Hania to Mykines

Today was a good day; I rarely do touristy things but today I visited a place I've wanted to see for years and years and years. That's why I'm the only outsider (tell a lie, there is a German archaeologist staying in another hotel) in the village of Mykines, a village who's economy is entirely based upon visitors to the archaeological site.

Hungry-looking restaurant owners line the single street, standing beside lines upon lines of dining tables, each decked out with immaculate linen flapping in the breeze. Cutlery for two, four, six, napkins, upturned water glasses, salt, pepper. 

No customers.

Hands wringing at the sight of the stranger approaching. Knuckles white, fingernails cutting into palms, anxious looks across the road to the competition, smile nicely. Cook reading the paper in the back, side-whispered angry words across the quiet to him, teeth brown from coffee, old dog lifts his head.

Souvenir shops, postcard racks, anachronistic reproduction sculptures and 'This is Sparta' t-shirts part to reveal more smiling faces with pleading eyes.

Please spend some money.

Back to the journey...

I took the bus back over the mountains to Hania in order to meet my next host; Nikolaos. The bus broke down on the way and to my surprise the driver got out to fix it himself, which he did in a little over an hour. It seems the bus drivers here often own their buses and are entirely responsible for their upkeep and repair.

Passengers wondering if the driver left the handbrake on before he got out

Niko and his brother took me along to a Cretan going away party in a mountain village on the first night. This kind of thing is exactly the reason I'm travelling, to see and possibly take part in the customs of the people whose land I'm travelling through. No photos exist of that night. The good traditional food, strong wine,haunting songs,friendly people and shooting randomly into the air are all in my head.

Ferry to the mainland

Out of season is the best season

The ferry ride was uneventful and not at all crowded, which was just as well as I couldn't get to sleep in my seat with all the lights on, noise from the TV sets everywhere and people walking around the ship all night long. So I made a little nest under a row of seats and used my rolled-up hoodie as an improvised pillow and blindfold. By 6.15 am the next morning I was standing on the quayside of Piraeus harbour, and with the help of my smartphone I had navigated Athens and was by 9.30 sitting on a bus bound for Kalamata.

Kalamata bus station, torrential rain.

There's not much for a traveler to do in a rainy city when all the things to see are outside apart from sit in a cafe and wait for the weather to pass. I'm spending a lot of time in cafes at the moment...

Cafe culture, looks like Cuthbert has been talking too much.

Kalamata also has the church where the Greek patriots swore to free the Peloponnese from Turkish rule, as you can see I was wondering how they all got inside at the same time...

Small yellow car shown for scale

My host in Kalamata usually lives with his sister but this week they had their parents down, at first I thought the situation could be a little awkward, but I'm learning to drop that kind of knee-jerk reaction that has stopped me from experiencing many interesting things in the past

so I took the opportunity to stay with a Greek family.

Mixalis and Ioannis taking me on a trip to see the mountains.

Sometimes along the way you are moved by the degree of love and acceptance shown by a host, hospitality is a word to describe a welcome that in some ways we are conditioned by our society to give, and on some level although freely given, hospitality is taken as matter of course. I will remember my stay with Yanni and his family in Kalamata as an experience beyond hospitality; in that the acceptance given to me for the five days I spent in their home, the home cooking, the openness about the politics and problems affecting the country and the way that even with the odd language barrier there was still a friendly dialogue. 

Kalamata from above

The family Manolaudis and the intruder at dinner

Navarino bay

Yanni and his father took me on several day trips during my stay, up into the mountains to see the views, to such a high altitude I could feel the air was colder and thinner. To a beautiful bay village (Kardamyli) with original non-concrete architecture and to Pylos, to visit the Mycenaean palace, the castles and Navarino bay. All three were closed due to Monday. The funny thing is, it didn't matter.

The next leg of the journey meant three bus journeys taking most daylight hours. After a lift to the bus station via the supermarket for some emergency rations, just in case, I headed to Tripolis, then changed to a bus to Argos, and that's where the problems started....

The bus ride over the mountains- epic.

Not actually what I wanted to see; the castle at Navplion

In spite of me stating my destination to the driver clearly,and it's prominent position on my bus ticket, the driver took a short cut along the coast road and skipped my destination! Ten minutes after getting off the bus the penny dropped as I was standing close to a harbour while Argos is a way inland. The old woman in the ticket kiosk insisted the next bus north left at 10am the next morning and it was getting cold and dark. I withdrew some more money at an ATM, just in case, sat in a nearby park and ate some of my emergency rations and had tried to figure out the problem. After half an hour a group of buses pulled up. I put the salami away and walked around them and saw one bus had Αθήνα (Athena) written on the front, so I asked the driver if he went north, then said some names of places, Argos? Yes. To Corinthos? Yes. Stop at Fichtia? YES! It was the right bus! Even the ticket I had bought from the machine before I asked at the ticket counter was valid. It's funny how things just work out.

Walking the road from Fichti to Mykines

After several hours on buses, even more hanging around bus stations and a few moments wondering where the hell I was going next later I arrived.

Mykines is the closest settlement to the site of the ancient citadel of Mycenae, the reason I made this detour. Super-touristy pictures of the ruins to follow.