Messinia

 

Messinia

 

 

The prefecture (roughly “county” or "state") of Messinia is the southwestern region of the Peloponnese, the southernmost part of mainland Greece. The peninsula closest to Italy, whose capital is Kalamata, it is separated from the middle peninsula, which forms the prefecture called Laconia, by the Gulf of Messini. Sparta is located in Laconia, about 90 minutes away by car to the east.

Like Greeks throughout antiquity, the people of this region formed colonies. The Sicilian city of Messini, for example, was establised by people from Messinia. So too Marseilles in modern France. 

Olive groves tumble down to the sea

Poppies and other wildflowers

Our little red roof amid the olives

Messinia has a storied history dating back to the Early Bronze Age (c. 2800 bce), known as the Mycenaean period. The Bronze Age kingdoms marked a period of advanced palatial civilizations, with the creation of an early written script, predating the alphabet (Linear A) and large citadels such as Mycenae in the Argolid (the “thumb” of the Peloponnese to the east), and Homer’s “sandy Pylos”—which is just down the road from our house . . . and is still sandy.

 

The contours of what would be modern Messinia were formed in 371 bce after the defeat of Sparta by the Theban king Epaminondas following the Battle of Leucra, after which the Messinians were free from the dominance of Sparta, which lasted for 350 excruciating years. At this point, the Messinians developed their own kingdom, situated between towering and snow-covered Mount Taygetos to the east and the Ionian Sea to the west.

Legend and the archaeological record supports, to a large degree, the much earlier history outlined by Homer in The Iliad, a foundational literary source of the ancient world, and Europe’s first epic literary achievement.

The “wise” King Nestor organized the armies that would later besiege Troy, gathering the luminaries of myth: Achilles, Agamemnon, Odysseus, to name but a few. More than twelve hundred vessels were said to have sailed from Voidokoilia, the beautiful, horseshoe-shaped cove that is famous from the deep reaches of antiquity, before leaving on their journey to Troy (modern Asia Minor), to avenge the "rape of Helen."

The Greeks besieged Troy for ten years, according to myth, then employed subterfuge to enter the walled city in the cavity of a large wooden horse. The rest is--as they say--history.

Voidokoilia, west of Pylos

Voidokoilia is famous today as a clothes-optional beach and as the backyard of the exclusive Costa Narvarino resort, where the "shabby" rooms start at 1,200 euros a night and the really expensive ones are over 20,000 euros a night. From Bronze Age to the age of conspicuous consumption in a mere 5,000 years.

Homer’s great tale informs modern readers—historically and poetically—and many of the geographical landmarks described in The Iliad surround this region.

Ancient Rivalries

Seven hundred years after the fall of Troy, a new force became dominant: Sparta.

As mentioned, Sparta is located in Laconia, which forms the middle peninsula of the Peloponnese, in the shadow of the 8,000-foot Mount Taygetos—which I hope to climb with a friend in early June. Sparta dominated Messinia, by extreme force, for another 350 years.

The residents of Messinia, who submitted to the power of Sparta, were known as helots. Essentially they were slaves, periodically raided and slaughtered by their overlords to the east. Over the course of many generations, the Messenians failed in in ill-fated attempts to free themselves from the Spartan yoke.

You can get there from here

The rural bucolic

Citizens of Sparta enjoyed a special status, but such status came with responsibilities, namely a lifetime of military service (for males). Other non-citizen residents of Sparta, called periodicoi, enjoyed some of the benefits of citizenship but carried no weapons—neither sword nor shield.

Spartan warriors were "paid" in a curious currency: large iron ignots, weighing hundreds of pounds, which were, by design, difficult to hoard (or carry in one's wallet!) but very useful for making swords, shields, and armor. For a warrior society, iron was a precious commodity.

Each spring, the Spartan armies would terrorize the helots of Messinia in deadly campaigns that proved instructive. Insurrections by the helots were met with unrelentling violence. Young Spartan men proved their military metel by engaging in these bloody raids each spring.

Athens, the other great city-state that rivaled Sparta—located in Attica far to the northeast—kept the Spartans at bay but at great cost for generations, in both treasure and fighting men, and through great vigilance, as well as with a superior navy.

But first, the two armies “saved” Hellas and all of Europe by defeating the far superior armies of Persia. The final battle of Marathon in 490 bce freed Greece from Persian dominance forever.

Like rival nations today, the Spartans and the Athenian viewed each other with tremendous suspicion. Each was the Other, strange people with curious customs. One can't help but see the parallels today with, say, China and the United States.

The Spartans considered the Athenians impious, weak, and “unmanly.” The Athenians considered the Spartans uncultured, country bumpkins. In the view of the Spartans, the Athenians had no shame—they were impious, in a most embarrassing kind of way.

Which makes the following vignette even more curious:

Periodically, the unmarried, post-pubescent girls of Sparta would gather naked in the city square, there bodies lathered with olive oil from head to foot. The girls would compete in public, throwing javelins, while the unmarried men would watch, in silence, presumably with equal measures of awe and respect, as the girls demonstrated their skills in precise javelin throws. What a way to find your futue mate!

And, still, the Spartans considered the Athenians the intemperate ones, full of vanity and hubris.

 

Modern Messinia

Until relatively recently, this region earned its way largely through agriculture. There are said to be over 5 million olive trees in Messinia. It is the region’s life blood—and has been since ancient times. But the region is equally famous for citrus, currants, and every vegetable imaginable. Sheep- and goat-herding are part of life for many. 

With more than 320 days of sunshine—and much less rain than ever before, which is a problem—anything and everything grows.

Only recently (since the early 2000s) did tourism become a larger part of the local economy. With a growing road system, this change has accelerated. One day tourism will eclipse agriculture. But today, everyone is a farmer, even those engaged in the tourist industry. One’s wealth and status is measured by the number of olive trees one cultivates. Owing to the family dynamics of inheritance over thousands of years--where large tracts were divided in each generation, a farmer’s plots are many and often separated by kilometers. But still, you hear: “Niko has 800 trees, Kosta has 1,200 trees,” etc. Such is the measure of personal or family wealth.

 

The source of excellent cheeses

The other economic engine is the second home market. 

Well-heeled Europeans are buying land and old houses at an exponential rate. The renovation of old houses is a wonderful thing that preserves the character and cultural heritage of the area.

But mostly, these well-heeled folks build villas: not humble abodes (like ours) but instead massive cement structures, architecturally designed, clad in sofa (plaster). These monstrosities dwarf the traditional homes—like ours.

The Germans, in particular, wall off their compounds, install swimming pools, and to a large degree remain isolated from the local community.  But, in fairness, they are the foreign residents who bother to learn to speak credible modern Greek--unlike the English who can only speak...English.

The Dutch, like the English, tend to ingratiate themselves with the local people. During the summer festivals, a group of Dutch residents perform in the village amphiteater, wearing their unique style of "traditional" garb.

On the subject of Germans, I recall an Australian friend's cheeky comments: "The Germans like to occupy the highest grounds; they like to occupy the oceanfront; they like to occupy...Poland."

I refer to this phenomena as the “villa-fication” of traditional, rural Greece. In another twenty years, this bucolic region will have been transformed and perhaps made unrecognizable. Many of us who cherish traditional Greek life hope that this will not be the case.

For now though, by and large, this  place has retained a special character, where the values of “traditional” Greece remain intact. The values are not simply architectural but cultural.

Nothing reflects these values like filoxenia / φιλοξενία (literally, “friend of the foreigner), known to English speakers as “hospitality.”

A day or two doesn’t pass when someone I’ve never met drops off a bag of lemons, a bunch of dried oregano, a basket of figs. And more often than not, on one’s first visit to a local cafeneion—the life blood of village society—payment is refused.

I lack the literary skills to describe just how kind and welcoming people can be. One is meant to feel a part of the community from the outset. This was demonstrated once again just last night, as I stopped at the oceanside sweet shop for a beer.

Dimitri, the owners' son, was celebrating his twenty-third birthday. The patio overlooking the ocean was crammed with people, eating, drinking, and singing. Five men played bouzoukis, baglamas (a much smaller version of the bouzouki), and guitars, and drum box.

Without much hesitation, Dimitri's mother gave me a plate of roasted pork, tomatoes, cucumbers, and sliced bread. And a carafe of wine. It was a gift to help celebrate their beloved son's special day.

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In a few shorts days, my friend John will arrive from Scotland for a week of distance running, swimming, eating, and touring. For me there is nothing more satisfying than sharing this incredible land with a visitor, particularly one who has never before visited rural Greece. I have only had this opportunity once before, with a local Maine friend--his first overseas trip. 

Rich in Bronze Age, classical, and medieval sites—there are three Crusader castles within twenty minutes of our house.

Messinia is also a naturalist’s dream come true, with a multitude of species (flora and fauna alike), including a large number of migratory birds transiting from North Africa to the steppes of Russia and beyond.

There are also jackals, a now-growing remnant population that crossed from Africa eons ago, wolves (some say, but I doubt), wild boar, and my least favorite: snakes. The only poisonous snake is the horned viper.

As an aside: I have a snake bite kit, but the instructions are in German. So I'll need a dictionary or a translator in a pinch. 

By late June, the local beaches are the transitory home to the carreta-carreta, the loggerhead turtles—massive gentle giants that lay their eggs in the dunes. From my beach awning, dophins can be seen from shore, and a multitude of beautifully colored fish swim in small schools around your feet, in water that is clear at a depth of fifty feet or more.

But, of course, more often than not it is the people who make a place special. And here in Messinia, there are no shortages of personalities. So many people are larger than life. Not so different than people who populate our other paradise in rural Maine.

View down to Finikounda and the big beach