Our ship's newsletter laid out the day's activities pretty well so let me just quote: "Today, we jump forward in time as we leave behind the magnificent Classical sites of Athens and Mycenae. We now explore the Byzantine Churches of Monemvasia. The two main attractions are the 13th century A.D. Church of Christos Elkomenos and the Agia Sofia. This includes a trip to the wonderful Byzantine city of Mystras and the remains of ancient Sparta."
Once again Concetta and I maintained our ritual of rising before 6:00 a.m. and greeting the dawn from the fantail of the Aegean Odyssey. We've found that there is simply no substitute for this premier breakfast location. If you haven't seen or read about it, the Mediterranea is a wonderful place to take in a sunrise or sunset. It has something to do with the minute particles of Sahara desert sand in the atmosphere. I remember thirty-five years ago when I was living aboard the MAR here in the Med that we would dread when the rains came at night. When we would get up in the morning the entire boat would be covered with mud.
Our tour for the day involved climbing aboard the Odyssey's small boats and making the short voyage to the quay. From there we set off on a ninety minute drive up into the mountains by bus. As you've read, our goal was to visit a couple of very old churches as well as see the site where ancient Sparta once thrived. There's not much left of Sparta now since the real estate developers moved in (yes it also happens in Greece), but still the little town that sits atop old Sparta is very picturesque and appears to be thriving. It turns out that you had to be part Sir Edmund Hillary and part mountain goat to fully appreciate these precariously perched religious buildings. It was not hard to see that the ancient stone paths had been trod by a lot of ancient feet. Fortunately, everyone made it up and back without turning an ankle or tumbling over the low stone walls that lined the path.
Today's outting brought it home to me once again that the very best sunlight in all of the world falls right here in Greece. It almost seems to take on a etheral quality, like you're looking past the confines of the real world into something beyond. The white-washed buildings seem to glitter and sparkle like someone had photoshopped them and upped the contrast level. We've all seen achingly blue skies in Nevada, but here in Greece the sky is so blue and radiant that you find yourself simply staring at it for long minutes at a time. The volcanic hills leap from the surface of the earth like they only just appeared a few minutes before. And the verdant olive groves, grape vineyards, and citrus orchards seem to be calling you to stop your frenzied travel and linger awhile. Stop and just breath in the intoxicating fragrance of Greece.
Once off the mountain, our tour leader took us to a nearby outdoor restaurant nestled in the foothills near old Sparta. Neatly arranged for us beneath a wonderful old pergola crowned with wisteria our hosts had provided neat white-linened tables. We spent a wonderful hour and a half eating spanakopita, cheese pie, greek salad, baked chicken and potatoes, and a wonderful light dessert that I will be thinking about for years to come. That together with a frosty mug of Greek beer on the front end, and strong, black Greek coffee on the back end served to provide us with one of the most memorable dining experiences Concetta and I have ever had.
The ride back to the harbor was long -- ninety minutes -- but provided a little siesta time after our big lunch. At one point I thought I had lost my sombrero, having left it at restaurant, but the next bus after us rescued it and the two of us were reunited in the harbor. After that it was a quick dash back to the ship, a shower, and the afternoon cocktail party. A little two much champagne together with the ship's gentle roll with the swells as we began our overnight voyage to Crete made it a tad difficult for me to make my way to our usual dinner spot on the fantail. Tonight, we opted for sharing a table with a delightful couple from Chicago and the four of us got along famously until the stewards had packed up most of the tables but ours. Thus ends yet another fabulous day in the sparkling blue world of the Aegean.
Tomorrow morning, we should be dropping anchor in the harbor of Heraklion, Crete, someplace that I haven't seen since I set off into some pretty storm-tossed waters from there in 1973 and very nearly didn't make it to my next port. If you want to read about THAT voyoage, pull up the web site, click on memoirs, and then click on the story entitled, "Sinking." In those days my nickname was, "Blue" for the blue hat I always wore. So, enjoy. I'll see ya on the flip side.
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