Kalambaka

Kalambaka is an old Turkish town located in Meteora—the land of the giants. Meteora is located in a fertile plane at the confluence of two rivers. It is notable for the towering columnar rock formations that rise above the plane. The ancient Greeks say that after the giants lost their battle with the gods, the gods turned them to stone in this place. In Christian times, hermits climbed these formations to live their lives in simplicity and solitary prayer and contemplation. Eventually groups of these aesthetics banded together into monastic orders and built monasteries perched atop the rock towers. We spent our morning viewing the monasteries and visiting two of them. In the past, the only way into most of the monasteries was by being hauled up in a basket attached to a rope. Now, in all cases, stairs access the monasteries and some have had roads built to them. They all pretty much have electricity and plumbing now, too. Monasticism isn’t what it used to be. Many of these beautiful old buildings are now empty, or at best have one monk caretaker. Two have become convents. There just aren’t enough monks to go around. Monasticism, as I mentioned before, isn’t what it used to be.

Both of the monasteries that we saw were filled with beautiful examples of Byzantine icons and art and many are in the process of renovation and restoration thanks to tourist dollars. In addition to the amazing art and architecture, the scenery itself was fantastic and awe-inspiring. We took lots of great pictures of all of that plus some cat pictures—Kathy’s particular fascination. At one scenic overlook, we came upon two cute waif kittens that hungrily devoured two crackers, the only food our group had to offer them.

A Meteora Monastery

We drove back to Kalambaka for lunch and ate at a traditional Greek restaurant where, in traditional style, we went into the kitchen to tell the cook what we wanted. The cooks were Mama Kate, the proprietor, and her daughter, who spoke English. I was tempted by the chicken and peppers in retsina wine, but settled for the meatballs, rice, and beans.

After lunch, we went hunting for some Vitamin C to treat my cold. Because a green cross marks all apothecaries, they aren’t hard to spot; but since no two seem to carry the same things, finding a specific item can be an adventure. In the first one we tried, the clerk didn’t speak English. I tried several variations of “Vitamin C” but we were not communicating. Finally, we both just shrugged. As I turned to leave, I spotted a small box on a shelf that had written on it, amidst all the Greek writing, the English phrase “Vit C.” I happily bought it. The box contained two vials of tablets. I promptly opened one vial and popped a tablet in my mouth. An immediate “fizzy-in-the-mouth” reaction allowed me to determine quickly and astutely that these tablets were meant to be put into a glass of water. I found my way to the nearest garbage can, and with my mouth foaming like a rabid dog; I spit the tablet out.

The next apothecary sold me some fruit flavored lozenges that actually proved to be quite effective in relieving my sore throat and making my cold go away. Then, to get the fizzy tablet taste out of my mouth we went in search of a taverna where I could have coffee. We found a little outdoor place on the main street where another member of our tour group was despondently sipping coffee. From previous encounters with this person, I had him pegged as one of those middle-aged American white guys who wanted the whole world to be like his hometown. “I tried to tell them how to make American coffee,” he told us.

“How is it?” I asked.

“Tastes like shit,” he responded.

My first interaction with the Greek coffee hater was the day before when we stopped at an ice cream place that served, according to Irini, the best ice cream in Greece. He was despondently eating ice cream when I sat down next to him. “Where you from?” he asked me.

“Minnesota,” I told him

“You got Cold Stone Creamery there?

“Yes, we do.”

“Well, they sure as hell don’t have it here!”

Eventually, we got back on the bus, left Kalambaka, and spent the rest of the day on the road, driving back to Athens. It rained a little on the way back. Later in the week, Kalambaka and the surrounding area got torrential rains that resulted in flooding. The flooding washed out a bridge on the main highway between Kalambaka and Athens that I assume we had passed over just a few days before.

By the time our bus got through Athens traffic and dropped us at Syntagma Square it was after seven pm. There had been demonstrations that day in central Athens. Irini had been worried about how those demonstrations would affect traffic and if agitation by anarchists would turn the demonstrations to riots, but by the time we arrived, all seemed quiet. The demonstrations were evidently due to the current state of political turmoil. There is much polarization regarding the best economic course for the country. While we were in Greece, the secondary teachers were out on strike demanding a 45% pay increase and local elections imminent, which increased the public discourse. The demonstrations were part of that process.

We walked several blocks from the square to our hotel. This time we were staying in the Achilleas, which was another old, classic hotel, like the Astor, but smaller. The Achilleas, shoehorned between other old buildings on a side street, has around 30 rooms on six floors. After we checked in and unpacked, we walked down to the Plaka and found some Greek salad at an outdoor café called the Hydra (in Greek YDPA), situated in a shaded square. It was dark when we got there, and the café lighting was dim—a few light bulbs fastened to trees. At one point, I put my hand down onto the bench that I was sitting on and felt something tickle my hand. At first, I thought it was a bug and tried to brush it away, but when I looked down, I realized a cat had curled up next to me on the bench. He was not shy. I petted him a little, but when he put his paws on the table and started to show interest in the feta on my salad, it was time for him to go.

After we had eaten, we went back to our little old room, crawled into our little old hard-as-rock beds in our little old cramped home away from home.