In search of paradise

It’s time for a final post about my journey through Eastern Europe in 1990. At the time, I was travelling with a group of 12 as part of a YWAM Christian missionary program. For almost three months, the group made its way progressively through Hungary, Yugoslavia, Romania and Bulgaria. Our formal activities finally came to an end in the Bulgarian city of Plovdiv.

On 30 July, we bid farewell to our local hosts and drove towards Sofia, the capital of Bulgaria. Here, our group split and went our separate ways for a final week of rest and relaxation. Six of us (me, Dean, Dave, Sandy, Michele and Christine) decided to take one of our two minivans and drive south to Greece, while the remaining six members returned to Switzerland to explore the Swiss Alps.

My group decided to go in search of a remote Greek beach, set up camp, and enjoy the ultimate postcard vacation. We left Sofia early in the afternoon and headed towards Thessaloniki, 300 km south. We were keen to see the city, given its prominent role in three New Testament books (Acts, as well as 1 and 2 Thessalonians). During the early days of the Christian church it was the capital of the Roman province of Macedonia. 

We stopped for a night in Thessaloniki and spent the following morning exploring this ancient Greek city. That’s us in the image above at the Arch of Galerius. This is a triumphal arch in the centre of town, built to commemorate a victorious campaign against the Persians by Roman Emperor Galerius in 306 AD. It was originally an eight-pillared gateway that formed a triple arch and connected to the Roman palace. Only two of the arches remain. 

Exploring Thessaloniki was kind of mind-blowing. A revered biblical location came to life for the very first time. When you live in the antipodes ancient history often feels mythical by nature rather than stories of real places where real people live. In the decades since, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had stop and figuratively pinch myself, marvelling at the fact “this place really exists”.

However, while Thessaloniki was fun, our ultimate destination was the Chalkidiki peninsula. This is the three-fingered landmass extends south of Thessaloniki into the Aegean Sea. Its rambling coastline was promising territory in our search for the perfect beach.

We headed south along the coast of the Kassandra Peninsula, Chalkidiki’s westernmost finger, mid afternoon on 31 July. However, the further south we drove, the more crowded the beaches became. Our dream destination was proving more elusive than anticipated. We eventually stopped for the night on the eastern shores of the peninsula.

The following morning, we continued our quest for the perfect beach. We drove back up the coast and around Toroneos Kolpos towards Chalkidiki’s middle finger. It was here, at the tip of the Sithonia Peninsula, that we finally found the beach we’d been searching for. 

Porto Korfu Beach ticked all the boxes. It was a gently arcing crescent of sand hugging the eastern shoreline of a small, sheltered bay. A narrow channel between two picturesque headlands provided safe access to the sea. Even better, there wasn’t a soul to be seen.  

A few days later, we found a postcard of Porto Korfu in a local store. I've kept it as a souvenir for more than 35 years. Look for the red dot in the image above. That was our small piece of paradise.

We set up camp on a grassy flat towards the southern end of the beach and spent the next three days in paradise. We swam in the warm azure-blue waters of the Aegean Sea. One evening, we filled watermelons from a nearby village with a bottle of Ouzo and feasted on their aniseed flesh. One afternoon, we hiked over the headlands to soak in breathtaking views of the local coastline. It was truly idyllic.

We even enjoyed an unexpected taste of local culture. Every morning, a young lad passed through our campsite shepherding a herd of goats. He’d walk them along the beach to graze on the headlands and return them home in the late afternoon. You can see the herd making themselves at home in the image above.

On the afternoon of 3 August, we finally packed up camp and began making our way north. Our minivan had to be returned to its owners three days later, in Einigen, Switzerland, more than 2,100 km away. We camped for the night on the outskirts of Nea Mouldania, gateway to the bustling Kassandra Peninsula.

The following day, we crossed into Yugoslavia and drove nonstop for the entire day and on through the night, before finally reaching Liechtenstein on Sunday afternoon. I recall one driving shift I took on. We pulled off the motorway late at night to refuel and take a quick bathroom break. As I drove across the motorway overpass, I momentarily forgot we were driving on the right-hand side of the road and turned onto the wrong side of the slip road leading into the service station. The entire van erupted with shouts as we realised my error.

I also remember our stop at the Liechtenstein border. A modest road sign and a small guard hut were the only indications of its existence. A friendly border guard welcomed us to the principality. We handed over our passports, hoping for a souvenir stamp. The guard waved them off. We insisted he stamp them. He eventually relented, disappeared inside his little hut and eventually returned with a stamp pad. I suspect he had to search high and low to find it. That’s my stamp in the image above. It would be another twenty years before I’d return to Liechtenstein again. 

We stopped for the night at Camping Mittagspitze, which I’m sure is Liechtenstein’s only campground. The following morning, 6 August, we drove across Switzerland and into Einigen. Here we handed back the minivan and large canvas tent we'd borrowed from the local YWAM base. Two days later, I set off with Dean Keiller, a Victorian sheep farmer, on a new adventure, backpacking our way through Western Europe. Follow this link to learn more about our three-month odyssey through 12 countries.