Greece - Areopoli

We had almost finished loading the car, and Deena and the kids had gone back inside to check things one last time when Theofilos appeared from the back of the house and waved good morning to me.  He was wearing work clothes, and he had paint on his hands, so naturally I was curious about what he was painting on such a fine Grecian morning.  We ended up talking for the better part of an hour, and I got a glimpse into the life of a husband and dad who was not much different from me except for the whole living in a Mediterranean-paradise thing.  Theofilos moved to the United States when he was sixteen and lived and worked with family members in Pittsburgh until he was twenty-two and then made the decision to return to Greece.  He learned English easily and enjoyed living in America very much, but when he thought about getting married and raising a family, he realized that he wanted his children to grow up in his native land.  After spending the first half of their marriage just north of Athens, Theofilos and his wife made some decisions that changed the direction of their young family.  They were both working stressful jobs that required long hours, and finding childcare for their four children was a constant struggle.  Their lifestyle was taking a toll on their marriage, and they realized that scary, drastic change was needed in order to set things right.  I was spellbound listening to him speak, and I thought about the changes Deena and I faced thirteen years ago after my second heart episode.  We had a strong marriage, and we were surrounded by family and friends, but the pressure of the life we were living was making me sick, and I wanted to see my children grow up.  During an anniversary dinner that I’ll never forget, Deena and I committed to serious changes which we knew would result in making less money, but those decisions have yielded a life making every day count for the Lord and each other, and we’ve had years full of rich time together with no regrets.  

Theofilos and his wife sold everything in Athens, packed up their young family, and moved south to the upper Peloponnese of Greece and bought some land on the rocky hillsides of Nafplio, where there was nothing but olive and orange trees and an amazing view that kept the Mycenaeans hanging around for a millennium or two.  They took out a loan and began building two houses on the land while living with his brother, and with the help of family and the construction skills learned in the United States, Theofilos soon had a new home and a new life for his family.  His wife works a part time clerical job at the courthouse in town, and Theofilos manages his apartments while tending to his olive grove, and he enjoyes experimenting with different methods of olive oil production when he’s not painting and maintaining his properties.  Both he and his wife stop working mid-afternoon, and the rest of the day is spent focusing on their children and preparing supper which they’ve committed to enjoy together every day.  Theofilos took me around and showed me some of the work he had been doing lately on one of the apartments and asked my advice about color schemes and the type of paint he would need for his next project.  As we neared the end of our time together, he looked off toward the mountains and told me that he could have made a lot more money in Athens and maybe had more opportunities for his children.  Then he looked me in the eye and said, “But I don’t care about the money anymore.  My wife and I and are happy and healthy.  We made a life for ourselves in a beautiful place, and we had time for our children.”  Amen, brother.

While it was sad to leave another friend, I was freshly inspired as I loaded up the family in the Ibeza bound for the southern Peloponnese.  Our first destination was Sparta two hours away, but the purpose of the visit was mainly lunch and not history.  Twenty five hundred years ago, while the Athenians and Corinthians were busy philosophizing and building gleaming white temples, the Spartans prepared to defeat everyone in war, and they lived a life that was…well, Spartan.  One common thread we’ve seen in civilizations on this trip is that someone always wants to rule the world and ruin it for everyone else.  Some smart guy said that those who cannot remember the past are doomed to repeat it.  That’s a statement which sounds deep, and people enjoy its reiteration at parties, but I don’t think it’s true—the world knows a lot about history, but our doom seems to be the same in every generation.  

We drove on a major highway most of the way to Sparta, and other than a tanker truck or two, it was empty.  Every fifty kilometers or so, there was an efficient pull-off bathroom which Greek civil engineers designed in a moment of genius, and these relief stations are kept clean and smelling like baby powder.  While the highway was still situated mostly in the long valleys, the mountains got higher and closer with more prominent profiles, and groves of olive trees became more prevalent.  We rolled into Sparta where we discovered that the warrior mentality still exists, but instead of spears and shields, the natives now wield the automobile, and they’re determined to conquer every obstacle in their paths.  We quickly submitted to the superiority of the battle-minded Spartans and parked in front of the Museum of the Olive and Greek Olive Oil.   I ignored the eye-rolling and gnashing of teeth from the backseat.  An excellent lunch from a nearby cafe cured most of the attitude issues, and we enjoyed an hourlong tour of the museum and learned everything we needed to know about the incredible olive and its impact on this part of the world through which we now navigated.  Besides, it only cost three euro, and we needed a break from the road.

Museum of the Olive

The next hour of driving took us deeper into the mountains and the bends in the road became more frequent as we ascended the slopes.  The land on either side of the road was choked with olive groves and the thick gnarly trunks of the trees testified to the length of their years.  The small town of Areopoli was our destination, and the sun was rapidly setting as we hit the city limits.  We still had about thirty minutes of driving to do before reaching our isolated accommodations for the next few days, and we quickly found a grocery store and bought supplies before tackling the hills.  We had reservations in a stone house named Philothea built on the side of a mountain just beyond the hillside village of Drosopigi.  The owner emailed us specific directions from the main highway, but as the twisting road turned into a rocky path we began to doubt his accuracy, especially when we had to stop and let a large herd of goats pass in front of the car.  We finally pulled into the small, stone-paved square in the village of Drosopigi and rounded a huge olive tree planted near the community fountain.  We were greeted by several barking dogs as we descended the path from town into the parking area of our stone house, and we lugged our bags up several flights of broken stone steps and crossed the threshold of an amazing house.  The twilight views from all the windows stretched across the deep mountain range to the curving seashore and the ocean beyond.  The tension from a day of long travel melted away as we settled into the spacious house with stone walls, high ceilings, and heated tile floors.  We cooked a quick pot of spaghetti, and we were thankful that we were happy, healthy, and together around the supper table.

Our new backyard

We’ve toured a few famous caves in our travels over the years, and while they’re interesting, I’ve formed the opinion that if you’ve seen one cave, you’ve seen ‘em all.  We took a tour of a cave system on the shore of the Messiniakos Gulf that changed my mind.  The Caves of Diros were discovered and inhabited by Paleolithic and Neolithic tribes as evidenced by the artifacts found inside, and it's believed that the surrounding area was one of the first European settlements.  People living around the caves up to four thousand years ago believed that the vast underground expanse was the passage to the Underworld, and they buried their dead nearby to facilitate an easier trip.  The admission fee was steep, but since we’ve paid next to nothing for our archeological tours so far, we handed over the euros knowing the numbers would average out.  There were only a few other visitors there, and within five minutes we were assigned to a boat with a young couple, donned our lifejackets, and set out for a forty-five minute tour of the caves.  

The guides navigate the small boats wth a thick oar that’s used to generate momentum by pushing off the ancient formations, an act that would send American cave superintendents into a tizzy.  Also, the guides only speak Greek, so the nice young Greek couple in the front of our boat received a narrative delivered in a rich baritone, while we smiled and stared wide-eyed at the structures created by unknown years of slow dripping mineral deposits.  There were huge stalactites narrowing to a point just above stalagmites on the cave floor that looked like piles of melting ice cream.  Huge waves of pillowy hardened minerals lined the cave walls in colors of cream, deep gold, emerald, and russet, and there were vast ceilings of tiny crystal stalactites with points like hypodermic needles.  The reflections of the formations in the deep clear water created a scene of eerie wonder, and the minutes flew by as we were treated to new settings around every turn.  The last ten minutes of the tour were self guided as our guide helped us disembark and directed us to the footpath leading to the cave exit on the far side of the rocky cliffs.  We emerged to bright sunshine and the sight of the aquamarine lagoon in front of the visitor center still in awe of the ancient cave.  So yeah, if you’ve seen one cave, you’ve seen ‘em all, except that one, wow.  Since there’s no wifi at our stone house in the hills, we spent the rest of the afternoon in Areopoli at the internet cafe so the kids could do some schoolwork.  It’s hard to believe our time in Greece is almost over, but we’re making the most of what’s left. 

Outside the caves

Caves of Diros

Next day, we were up early, and after a quick breakfast, we hit the road for the ancient seaside town of Monemvasia situated on a small rocky island joined to the mainland by a narrow strip of land with a causeway.  It’s similar to Mont St. Michel in France, but smaller in scale, and the town is hidden on the backside of the island.  Monemvasia was a Byzantine settlement back in the seventh century, and though it’s been ruled by many empires over the centuries including the Venetians, it still retains its unique look and medieval atmosphere.  We drove about two hours along the coast on undulating, twisting roads, and we were treated to some spectacular scenery in the countryside and in the quaint little villages along the way.  The only means of access to the island is to walk through a stone tunnel, so we parked our car on the causeway and strolled about one kilometer to the passage and stepped back in time.  The tunnel opens to narrow cobblestone streets with a small square near the center of the lower town, and the streets slope higher onto the side of the mountain leading to the upper town and old battlements at the top.  Most of the houses are built into the side of the mountain, and they all have rough stone facades with red barrel tile roofs.  

The residences are linked by a labyrinth of stone alleyways, and we spent some time wandering and getting lost in the village until hunger forced us back down to the main street where we met a nice cafe owner who spoke English very well.  She gave us historical maps of the town and told us about her relatives in the United States and her upcoming trip to visit them.  We sat outside the upper terrace of the cafe and enjoyed one last Greek feast of local sausage, eggplant, salad, crusty bread, and rich, freshly pressed olive oil.  We ate slowly and enjoyed the sunshine and soft breeze coming off the ocean, and we talked about all the things we experienced during our thirteen days in Greece.  We felt that this country was one of our favorites so far.  The history here is layered and captivating and the setting for all the  drama played out over the centuries is unmatched with mountain vistas, rolling hills full of olive and orange trees, and small villages where life hasn’t changed much for a long time.  As evidenced by the great civilizations that developed in Greece, it’s a land full of resources, great beauty, and resilient people.  Even in ruins, some of those ancient societies are still powerful in the legacy they left the world, and the feeling we had standing in their midst will be with us always.