Inflight Magazine of Brussels Airlines

A Greek odyssey

FROM ATHENS TO HADES

Images Axiom, Alamy, Johan Fowelin, Nikolaj Møller

Following in the footsteps of travel writer Patrick Leigh Fermor, Heidi Fuller-Love hires a car at Athens airport and spends five days exploring Greece’s wildest peninsula

Named for Phrygia’s mythical king Pelops, who conquered this savage region before his father had him chopped into bite-size pieces and fed to the gods, the Peloponnese is a collective name for that hand with four rocky digits which points from the bottom of Greece towards Crete and Africa. British travel writer and war hero Patrick Leigh Fermor wrote Mani: Travels in the Southern Peloponnese, his book about the middle digit – dotted with stone towers inhabited by the truculent Maniots and cut off from the world by the Taygetus Mountains – in the 1950s.

Inspired by this fascinating account, we flew into Athens half a century later, hired a car and set off to follow in the footsteps of the man whose deeds are commemorated in the film Ill Met By Moonlight – where Dirk Bogarde, aka Fermor, is parachuted into Crete during World War II and organises the capture and evacuation of the German general Heinrich Kreipe.

Athens to Kalamata

Dawn cast a chill halo over the sacred Elefsina road as we left wise goddess Athena’s city. But by the time we’d driven the 238km to Kalamata, via Corinth and Tripoli, the sun was high in the sky and we’d acquired a lot of useful local road knowledge. This included: Greeks overtake anywhere, honk their horn at every occasion and expect slower vehicles to ride on the hard shoulder so that faster ones can overtake.

When Fermor visited Kalamata back in the 50s, the place was much more laid back. Once, when he and his companions were eating lunch on a restaurant terrace and suffering from the heat, they: “stepped down fully dressed into the sea carrying the iron table a few yards out and, up to our waists in cool water, sat round the neatly laid table top,” – and the waiter didn’t bat an eyelid!

Although we didn’t dare copy Fermor, settling on a vine-shaded terrace we soon discovered that this charming seaside town was a great place to wind down.

As well as its busy harbour, the town is famed for a honey-covered sesame sweet called pastelli, a clog dance with scarves called the Kalamatianos, and olives the size of almonds.

Sipping Mythos beer and feasting on tender cubes of souvlaki (pork kebab) dipped into creamy tsatsiki (yoghurt and cucumber sauce), we waited for evening to cool the cobbles. Then we climbed – through streets buzzing with youths on scooters, old men playing tavli (backgammon) outside coffee-perfumed cafés and street hawkers bawling their wares – to the 13th-century castle at the top of town. Villehardouin, the French knight who built it, is famed for chronicling many of the blood-curdling events of the Fourth Crusade.

From here we admired stunning views over the Messinian bay where Aristomenis did battle with the Spartans in the 5th century BC. Then we headed for Kalograion convent to buy some of the gorgeous silk scarves that are spun and woven here by local nuns, before retiring to our hotel. Charming and centrally situated, the Hibiscus is full of lovely antiques and cushy sofas that are perfect for lounging around in.

Kalamata to Kardamili

A leisurely drive, through a lush landscape fringed with cypress spears and cluttered with tiny villages like Stoupa, the birthplace of the man who inspired Nikos Katzanzakis to write Zorba the Greek, took us to Kardamili the next day.

We expected the village where Fermor still lives – and where his wife, the photographer Joan Elizabeth Rayner, died a few years ago at the ripe old age of 91 – to be a touristy hellhole full of people claiming to know the writer personally. Instead we found a charming hamlet framed by the distant peaks of the Taygetus mountain range, trimmed by a pebble beach and buried in scarlet and ochre bougainvillea. From here we could have hiked a few kilometres to visit the picturesque Byzantine church of Saint Spiridon or the acropolis of Cardamyle mentioned in Homer’s Iliad. But the heat made us lazy, so we spent the afternoon swimming from the village’s secluded beach instead.

A roaring appetite that evening lured us to Kiki’s Taverna, owned by the Troupakis, the family Fermor thought were descended from Byzantine emperors. The only tourists in sight, we fed on steaming slivers of squid followed by pastitio (a succulent ham, cheese and macaroni pie) washed down with fragrant tumblers of Plomari ouzo. Then we headed up into the pine-clad hills to spend a night in one of the Notos Hotel’s spacious, sun-filled rooms, surrounded by orchards and silvered olive groves.

Kardamili to Aeropolis

Named for the Greek war god Ares, Aeropolis is the gateway to the Inner Mani. The village bristles with pyrgospita, those tall stone towers with slits for windows are the trademark of this region where the bellicose Spartans once held sway. Initially built to keep out pirates and other marauders, these forbidding towers later became strongholds for wealthy, vendetta-loving local families, who hid behind the high walls and threw cannonballs at each other while the poor folk ran cowering about their business beneath.

Belying those austere façades, however, the old village is a charming tangle of jasmine-scented alleys and café-filled squares. It clusters around a whitewashed church from whence, on 17 March 1821, the Maniots declared war on the Ottoman Empire.

From Aeropolis, a dizzy road swooped us down to the partly submerged Diros caves, which were discovered in 1895. Here a gondola carried us on an hour’s journey through a magical labyrinth of low-roofed tunnels and vast galleries decorated with salmon-tinted stalactites and stalagmites.

Back at Aeropolis that evening, we had a traditional dinner of fassolata (bean soup) and glina (smoked pork sausage) in a restaurant on the village’s main square, then snuggled up for a sumptuous night at the amazing Porto Vitilo Hotel. Built in a Maniot-style tower, it’s just a few yards from the secluded Itylo beach.

Aeropolis to Gerolimenas

Trees gave way to thorny bushes, fields gave way to rock-strewn hillsides and pyrgospita frowned down on our vehicle from every hill as we left Aeropolis and crossed a string of fortified villages, heading deeper and deeper into the Mani. After stopping off at the dusty and unremarkable hamlet of Kombos to pay lip service to Fermor – who arrived here, exhausted, after scaling the 2,000m high Taygetus mountains – we made our way to the tiny seaside resort which was our next stop. Our little car managed the potholed road fairly gracefully, but it would have been a lot better suited to Fermor and his donkey.

We spent two days at Gerolimenas snorkelling from the pebble beach and spotting octopus and starfish in seas so clear we could see even the tiniest creatures moving along the bottom. In the afternoons we crawled back to the Kyrimai Hotel to soak up more of that glorious late season sun as we lounged by its sublime sea-view pool.

Gerolimenas to Hades

When Fermor visited Vathia, our last stop, it was poor but lively. Nowadays this 16th-century hamlet is a spectacular huddle of ruined tower houses, buried in a perfumed tangle of fennel and mint, which stares in brooding silence at the Messinian gulf glittering far beneath. From Vathia, the road rollercoasters onwards for a dozen kilometres, then fizzles out before it reaches Cape Matapan. Here, Greek mythology tells us, Hades once presided over the underworld.

Sadly we had to hurry back to Athens that night and didn’t have time to travel those last few kilometers. But the atmospheric drive to Kalamata as dusk was falling, along roads lit only by the flickering oil lamps of roadside shrines, seemed a fitting way to end our holiday in this wild and wonderful land, which hardly seems to have changed since Fermor came here 50 years ago on the back of a donkey.

In the know

Useful travel planning tips

Getting there

From Athens, we took the coast road to Corinth, crossed the famous canal (opened in 1893), then whizzed inland via Tripoli to reach Kalamata, 238km south of Athens.

Where to stay

Hibiscus Hotel, 196 Faron Street, Kalamata, tel.  www.traditionalhomes.gr/hibiscus

Notos Hotel, pictured, Kardamili, tel. , www.notoshotel.gr

Hotel Porto Vitilo, Neo Itylo, tel. , www.portovitilo.gr

Kyrimai Hotel, Gerolimenas, tel. , www.kyrimai.gr

Find out more

Greek tourist office, www.gnto.gr Kalamata tourist office, 6 Polivious Street, Kalamata, tel.

Did you know?

Not just there for emergencies, the Greek Tourist Police can advise on restaurants, accommodation and sights. Dial 171 within Greece, or visit the gnto.gr website for a list of their offices.

What to read before going

Mani: Travels in the Southern Peloponnese by Patrick Leigh Fermor.

The Cretan Runner by George Psychoundakis. Written by a former subordinate of Fermor’s, this is the dispatch runner’s account of events in occupied Crete.

centrally situated, the Hibiscus is full of lovely antiques and cushy sofas that are perfect for lounging around in.

FR ‘Mani’ de l’écrivain Fermor – un tour de Grèce en voiture

Baptisée d’après Pelops, un roi mythique de Phrygie, le Péloponnèse est comme une main avec quatre doigts rocheux qui pointent du sud de la Grèce vers la Turquie. L’écrivain de voyage britannique et héros de guerre Patrick Leigh Fermor, a publié “Mani”, son livre sur le doigt du milieu dans les années 1950. Un demi-siècle plus tard, nous avons atterri à Athènes, loué une voiture et marché sur ses pas.

Au moment de notre arrivée à Kalamata, le soleil était haut dans le ciel. Après une bière Mythos et un repas festif au Souvlaki (brochette de porc), nous avons grimpé au sommet du château du 13e siècle. Ensuite, nous nous sommes dirigés vers le couvent de Kalograion pour acheter quelques foulards de soie, tissés par des nonnes de l’endroit.

Un voyage agréable nous a amené le jour suivant à Kardimili. Nous nous attendions à ce que le village côtier où Fermor vit toujours, soit devenu un affreux nid à touristes, mais au contraire nous sommes tombés sur un charmant hameau. Une faim féroce nous a conduits dans la Taverne de Kiki, où nous avons englouti des pastitio, gâteau au jambon, au fromage et au macaroni, le tout rincé par de l’ouzo.

Aeropolis est la porte pour découvrir le Mani intérieur et le village regorge de Pyrgospita, ces grandes-maisons tours en pierres avec une fente pour fenêtre. Depuis Aeropolis, une route serpente en descendant vers les grottes de Diros, où une gondole nous a transportés à travers les tunnels décorés avec des stalactites et des stalagmites.

Après une halte à Kombos pour transmettre nos politesses à Fermor, qui nous rejoignit, épuisé, après l’escalade des Montagnes Taygetus, nous avons mis le cap sur Gerolimenas, où nous avons passé deux journées de pratique de la plongée, au bord d’une plage de galets.

A l’époque où Fermor visita Vathia, ce lieu était animé. Aujourd’hui, ce hameau du 16e siècle est un amas de ruines. De Vathia, nous avons pris la route jusqu’à Cape Matapan d’où, selon la mythologie grecque, Hades gouverna le monde des Enfers.

Le retour à Kalamata sous un ciel crépusculaire était une merveilleuse façon de clôturer notre séjour dans un pays sauvage et magnifique, qui semble avoir à peine changé depuis que Patrick Leigh Fermor y débarqua il y a 50 ans, à dos d’âne.

NL Het Mani van Fermor – Griekse omzwervingen

De Peloponnesos, de hand met vier rotsachtige vingers die onderaan Griekenland naar Turkije wijst, is genoemd naar Pelops, de mythische koning van Frygië. De Britse reisauteur en oorlogsheld, Patrick Leigh Fermor, schreef in de jaren 1950 Mani, zijn boek over de centrale uitloper van het schiereiland. Een halve eeuw later vlogen we zelf naar Athene om in zijn voetsporen te treden.

Met de auto in Kalamata aangekomen, stond de zon al hoog aan de hemel. Na een glas Mythosbier en een portie souvlaki (vleesspiesje), klommen we naar het 13de-eeuwse kasteel. Vervolgens reden we naar het Kalograionklooster, waar we enkele zijden sjaals kochten, ter plaatse geweven door de zusters.

De volgende dag stond een rustige rit naar Kardimili gepland. We verwachtten dat het kustdorp waar Fermor nog steeds woont, een toeristenval zou zijn, maar vonden een charmant plaatsje. Onze honger stilden we in Kiki’s Taverna met een pastitio, een soort taart met ham, kaas en macaroni, met een glas ouzo erbij.

Aeropolis vormt de toegangspoort tot Mesa Mani (Binnen-Mani) en het dorp staat vol pyrgospita, hoge stenen torens met smalle vensters. Van daar daalden we af naar de Dirosgrotten, voor een boottocht tussen stalactieten en stalagmieten.

Na een korte stop in Kombos als eerbetoon aan Fermor, die daar uitgeput belandde na een klim in het Taygetusgebergte, reisden we naar Gerolimenas met zijn keienstrand, voor twee dagen snorkelen.

Toen Fermor Vathia bezocht, was het een levendig plaatsje. Vandaag is dit 16de-eeuwse dorpje niet meer dan een handvol ruïnes. Van Vathia reden we naar Kaap Matapan, waar volgens de Griekse mythologie Hades over de onderwereld heerste.

De trip terug naar Kalamata bij valavond vormde een mooie afsluiter van onze tocht door deze wilde en wondermooie streek, die nauwelijks veranderd lijkt sinds Fermors bezoek 50 jaar geleden, op de rug van een ezel.

Leave a Reply