An Olympic sprint

In 1990, Dean Keiller and I had grand plans for Greece as part of our European backpacking odyssey. As I’ve previously recounted, he and I were travelling through Western Europe on a Eurail youth ticket. In addition to free train travel, the ticket also provided access to heavily discounted fares for local trains, ferries and buses. This included ferries sailing between Italy and Greece.

Our original plan was to sail from Brindisi, Italy, to the island of Corfu, spend a few days exploring the island, then continue to Patras, Greece. We set aside a week or more for a whirlwind Greek itinerary exploring the nation’s most iconic sights. This included plans to visit Olympia, Athens and possibly a quick dash to one or more islands in the Aegean Sea. If everything went to plan, I’d celebrate my birthday on Santorini or Mykonos.

However, what ultimately unfolded was completely different. We caught an early morning ferry from Corfu on 23 September (my mother’s birthday). The dawn departure gave a brief glimpse of Albania. That's it above. It’s the closest I’ve ever come to visiting this once highly reclusive Communist nation. Three decades later, it’s still on my bucket list. 

We eventually docked in Patras mid-afternoon. As we disembarked, we were greeted by an unexpected cultural experience – one that dramatically transformed our plans. Patras has been Greece’s seafaring gateway to the West for thousands of years. It boasts a busy sheltered port and a well-connected rail network linking it to Athens, the capital, and all points along the Peloponnese peninsula. It was the perfect place to kick off our Greek adventure, or so we thought.

At this point in the story, I need to provide a little context. Dean and I were travelling in an era before the introduction of the Euro. As a result, whenever we crossed a national border, we’d visit a local ATM and make a cash withdrawal. We’d decided early on to manage our finances by loading my VISA credit card with funds. Unlike today, back then, cash withdrawals attracted modest fees while offering a highly competitive exchange rate.

Years later, I recall my father telling me he and Mum used my monthly VISA statement to monitor our progress through Europe. At the time, my VISA card was issued by the Bank of Zealand, and I’d nominated my parents’ home address for receiving monthly statements (which back then were always posted to you). Dad worked at the bank, so he also managed the transfer of any top-up funds that Dean sent across from Australia.

In case an ATM supporting foreign cards was hard to come by, I’d also carry enough banknotes to cover our first day or two of expenses. This approach had served us well until we landed in Patras. However, we hadn’t planned for one of Greece’s popular pastimes. That is, a national strike.

In April 1990, a conservative Government led by Constantine Mitsotakis came to power, introducing a range of austerity measures. Its policies triggered a wave of protest, including nationwide strikes. By the end of 1990, more than 1.4 million people had participated in almost 200 strikes. Of the strikes, 103 were held in the private sector of the economy (both large- and small-scale industry) and 60 in banks, state-run utilities and enterprises.

As luck would have it, Dean and I arrived in Greece during one of these massive strikes. The port was in complete chaos. Banks were shut. ATMs didn’t work. Buses weren’t running. Ferries were cancelled. Supermarkets were running short of essentials. Rubbish was left uncollected. Tourists were flooding the port, desperate to escape Greece.

Our plans for Greece were clearly blown, even more so after discovering the ATMs weren’t operating. A sympathetic supermarket cashier let us pay for groceries with my credit card and included a modest cash withdrawal. This gave us enough money for a few meals and incidentals. We decided to make the most of our limited funds with a quick dash to Olympia on the west coast of the Peloponnese. It was only a few hours away, a genuine tourism hotspot, and close enough to make a quick exit from Greece the following day.

We bought a couple of discounted train tickets and headed out of town. We reached Olympia early evening and checked into the local youth hostel. The following morning, we made our way to the Archaeological Site of Olympia. This is the birthplace of the Olympic Games, a place of worship for Zeus, and a site of art and culture, with roots in Western society.

The partially restored site is situated on the banks of the Alfeiós River, about 18 km inland from the Ionian Sea. For more than a thousand years, the ancient Olympic Games were held here every four years from the 8th century BC to the 4th century AD. Incredibly, the actual games district was uninhabited throughout the year. There were no permanent living structures for spectators. As a result, visitors, rich or poor, made do with tents.

Dean and I spent a full morning touring the ancient site. There are plenty of ruined structures, including at least 70 temples, and dozens of toppled Corinthian pillars to explore. Its most iconic sights include the ruined Temple of Zeus, and of course, the stadium itself.

The stadium is basically a field with start and end lines marked off by transverse stone curbing. The athletes entered under an archway of a vaulted corridor at one end. Spectators sat mainly on the field's sloping flanks. The length of this field became the archaic standard of measure known as a stadion, a metric found in numerous ancient records.

Sadly, the Temple of Zeus is little more than a field of rubble these days, with weathered foundation stones marking its original footprint. The temple once housed a gigantic cedar wood statue of Zeus, finished with gold panels, ivory and precious stones. This 12.4-metre-high masterpiece, which took 13 years to create, was one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. Sadly, nothing remains today. 

Likewise, the nearby Leonidion, or athletes' lodging, is another impressive pile of rubble and fallen pillars. I was surprised to learn that the Olympic Games site was abandoned around 600 AD. In time, it was buried by landslides and flood debris and remained unknown until its rediscovery in 1766 by the English antiquarian Richard Chandler.

On the afternoon of 24 September, we retraced our path back to Patras and purchased tickets for an overnight ferry to Brindisi, Italy. As we waited to board, the lights went out inside the terminal, plunging us into darkness. Any doubts we had about abandoning our Greek itinerary were immediately vanquished.

As we’d done previously, we slept outdoors on the deck of the ferry in the company of other backpackers, waking the following morning to the sight of the Albanian coast. It’s the closest I’ve ever come to visiting this once highly reclusive Communist nation. It’s still on my bucket list. Our ferry finally reached Italy mid-evening where we boarded an overnight train destined for Zurich via Pisa.

However, despite the trials and tribulations of our 36 hours in Greece, one positive thing came of it. The extra week it released on our calendar was subsequently filled with a trip to Morocco, easily the most fascinating place we visited during our entire backpacking odyssey. You can read about our time in Morocco here.

Corfu

In September 1990, I spent four days on the island of Corfu while backpacking around Europe. After exploring Italy’s iconic northern cities, Dean Keiller and I decided to visit Greece. Getting there required us to catch a ferry from Brindisi. The cheapest option included a stop in Kerkira on Corfu. As a result, we decided to get off and spend a few days exploring the island.

The ferry departed Brindisi around 10:00pm and arrived in Corfu the following morning around 7:00am. As we’d done in Norway, Dean and I slept a night outdoors on the deck alongside other backpackers. Upon docking in Kerkira, disembarking passengers were besieged by a swarm of touts offering accommodation on the island. We eventually settled on a campground in Karousadhes on the island’s northern coast.

However, upon arriving at the campground, we discovered the price we’d been quoted on the wharf was misleading, to say the least. Additional charges suddenly appeared, including a transport fee and a tent fee. The price we’d been offered was just a basic site fee. The campground was also rather poorly maintained. The following morning, we returned to Kerkira, where a sympathetic and more humble hotelier invited us to stay at a campground in Dassia. The new location was much closer to the main port and boasted one of Corfu's finest white-sand beaches.

We made the most of our time on the island by hiring a couple of mopeds. Dean’s haggling skills came to the fore, and he secured us a bargain price for a full day’s hire. We took to the road, ultimately traversing more than half the island. The map above shows the ground we covered. Beach after beach, and bay after bay, were breathtakingly beautiful. I’ll let the images below speak for themselves. 

Note that we aren't wearing helmets. In fact, now that I think about it, we didn't have travel insurance either. What can I say? We enjoyed a classic backpacking experience. Although getting out and about allowed us to see the locals in action. As novice travellers, we were fascinated by the donkeys we encountered everywhere. It really was like something from a black-and-white Hollywood classic.

Highlights from our moped tour included the Canal d’Amour (Channel of Love) in Sidari on the island’s north coast. The coastline is famous for a series of Instagram-worthy channels carved into its white limestone cliffs. Supposedly, any couple who swims together in the waters of Canal d’Amour will remain forever in love. Dean and I certainly fell in love with its crystal-clear waters. It was also the perfect spot for a memorable picnic lunch. Did you notice me in the image that opens this post?

We also made it to Paleokastritsa, famous for its picturesque, white-washed monastery. The monastery of the Most Holy Theotokos is one of the oldest in Corfu, dating back to 1225.  Nearby is the equally impressive Angelokastro, a Byzantine castle situated on a prominent headland overlooking the village and its tranquil harbour.  The image above, sourced from the web, gives you a great sense of its unforgettable location. 

The furthest south we rode was Kato Garouna.  The village located here sits on one of the island's highest points. Not far from the road, you're rewarded with the most stunning view of Corfu's west coast and the Ionian Sea.  Another image taken from the web, above, captures the scene perfectly.

We originally planned to spend two full days on Corfu. However, thanks to a rookie mistake, we ended up spending a third day on the island. In essence, we’d forgotten that Greece was an hour ahead of the rest of Western Europe. As a result, we failed to adjust our watches after docking at Kerkira. We didn't discover our mistake until we arrived at the port on September 22, only to find that the ferry had already sailed. If truth be told, we had an early hint that something was amiss after hearing fellow campers around our tent pack up and leave at what seemed to be an ungodly hour of the morning. Little did we know!

However, all wasn’t lost. We decided to make good use of the extra day and used the campground’s coin-operated washing machine to wash our sleeping bags. It was the first time we’d laundered them since arriving in Europe in May. I’d hate to think what microscopic critters and fungi were living it up inside. Although, as you can see below, we got to enjoy a relaxing afternoon siesta under the olive trees.

The one thing that strikes me about this image is the plastic shopping bags sitting around our tent.  I'd forgotten our regular ritual every time we set up camp. We'd always go shopping for supplies to last us for a few days: bread rolls, salad, tomatoes and cheese for lunch, plus a few tinned goods used to pull together an evening meal. Our pup tent was tiny, so we often left our dry goods outside. When I look back now, our campsite must have looked like a garbage dump to other campers.

One final story about our time in Corfu. Greece has a police division dedicated to looking after visitors and tourists. After our first night camping in Karousadhes, we caught a shuttle van back to the main port to find a new campground. It was here that we encountered the deceptive tout who’d misled us the previous day. I took it upon myself to warn disembarking passengers that he was a crook and a fraud.

Let’s just say our dishonest friend didn’t take too kindly to my impromptu warnings. A scuffle soon broke out. In the ensuing melee, he knocked my spectacles to the ground, breaking the frame. I reported him to the local tourist police. I can still recall being interviewed by a slightly bemused officer in a small white-walled office in Kerkira. I have no idea what came of my complaint. This was the pre-Internet era, so it was almost impossible to follow up once we left the island. Fortunately, I was travelling with a spare pair of spectacles, so all wasn’t lost.

Early in the morning, on September 23, we boarded the ferry for Patras in Greece. What followed next was another unexpected encounter with the volatile Greeks. Follow this link to learn more!

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 headed in different directions for a final week of rest and relaxation. Six of us (me, Dean, Dave, Sandy, Michele and Christine) took one of our two minivans and drove 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 are still intact today. 

The nearby Rotunda of Galerius, a circular Roman temple, was an equally impressive sight. It’s a massive masonry structure which, much like the Pantheon in Rome, once featured an oculus. These days its dome is fully enclosed. Over time it’s been used as a mausoleum, a Christian basilica, a Muslim mosque, and again a Christian church (and archaeological site). Faded frescoes still adore its ceiling as you can see in the image above, which I’ve sourced from the web.

Exploring Thessaloniki was kind of mind-blowing. As we wandered, a revered biblical location came to life for the very first time. When you live in the antipodes, ancient history feels mythical by nature. They’re not stories of real places where actual people live. In the decades since, I can’t tell you how many times while traveling I’ve stopped 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 a three-fingered landmass extending south of Thessaloniki into the Aegean Sea. We decided that 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 iconic 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. Every day we swam in the warm azure-blue waters of the Aegean Sea. One afternoon, we hiked over the headlands to soak in breathtaking views of the local coastline. We bought watermelons from a nearby village, filled them with a bottle of Ouzo and feasted on their sweet, aniseed flesh that evening. 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 home with them late afternoon. You can see the herd making itself at home in the image above.

On the afternoon of 3 August, we reluctantly 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 an 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 into 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.

Unfathomable history

We spent our last day in Athens touring an eclectic series of historical sites. Our first stop was the Temple of Zeus. It was once the largest temple in Greece, consisting of 104 Corinthian columns, 17 metres high. Today, only 15 of these columns remain, including one that toppled over during a storm in 1852. The temple’s construction began in the 6th Century, but a lack of funds and ongoing problems with an unstable foundation meant that it wasn’t completed until 131AD.


Hadrian was ruling Athens at the time of its completion. In his typical egotistic manner he installed an enormous statue of himself inside the temple, next to an equally large statue of the temple’s revered deity. Nearby, Hadrian also erected a monumental arch. It neatly divided the city’s ancient Greek quarter from his modern Roman zone. Today, the arch is in a state of poor repair, fenced off from visitors and looking rather forlorn.


Our next stop was the Panathenaic Stadium, the world’s only stadium built completely from marble. It was here in 1896 that the Olympic Games of the modern were first held. The stadium you see today is a faithful reconstruction of an earlier Roman stadium completed during the reign of Hadrian in 139AD. The 2004 Games also used the venue for archery competitions and the Marathon finish. The locals still use it for crowds to welcome home triumphant sporting teams and other prominent individuals.


The venue offered a very informative audio tour during which we learnt that the earlier Roman stadium was actually a redevelopment of Greek venue; the Lykourgos Stadium, built in 330BC. However, the most interesting factoid was an explanation for the word ‘stadium’. The length of the interior track, 185 metres, is an ancient measure known as a stade. We completed our tour by posing on the track for an imaginary roaring crowd of 68,000 people.


Our final stop of the day took us across town via Parliament and Syntagma Square to the National Archaeological Museum. Syntagma, the site of deadly riots four days earlier, was almost empty except for a large flock of pigeons and two traditionally costumed presidential guards. Their costume of ballooning kilts and pom-pom shoes is based on that of freedom fighters that fought in the mountains during the nation’s 19th Century War of Independence.


The national museum was everything we expected. Highlights included the dramatic dark bronze statue of Poseidon with outstretched arms. It dates from 460BC. Equally impressive were the rows of famous Attic black-figured pottery. However, the most surprising exhibit of day for me was the Antikythera Mechanism. This heavily corroded series of bronze cogs and wheels was recovered from a Roman shipwreck in 1900. It proved that the Romans had mastered the manufacture of intricate clockwork devices more than a thousand years before Western Europe.

The device calculated the movements of the moon and the sun across the zodiac using a hand crank. Experts believe it could predict the precise hour of an eclipse on a specific date, and possibly the position of planets on any given day. I recall learning about this device as a child and thus was delighted to unexpected see it with my own eyes for the first time. The advanced sciences of the ancient world continue to astound and astonish me. Visiting Athens proved a very humbling experience indeed.

The Acropolis

We spent most of our first full day in Athens exploring The Acropolis. Without doubt its one of the world’s iconic ancient sites and home to the instantly recognizable Parthenon. The history here is multi-layered and on full display. Incredibly, people have lived on this marble outcrop for more than six thousand years. However, most of its familiar structures arrived in more recent times. The Parthenon, for example, was completed in 438BC, a mere 2,460 years ago.


We made our way up the 150 metre rock face via its southern slope. Here can be found several impressive ruins including the Theatre of Dionysos amphitheatre. In its time this was the largest such complex in ancient Greece, sitting 17,000 over 64 marble-clad tiers. Today, only the bottom 20 tiers have survived, including many of the marble thrones that encircled the terrace’s base. Further along is the recently restored Odeon of Herodes Atticus, a Roman amphitheatre that was once fully enclosed by a wooden roof. It was built in 161AD, more than four hundred years after its neighbouring Greek arena.


A slow climb took us up to the dramatic colonnade gateway that guards entry to the summit of the Acropolis. The Propylaia as its known is an impressive sight. It was completed in 432BC after five years of construction. The structure stood undisturbed until the 17th Century when a lightning strike exploded gunpowder recklessly stored in its main hall by the occupying Ottoman Turks. Most of its marble pillars and portions of the roof have been subsequently restored.


Restoration work continues today across the Acropolis site funded in large part by UNESCO. For example the Temple of Athena Nike that stands to the right of the Propylaia was clad in scaffolding the day we visited as was the entire northern façade of the Parthenon. Incredibly, computer-controlled carving tools are sculpting replacement marble pieces that fit perfectly with the surviving ancient marble. It’s the ultimate 3D jigsaw puzzle.


The Parthenon itself is every bit as magnificent as you’d imagine it to be. The current structure was built on the site of at least four earlier temples. Built entirely of white Pentelic marble, it’s the largest Doric temple ever constructed in Greece. I was astonished to learn that the entire building and its marble artwork was completed in only nine years. It was officially opened in 438BC. Much like it neighbouring marble gateway, the structure suffered at the hands of the Turks when a single cannon shot fired in 1687 exploded gunpowder stored inside.


The Parthenon shares its summit location with another impressive structure, the Erechtheon. This is a multi-facaded marble temple, built on several levels on the northern rim of the Acropolis. It’s most famous façade consists of six marble maidens, the Caryatids, who support a small porch roof balanced on their heads. The sculptures you see on site are copies. The originals are now on display in the new Acropolis Museum. You can see the museum and a huge swathe of the expansive Athens’ skyline from a dramatic observation terrace built into the eastern wall of the Acropolis.


Mid-afternoon we made our way back down the hill to visit the Greek Agora, or meeting and administrative district of the ancient city. The site includes three main structures; the restored colonnaded Stoa of Attalos, the red brick Church of the Holy Apostles and the dramatic Temple of Hephaestus. This temple is the best preserved Doric temple in Greece; a mini version of the Parthenon. We were told by a guide that it’s often used to portray the Parthenon by period dramas that film in Athens.


Our final stop of the day was the Acropolis Museum. It’s an architectural masterpiece, designed to house artifacts from the Parthenon and its marble neighbours. It’s also a rather blunt political statement. The top floor of the museum has been reserved for displaying the Elgin Marbles, intricate marble friezes that once adorned the top of the Parthenon. They were removed by Lord Elgin, the British ambassador in 1801 and are currently displayed in the British Museum (see an earlier photo taken in London below).


For decades the UK refused to return these ‘stolen’ artifacts claiming Greece had nowhere safe and climate-controlled in which to preserve them. Of course, the new museum now makes a complete mockery of this claim. The British refuse to return what rightfully belongs in Greece. I add my voice to others who believe it’s time for the British to hand them back.

Room with a view

Just a short post to share photos of the incredible views from our hotel in Athens. We stayed at the Athens Gate Hotel, a short walk from the base of the Acropolis and the stunning new Acropolis Museum which opened in 2007. We could see both sights with ease from the hotel's rooftop terrace where we enjoyed cocktails and dinner on our first evening (see above), followed by a hearty breakfast each day (see below).


Our hotel room offered an equally majestic view in the opposite direction, offering a ring-side view of the Temple of Zeus and nearby Hadrian Arch. At first I was disappointed we'd not received an Acropolis view. However, an east-facing room proved to be a bonus as our balcony was shaded in the afternoon and thus offered a cool respite from the intense Greek sun.


The hotel also came to the party on our second day in Athens, encouraged us to make good use of our balcony. It offered us a complimentary bottle of wine to atone for any inconvenience we'd experienced during the previous day's street protest. We enjoyed a pleasant couple of hours sipping local red and contemplating the engineering prowess of the ancient Romans.