Whit Monday

OK, that was meant to be a short break, not two months. Things have moved on a little, not least in that I’m no longer in Preveza or, indeed, Greece. This blog is subtitled ‘A Winter In Preveza’, and since even England is grudgingly accepting that it’s about time summer began, it’s about time for this blog to end. First, let me rewind a few weeks which seem far longer and return to Nafplio. We’ll talk about that, then anything else that comes to mind, and then maybe I’ll finally get round to adding some photos to this site, and then we’ll leave it out in cyberspace, to be seen, perhaps, like the light of a star, years later.

So. Here’s a tip for high-flying metropolitan twenty-or-thirtysomething couples: if you’re thinking of a Greek city break, forget Athens, and Thessaloniki isn’t easy to fly to, and head for Nafplio. (Fly to Athens and hire a car – it’s less than two hours’ drive). Nafplio is hardly a city, but it was the first capital of independent Greece, and as a result has some fine old neo-classical civic buildings, wide parks, a marble-paved central square… it’s the most elegant town in Greece by several light-years.

The Venetians controlled the port for centuries, which shows in the tall buildings and narrow alleyways. They were determined to hold onto it, building fortresses all over the place: one sits on an island guarding the mouth of the harbour, another sits on top of a towering rock, 999 steps above the town. The old town is extensive and almost entirely free of ugliness; touristy, yes, but in a bearable way. Sitting outside a café in the town square with a beer or a breakfast, watching kids playing football, couples strolling, friends and extended families meeting, is an enduring pleasure. More cafes line the seafront. There’s a surprisingly well-maintained path skirting around the bottom of the fortress to a small beach, which makes a good stroll.

If you don’t like strolling and sitting around in cafes, Nafplio probably isn’t for you. Nor Greece, come to that. All the same, it’s a great base for exploring the area. There’s a beautiful beach a few miles out of town (we do swim, but it’s freezing) and pleasingly pastoral scenery, all rolling hills, orange and olive groves and wild flowers. There’s also a lot of ancient sites worth seeing: we don’t visit Ancient Tiryns, but its huge walls are an imposing sight from the road – massive boulders, and 20m thick in places.

Epidavros Theatre is stunning – it seats 15,000, and its famous acoustics are no myth. We don’t have a pin, but you can hear a coin drop from the back row. The theatre was part of a sanctuary to Asklepius, god of healing – drama therapy. There is something clam and reviving about the setting, and the theatre, as usual, unfurls a magnificent vista. Last time I was here, a group of English sixth-form girls sang an a cappella version of ‘The Sound of Silence’, which was gorgeous – no repeat of that, although Cheryl gives us the first few lines of ‘All the world’s a stage…’ Maybe not the most original choice, but can you think of a better one?

Mycenae is an altogether different site. While the ancient Greeks of Epidavros and the Parthenon seem directly connected with us, the Mycenaeans feel as remote as the people who built Stonehenge – and I think they’re roughly contemporary, although the Mycenaean civilization was far more advanced than Bronze Age Britain. It’s partly that Plato, Sophocles and Pericles belong to recorded history, whereas Agamemnon and co are names out of myth. Which, of course, makes it all the more remarkable to see his palace and possible tomb – discovered pretty much as described by Homer.

The Lion Gate is, Cheryl tells us, the oldest piece of ornamental architecture is Europe. The walls around it, like those of Tiryns, are made up of massive blocks of stone – constructed by the Cyclops, apparently (and I’d like to hear a better explanation). The Treasury of Atreus is equally impressive – a vast tomb under the hill, its brick walls tapering to a point – they hadn’t quite discovered the idea of arches. Its called, for its shape, a beehive tomb, and is full of bees, who presumably consider it a wonderful home. Swarming, also, with school parties.

Over the far side of the site, things are less obviously striking, and so less visited. And because of that, it’s a lot more satisfying, as you take in the landscape, the flat plane (of a retreated sea?) below, the hills behind, wild flowers and birdsong, goat bells in the distance – and a palace built 4500 years ago for a king, whatever a king is for. [Wonder if it features in the film of Troy?] Round this side, you’ll also find the ‘Secret Cistern’, where several hundred steps wind down into the rock. I make my way down until it’s too dark to see a thing, then feel my way a bit further, before getting scared and turning back. Take a torch.

One last thing about Nafplio: if you go, please take a spray can to deface the Far-Right-scumbag graffiti which scars a few too many walls around here.

Well. That trip ended, we returned to Preveza, and soon were back in England – just, of course, as the warm weather had truly arrived. I may add some bits and pieces to this in the future. If you’re ever going to Prezeza, drop me a line, and send it my love.