It’s a Small World

Greece in Spring is breathtaking. The mountains are covered with green grass, blooming trees and thousands of wildflowers. Snow still powders the peaks and in the valleys the almond, peach and cherry orchards are in full bloom. Citrus hangs on the trees and the produce stands sell big bags of oranges that are too juicy to eat in the car. We stop beside the road to eat them, or take them on hikes. They are almost impossible to peel, but when you take the first bite and juice drips down your chin, all the labor is worth it. Farmers work in their olive groves, trimming trees and burning the deadfall. Little wisps of smoke from their fires rise up all over the hills as they work. The grapevines are showing the tiniest hint of green from their plump buds. Even the cats are busy doing what animals do in spring.

The temps are cool but the sun is hot. Most days you need a sweater. According to the locals its been the wettest winter Greece has seen in years. That explains all the landslides we see, some completely blocking roads, others already cleared away. It also makes the seasonal streams flow and we’ve been drinking in the beauty.

Of course we take to nature when nature is in bloom. Instead of the cities, we headed off to the Peloponnes Peninsula to hike, explore and relax the first few days. Tucked way in the mountains at the end of an impossibly curvy road we found the Lousios Gorge with it’s hidden monasteries, rushing river and hiking paths. At the bottom of the gorge we came upon a spectacular waterfall and gazed in awe at the blue water thundering over the rocks. It was truly epic. The trail continued to a tumble down monastery clinging to a cliff face, and we scrambled around the ruins, shining our feeble flashlights on the dim painted ceiling of the chapel, dodging pigeon poop and marveling at the views.

On the way back out we passed a ramshackle looking monastery built on ledges on a cliff. Donkeys were grazing on a narrow patch of grass above us and on seeing us one came easing down the hill and blocked the path right in front of me. It’s a bit disconcerting, being on a skinny path with a donkey blocking your way and looking at you like he needs something. Turns out he did. He needed the orange peels I had in the bag I was carrying. As soon as he ate a few we were allowed to pass.

Andrew, Heath and I took a hike in the hinterland of Dirfi Peak. We seemed to be the only people for miles around. The hike went from a path up the mountain to a small dirt road that skirted a gorge for a while. There were streams and waterfalls over the road and several landslides that were partially cleared. At one such spot there was a massive rock planted about 3 feet from the cliff edge, and Heath got it into his head that we should roll it down the hill. It was a chance of a lifetime: huge rock, steep cliff, no people AND you were actually doing a good deed while you were at it. This was not just a rock. It was a boulder. About 4 feet in length and 3 feet tall. The guys estimated it at 4000lbs. It seemed like a stupendous operation for three people to do, but with careful selection of pry sticks, wedges and fulcrums, the rock slowly started to budge. It took at least 30 minutes of sweating, grunting and reconnaissance but finally, finally our efforts were rewarded and we watched in awe as the huge monster crashed to the valley below. Branches broke off trees and the earth shuttered when it would encounter a large tree trunk. Muddy and triumphant, we kept on walking.

It’s the season of wild fennel, and locals are out picking the ferny greens to use as seasoning or to make tea. I met a lady on the hillside at Corinth who stopped me to show me something and pulled off her backpack. Deep in the bottom was a bunch of fennel. She didn’t call it fennel, she called it some difficult to pronounce word that I faithfully tried to say. In her broken English she explained all about the herb and then we parted ways. I love random encounters like that.

We’ve been seriously wondering what our place is in Greece, or why we’re even here. We probably will never know, but in the meantime, we’re living for the moments of connection we can have with people. If we’re here to smile at one person, I guess that’s enough. One always wants to feel more useful.