Athens + Deep Mani, Greece
The plan was to put ten days in Greece between Japan, India and Morocco as a sort of cultural respite. Take some comfort in being able to speak English most places, a currency we know and a general sense of familiarity with how things work - we’ve both spent a fair bit of time in European countries. We also designed most of our Greece stay to be about landscapes rather than human interactions – we needed a break.
Our plans paid off and, now on day 2 or 3 in Morocco, I feel pretty rested and once again jazzed to be confronted with so much to learn and experience as a total novice.
But, back to Greece.
We spent a few days in Athens, very much in the city center. We arrived in the evening, groggy after more than 24 hours of travel (three hour drive, long flight, some connection in the middle of the night I barely remember, long flight, drive into city, check in to hotel…). We grabbed dinner on a roof top, and the Parthenon was lit up behind me – that was fun. It was just sitting there like no big deal. This happened to me a handful more times during the next couple of days – like I would just be walking around, and all of a sudden there it is. On my first morning run, I accidentally came up on the ancient Coliseum of the Acropolis. I lacked the 10 Euro to take a lap around, sadly, but still - it felt pretty special.
I walked around a lot, taking in the café culture and quaint, hilly neighborhoods. It did feel familiar, and I welcomed it. We had dinner out with folks who also work on food issues. Diane Kochilas , a fabulous human, amazing cook, expert on Greek food and who hosts immersive cooking experiences in her homeland of Icaria (yes, please). And Nafsika Papacharalampous (she gratefully shortens it to Nasfika P for us), a food anthropologist and chef who also organizes cooking experiences in Greece. Her adorable partner joined also. The best part was a fabulously long, but totally respectful ‘disagreement’ that Diane had with the owner of the restaurant that took place in Greek and on the street. We ended up pulling up chairs on the sidewalk and watched it like a performance. (Diane reports the owner sent a bunch of food to her house later on as an apology – guess we know who won that one.)
I thought I would get more into the Greek mythology stuff – Hannah was addicted to the stories when she was a kid – but, for whatever reason the only real story that was oft repeated was that of Athena, the patron of the city. Goes something like this: Athena is the daughter of Zeus – born without a mother, emerging fully grown from his forehead, like you do. Anyhow, the newly formed city held a contest between two Olympic Gods, Athena and Poseidon, for naming rights. Poseidon struck the Earth with his trident and created a salt water spring - pretty cool, but Athens had abundant sources of water, and the spring was salty– so, not that useful. Athena planted a seed and an olive tree instantly sprung from it (people say the same tree still grows there). Recognizing that the tree would provide sustenance, oil and wood, Zeus declared Athena the victor (possibly, he was also biased by the whole forehead thing). Olive branches and leaves, of course, can be seen all over Greece as a national symbol of peace and prosperity to this day.
But we quickly shed Athena for the Mani peninsula. Part of the Peloponnese, it is the southernmost part of Europe.
We were bound for what some call Deep Mani. This rugged, remote tip is like a mash up of some of my favorite places: Big Sur, the Amalfi Coast, and the more rugged Caribbean islands like Nevis. Put all those together, turn up the volume on dramatic landscape and take away almost all development, even agriculture, in fact take away almost all people - and sprinkle the whole thing with stone towers and buildings that are either 50 years old or a few hundred years old – that’s Deep Mani. It’s insane.
The towers are a thing – when the residents were tribal, each clan had their own tower. Apparently, they often got into rivalries, so the towers came in handy for watching your borders. Many of those clan-based villages are abandoned and slowly crumbling into the rocky terrain, although a new wave of tourism and vacation homes has led to renovations and new buildings. However, it was eerily empty when we were there (pre-season, as everyone told us, even though we enjoyed almost perfect weather) – we barely saw humans or cars as we ventured around.
After eating our first meal (dinner) at the hotel, there is no way in hell Mark was going to eat there again - the kind of trying to be fancy thing that turns him off like a tap. We ended up spending the next week eating at only two tavernas. Because they were so great. I mean really great. And we fell in love with the folks who run them. It’s a lethal combination for us – fresh, local food made well and simply, beautiful humans who are nice to us. We’ll be your most loyal customer for life (Cold Spring, listen up).
For lunch we almost always went to a place called Porto located in a tiny, drop-dead gorgeous cove (Kagio) boasting insane shades of gemstone blue waters. You can sit on the porch, but why would you when there are tables under tiki umbrellas right on the beach? Like you can have your feet in the water while you are eating. Our routine was pretty quickly locked in. Our most challenging choices were: white or rose; which fish to pick from the cooler the fisherman brought in that morning; fried squid or not. Tough, I know.
While Maria cooked the fish (perfectly), we sat under our beach tiki umbrella table eating a tomato and cucumber salad and foraged asparagus. I never grew tired of this pattern, in fact if I could transport myself to anywhere on earth around 12pm today, it would be Porto Kagio. Not sure that feeling is going to leave anytime soon.
The other place we ate was walking distance from our hotel in the little village of Gerolimenas, driving the winding, steep roads back to the hotel from Porto Kagio at night not being the best idea. There we had equally challenging decisions, the toughest one being fresh lobster or fish. We sort of went 50/50. Actually, the most special dish of our time there was when we talked the staff into giving us what they ate for ‘family meal’ - fresh flat beans with stewed tomatoes (delish).
Other than eating, we swam in the Sea, took some terrifying cliff-side walks, went kayaking, explored a cave in a tiny boat (that was cool), drove all around and checked out the two small cities and lots of little coves. I would go back in a heartbeat if I needed some serious down time. It’s the kind of place you could hole up for a month or so and finish (or start) writing that novel you’ve been meaning to get to.
But now, on to Morocco….
Also - Mark is writing about our trip, too , if you just can’t get enough!
