Once again we have endured the many indignities of air travel, where necessity demands that one become an unwilling contortionist simply to arrive at one's destination. In our case, Athens via Madrid, where we spent several happy hours wandering through Europe's most oversized airport. Despite a later departure, and a Spanish layover (which sounds terribly adult), we arrived ahead of Jonathan's sister and niece, whose direct flight returned to Philadelphia with mechanical problems. But arrive they eventually did, and we had a happy family reunion at the Athens Marriott and then a dinner out, in the shadow of the Acropolis, with Jonathan's dearest Greek friends--Aki, Thanassi, Koula, and Dionysia--who all live in Athens. We broke our first rule in almost no time--of not eating too much or staying out too late.
The next morning, while the family slept, Jonathan and his niece, Alexandra, went for a run--what better way to see a new place? Risking life and limb, the two harriers ran up the mayhem of Othos Syngrou to the pedestrian walkway that circles the Acropolis, past the Roman theater of Herod Atticus, alongside the ancient Agora, and briefly into Plaka. In Plaka, Jonathan was able to show his niece the remnants of Old Athens, with its warren of alleys and closely knit neoclassical buildings dating from the 19th and early 20th centuries. Their run ended with a swim in the hotel's roof-top pool--with a tremendous view of the Acropolis and Likavettos hill.
Our rental car, a seven-seat Opel Zafira, was delivered to the hotel in mid-morning and by 10 a.m. we set off into the veritable auto thicket of Athens, braving the rush of kamikazee taxis, motorcyclists, trolleys, and trams, winding our way north toward Psyhico, the leafy suburbs of Athens--leaving behind the mayhem that is Athens. An act of faith (and brilliant directions) led us to the home of our friends Jane and Niko, where we enjoyed some cool refreshments in the delightful retreat of their garden. It is always such an unparalleled pleasure to pick up where we left off with old friends and family, as if no time has passed since our last visit.
Seemingly against all odds, we navigated our way to Othos Attikis, Athens' ring road that leads to points north or south. In our case, south, in the direction of Elefsinas (ancient Eleusis), a place that once figured so prominently in ancient Greece: the home of the Eleusian Mysteries. Lucky for us, finding the road to Corinth was somewhat less of a mystery. From Corinth, we entered Nemea in the northern Peloponnese, justifiably famous for its vineyards and miles of orange groves, extending in every direction from the highway.
Welcome to Messinia
Our destination was the region called Messinia, the southwestern tip of the Peloponnese, a place of unsurpassed natural beauty with it's generous, kind, and welcoming population. Here remains the fast-disappearing pieces of the "old Greece"--where folkways remain vibrant and the concept of filoxenia (literally "friend to foreigner" or hospitality) remains alive and well.
The new highway, an aspect of better times (not to mention EU benificence), extends nearly to Kalamata, Messinia's queen city. The new road allowed us to travel swiftly from Athens to our final destination, Finikounda (aka "our village") in little more than four hours. The switchbacks that descend to Kalamata remain (that section from Megalopoli is not yet completed), a fact that created a lovely centrifuge effect for the poor souls riding in the back seat of our vehicle.
Before arriving at our house, we stopped on the long beach leading to Finikounda for our first swim--a baptism of sorts in the cobalt Mediterranean. The beach there is every bit as spectacular as it was during our stay in the winter/spring of 2009. Lucia and Jonathan, in particular, commenced on a vital, parallel mission: definitively demarcated tan lines (Lucia) and the elimination of all discernable tan lines (Jonathan).
Kiria Irini and Family
We arrived in our village abode--Finikounda, on the southern tip of Messinia, site of our 2009 family sabbatical--located on the bottom floor of Irini and Yioryio's home. Little has changed since 2009: their hospitality is undisputed, large, and so very genuine. An enormous tapsi of briam (mixed vegetables cooked in copious quantities of olive oil) awaited us, along with our host's own olives, olive oil, and fresh goat's milk. A welcome gift for weary travelers. Our friend Yiota, their elder adult child, had baked a pan of scones, topped with the family's fresh mulberries and apricots from their land.
The First Supper
Alexandros the Great--an enormous, lovable hulk of a man who runs Fini's best gyro shop--lept from his chair when he saw us walking down the cobbled street, offering each of us a lung-crushing embrace. He saved his most powerful hug for Jonathan, managing to squeeze out whatever travel anxiety that might have remained in him. A Greek version of Elvis Presley with the physique of an NFL lineman and the indomitable spirit of Zorba, he is yet another of this village's special personalities. His lovely wife Dionysia offered us pint-sized hugs and plates of food, which we enjoyed outside.
Of Wild Boars, Jackals, and Pole Cats
An email from back home alerted us to the unfortunate fact of a racoon attack on our henhouse. Though disappointed by the news (no more fresh eggs!) this information provided us with ample subject matter for the cafeneion, much appreciated by our village friends who coincidentally lost their hens a few days earlier to a hungry fox or three. The fates of farmers are universal.
In recent days there has been much damage caused by the wild boars, who wreak havoc on the local perivolis (gardens). Creatures of considerable size and strength (often weighing more than 100 kilos) these creatures share the margins with jackals (an endangered species, the last of which are found in this area), and "pole cats"--by all description the Hellenic version of the Maine marten. Worse still (for Jonathan) are the snakes. Earlier today, while looking at a piece of property, we encountered a four-foot-long snake, who, we are told, was more scared of us than we were of it. Jonathan disputed this assessment while finding cover in the limbs of an olive tree.
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