"We'll follow the coast to the isolated Mani peninsula, home to generations-long clan wars and salt-of-the-earth villages." Heading still further south, we stopped for morning coffee and some history at Areopoli, named for Ares, the god of war. Reading Greek history, it seems that when Greeks weren't fighting each other, they were fighting invaders. Maybe, since he united his native Macedonia with Greece, we can't count Alexander the Great, but the list includes the Persians, the Romans, the Franks, the Venetians and the Turks. Not to mention, during World War II, the Italians (inept) and the Germans (viciously successful).
Even the Russians got involved, stirring up rebellion against the Turks. The War of Independence, which freed much of modern Greece, ran from 1821 to 1829, and the Maniots took a break from clan warfare to fight for freedom. There's a particularly good statue of a freedom fighter in Areopolis, along with other memorials to the war.
David gave us time to check out the small market in the main square, before taking us on a stroll around town and pointing out reliefs and frescoes decorating the churches, as well as the mementos of war. Near the market I met a local who proudly explained that the painting he had added to his van showed the olive harvest.
Back on the bus, we drove through countryside that got drier, rockier and more barren the further south we went. To our left, the view included olive trees, abandoned terraces and flammable gorse bushes, to our right, rocky coves and fabulous blue-green water. The countryside looked much friendlier to the tourist than the farmer, and I wondered how the locals made a living.
David had promised us a trip to "hell" in the afternoon, but first we stopped for lunch at a little seaside village. Called Gerolimenas by its inhabitants, we were soon calling it heaven, and had no wish to leave.
"After making a few back door discoveries..." Deep contentment settled over the group as we took in the delights of Gerolimenas. Some chose to get their feet wet in the crystal clear water, shading from palest green to deepest blue (that's Mia, Marie, Pauline and Kate). Some chose to lean back and prop their feet up while we waited for lunch (that's Bruce). We all gorged on good food: tzatziki, Greek salad, artichokes, beans and wonderful calamari. There may have been some wine involved, too.
Just when I started thinking about a siesta, David announced that we had to go. Mutinous muttering ensued, but we did troop reluctantly off to the bus. At least the scenery was still gorgeous, and we took a look at one of the Mani's fortified villages, where people who considered themselves descendants of the Spartans faced off against each other from stone towers.
En route to the southernmost point of mainland Greece, once thought to be an entrance to Hades, Spiros spent a little while in purgatory. After taking the wrong narrow road, he had to maneuver the big bus through a three-point turn, on a curve, to get turned around.
Aside from the wind, hell wasn't a bad place. We visited an old Christian church, and the ruins of a temple ominously labeled "Sanctuary and Death Oracle of Poseidon Tainarios", and we walked through fields of flowers - red, yellow and purple, poppies, daisies and buttercups, roses and herbs. Traveling in springtime, we were always surrounded by wildflowers, a striking contrast to the snow still crowning the mountains, and to the rocky hillsides of the Inner Mani.
"... we'll head north and east, to the harbor side town of Gythio." On the way north we made a toilet stop at Gerolimenas, and I noticed that Akroyiali, where we ate lunch, also rented rooms. You can sleep in paradise. But we were sleeping for two nights in Gythio, which suffered by comparison. True, our hotel rooms had balconies overlooking the waterfront, we could stroll past cafes to visit the lighthouse, and the snowcapped Tavgetos mountains formed an attractive backdrop. But even under a flamboyant full moon, it was not paradise.
Dinner didn't improve my outlook. Chris and Kate had a problem getting served at all, and the bean soup I ordered as a starter never showed up. Fortunately, my chicken souvlaki and fries did make an appearance, but this evening the meal was a matter of eating to live, rather than living to eat.
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