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