Welcome to Our Village
Peter and I arrived in Athens via Munich, no worse for the wear. We picked up a rental car near the airport and navigated our way through light traffic to the neighborhood called Kessariani. This is the neighborhood where my old friends Thanasi and Koula live. We met in 1979 when I was a young archaeology student in Athens and have been close friends ever since. The four of us were joined by another old friend, Akis, at a local taverna off a quiet lane. It was chance to catch up on last year’s happenings and plan our three-week journey.
We set off for the southern Peloponnese just after rush hour the following morning, circumnavigating the massive sprawl that is Athens. In short order we crossed the Corinth Canal, a 2700-year-old engineering concept that was begun under the Roman emperor Nero (by 5000 Jewish slaves) and only completed in 1893. This marvel of antiquity behind us, the new highway brought us to our final destination—the province of Messenia, on the southwestern tip of the Peloponnese’s western promontory.
It was an unmitigated joy to drive through the olive groves, alongside the ribbon of cobalt that is the Mediterranean, and then into my driveway. 
We unpacked and headed straight to the beach for a swim, laughing at our good fortune: arriving in a remarkably beautiful place, with great people, delicious food, and 332 days of sunshine each year. The sunniest place in sunny Hellas.
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Walking into Finikounda after a twelve-month absence involves walking into a gauntlet of extreme hospitality, kindness, and generosity—just as I promised, greeting old friends at every corner.
Peter experienced his first taste of Greek taverna life (minus the copious quantities of wine). It was early night, we were home by midnight, lulled to sleep by a chorus of cicadas and the howls of jackals.
The next morning the two of us ran to the beach, down the mountain and into the sea, and then headed to nearby Methoni to get supplies and tour the massive medieval castle; constructed by the Venetian in the 1400s as a way station for pilgrims traveling east the Holy Lands. We imagined the final siege, the great citadel’s fall to the Ottoman Turks, the mayhem and the pillaging.
Then we had a coffee and went for another swim.
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