Dhimitsana

The mountain towns of Arcadia Andritsena, Karitena, Stemnitsa, and Dhimitsana are spectacularly set little gemstones that hang above the southern half of the Peloponnese peninsula and ar home to quiet mountain getaways filled with tightly packed cobbled streets and lazy street side cafes. Whiling away a few days in Dhimitsana, I can't help but wonder what it is that the locals do for money. Surely they aren't all shepherds and bee keepers. It would be easy to think they are given the amount of honey being sold and the quantity of distant goat bells heard when cycling this route. Lined with yellow broom blossoms, the road from Karitena to Dhimitsana is easily the most civilized uphill grade in all the Peloponnese.

Sleepless in Greece

If there was any swine flu in me then the winds that whipped the Arkadian coastline yesterday have surely blown it right out of me. Mounting our heavily laden steeds to wheel away from the hospitality of our beloved friends Helen and Christopher in Xiropigado, the wind that welcomed us was even more defeating than relearning to push an impressively loaded bike up a mountain. So,we rode to the next town for a looong lunch.


Pork chops were a popular choice amongst the local diners. Clearly the fear of swine flu had not struck nearly as hard as CNN would like or as deeply as it had stung me. I'm not usually one to jump on board with global paranoia, but having just spent the better part of the last month getting from Mexico to Greece in one of the most circuitous routes I've ever travelled, I was a smidge concerned. Seven airports, 6 buses, a ferry, and a handful of NYC subway trips I had quite the potential to either infect or be infected by a lot of people. My last day in an airport and on a bus was the day the WHO announcement went out. Miraculously I felt fine which is rare after anything more than one flight or one long bus ride. Since I met Mexico my immune system has become such that I will pick up any lurking, cold, flu, salmonella, e coli, amebiasis, or typhoid that crosses my path.

So, several days have passed and I haven't been taken by swine flu. Therefore, Atlanta, Denver, Salt Lake City, San Francisco, Victoria, Vancouver, Seattle, New York, Athens, and Xiropigado are free of Swine Flu a la Alix.






And now on to more important things...

I have been reminded that one of my favourite rides in Greece is along the coast between Xiropigado and Leonidio. Here the stony mountains of coastal Arkadia plunge dramatically into the Argholikos Gulf. Settlements nestle themselves onto any narrow slip of land afforded by the tight relationship between mountains and sea. Greek fishing boats have been replaced by apartments and homes tacked into impossible places with the hopes of luring the dollars that come with holiday getaways. Our road hugs the water dazzling us with precipitous drops and smooth curves. I am thrilled to be sleeping outside again even if my EXPED mattress has failed me for the fifth time and my new MONTBELL down sleeping bag seems to be missing some strategic down. Fortunately, the night my EXPED mattress failed, it was warm enough for my flimsy MONTBELL Down Hugger #5 sleeping bag and all my clothes to allow me to catch barely a few winks. I can't say the same for when overnight temps get down to 8C. The mattress still holds but the threat of another seam blowout is unsettling and the sleeping bag....grr@*!#RR!

Delicious thistle buds

Sitting in the passenger seat of Christofer's car I squint to make out what the familiar shapes were that were nearly bursting out of the back of the rickety old pick up in front of us. Artichokes! A whole truck full of artichokes! I can't believe my eyes. I remembered seeing these spartan looking plants in Kevin's garden years back, but to see so many spilling out of the back of an old pickup seemed absurd to me. 2 Euros buys me about 15 massive artichokes and a lot more work than I anticipate, but well worth every second.

Lemons, I've got lemons

I've mentioned in the past the whole lemon and lime debacle in Mexico. Now, Mexico calls limes lemons which in my mind is criminal because a lime is a lime and a lemon is a lemon and they both have their own magic - so stop trying to pass one off as the other! With one taste of the lemons that come fresh off the tree hanging in Helen's garden in Xiropigado, no self-respecting Mexican could ever go back to calling a lime a lemon. And when that day comes Christofer is ready to build a lemon empire in lemon deprived Mexico. For now I propose, simple breakfast of fresh squeezed lemonade with a bowl of strained yogurt smothered in fir honey and topped with almonds and a squeeze of lemon? So simple. So delightful! A natural accompaniment would be a little side dish of Zorba.

Arriving Xiropigado

What a lovely thing it is, after nearly a month of mishap filled travel, to arrive at Helen's Apartments in Xiropigado and to discover that there is still a little bit of Greek Easter left in Helen's ceramic bunny basket. A double surprise were the Easter dinner leftovers on my plate. Thanks to Helen and Christopher for hosting me in my obscenely sleep deprived and jet lagged state.

Helen's Apartments

Be it temporarily or permanently, everyone who touches our life changes us in some way. After 3 weeks with them in Xiropigado, Helen and her son Christopher have changed my life in ways that I will take with me for the rest of it.

One day, after the fourth pass of the mop, I managed to ask Helen, why so many times? Naturally, she responded that she wanted her apartments to be beautiful, and that they definitely are. From the second you step onto their property you know that the entire place has been tended to with a heart full of love. This same spirit extends to everyone who pass through their lives. I leave Helen's Apartments with so much more than a wonderfully satisfied belly and spirit, I feel like I have added some cherished family members to my life. Thank you so much Helen and Christopher! Your generosity is truly unparalleled.

Pan's Arcadia

There is a beautiful stretch of road that runs through the villages of Skotini, Vitini, Dhimitsana, and Stemnitsa. It is the most mountainous section of Arcadia. In ancient times, while the rest of Greece was warring with itself and everyone else, this region remained blissfully isolated. Giddy with brooks, lush forests, and steep mountains, the Arcadians stacked their beautiful stone houses against the hills. Around the hearth in these homes, they spun tales of Pan and Heracles. As you pedal down the road taking it all in, it is easy to feel as though you might still catch a glimpse of Pan chasing a wood nymph through the forest beside you.

Xiropigado

A small village of 700 or so clings to a steep hillside of the Argolian coast in a place known as Xiropigado. The beach is of pebbles, the water is every shade of blue, and existance is very sleepy. Many eek out an living renting domatia to Athenian weekenders and stray foreigners. Some grow olive or citrus trees. Others seem to earn a living cruising the village's two or three streets on their noisy motorbikes. I am passing my time swimming and torturing the locals with pantomime peppered with the ocassional poorly pronounced greek word. Basil will return soon and our adventure will continue.

Steep Curves

The grades are continuous and steep in Greece (14% - yikes!). Sometimes you might wonder just how old the village is that your headed to, and just when it was that they invented switchbacks. But this is what brings the curves and the exhilarating views that motivate you over the next mountain. It's also what justifies your impressive appetite.

Counting goats

Goats are sassy and unpredictable, and, when in the Peloponnese, they are all around you. At any given time you can hear hundreds of tiny bells jingling in the distance. One night, we slept (Basil not so well) to the constant jingling of thousands of bells. What a treat it was to awake to a parade of anxious goats making their way past the front door of our tent and into the corral behind us to be milked.

The quantity and quality of locally produced Greek yogurt gives testimony to hard work of a tradition that is still very present in this region of Greece. I'm happy to say that there are young shepherds too, and even though the tradition has evolved, there is still a sense of ancient wisdom and respect for the land. Maybe the world needs more goats and sheep on the roads.