theatre and Temple of Apollo

After a mooch around the almost parallel streets, linked by regular flights of steps, we left Max and Elsa to snooze and headed for the archaeological site. The centre of Ancient Delphi was the temple of Apollo, in which a sequence of women priestesses entered a trance, after breathing the mysterious vapour coming through the rocks, and made their prophecies, which were then interpreted by priests. The temple was approached by a winding path, and over the centuries other temples and treasuries had been built to store the valuable offerings to the Gods, and to ask for intercession. Remnants of these line the way as you climb up to the Temple of Apollo, now just a few pillars, but clearly showing the vast scale of the structure. Above the temple is a theatre, and higher again is the stadium where the Pythion games were held, a four yearly event second only to the Olympics in scale and importance.

The rock of the Sybil, first podium of the oracle

The Temple of Apollo is at least the third to be built on the site, and dates only back to the 4th century BCE. The original was at least 400 years older. The site of Delphi was revered and recognised by successive regimes, even some of the Roman emperors valued and restored it. But it fell into disuse in about 200 CE. That means that for a thousand years it was a place of great cultural significance, growing, evolving, being destroyed and rebuilt. We struggled to think of anywhere comparable. 

Elsa does like a good view

It was a sunny 18º in Delphi, so we sat on a terrace overlooking the valley below and had lunch and a cold beer. Max made friends with a little boy from a neighbouring table, while Elsa enjoyed the view south towards Itea, where we had spent the night. Then it was back to the van for them so we could pop into the museum to see some of the more remarkable finds: friezes, statues and bronze artefacts. A short drive higher into the mountains brought us to our overnight stop in Arachova, a mountain town where the streets were teeming with visitors on this sunny Sunday, but somehow we safely negotiated the crowds and parked up in a popular viewpoint.

Beer, sun, view...

Memorial at Thermopylae

The weather has certainly taken a turn for the better since we left Meteora. Our first night was spent near Lamia on a mountain road leading only to a monastery, and we were able to take the spaniels for a walk along a road almost unused by traffic in bright sunshine and light jumpers. We stopped in Lamia for dog food and other supplies, and then took a short detour to visit the site of the battle of Thermopylae. Google supplied us with the details of the encounter between the Persians and troops from assorted Greek city states in 480 BCE.  Our memories from childhood of a valiant last stand by 300 Spartans defending a narrow pass proved a little wide of the mark, but it is still a good tale, and the 300 Spartans, with assistance from many others, did hold the Persians long enough for the bulk of the army to retreat. We admired the memorial, dipped our hands in the warm water of the nearby springs, and then decided to bypass the museum and the available overnight parking and move on. 

Another terrible place to spend the night

WWI cemetery in Bralos

It proved to be a good decision, as we found a beautiful spot beside a viewpoint on another mountain road to spend an undisturbed night. The next morning we took our time driving along the beautiful E65 as it winds south through the mountains to the Gulf of Corinth. 

Along the E65

We stopped to visit a British Military Cemetery, tended by an enthusiastic caretaker in a Commonwealth War Graves Commission sweatshirt who showed us the 1934 printed booklet listing all those who were buried in Greece. He had no English at all, and our conversation began along the lines of "Bang, bang," (negative body language) "Grippe!" from which I eventually deduced that they had died from flu. Closer inspection of the booklet confirmed that most of those in the cemetery at Bralos had died near or after the end of the First World War from flu, or in some cases malaria, at a military hospital nearby. Having paid our respects at the cemetery, we arrive in Itea early enough for a walk along the sea front in warm sunshine, and a little dip for the spaniels. A cheap and cheerful meal at a nearby grill preceded an early night in preparation for the day in Delphi.

The seafront at Itea

What Elsa saw

Arachova, tonight's view

Inside the museum at Delphi