Figapalooza!

They're here! They're here!! After months of watching these lovely treasure troves of tastiness plump up on the thousands of trees we have cycled past they are finally ready for picking. They are well worth every minute of waiting.

I would have been a maenad

As we ride along the foot of Dionysus' sacred Mt Panageum, I watch the olives get plumper and anticipate the wine we will sample from this ancient wine producing soil. I also wonder if we are in maenad territory yet. These mad women, who were attendants in the cult of Dionysus, were rumoured to wander somewhere in this region. As I studied my ancient myths, I always enjoyed the image of these ancient Greek women who managed to escape the yoke of their mundane existence (chained to their looms and other household duties) to run about the hills in troops of wild, wine drinking, scantily dressed pleasure seekers. I'm sure that I would have been a maenad if I were a woman born to ancient Greece.

Agia Pareskevi

The first time Basil came to a halt outside a tiny whitewashed roadside building I was somewhat annoyed at the inconvenience of having my beautiful (and much deserved) wide open mountain descent so suddenly interrupted. I was also puzzled because Basil is not one to drag me around showing me architecture and is even less likely to stop to inspect a building that comes with any crosses attached. Intrigued, I hopped off my bike and followed him in to the most unexpectedly miniature and fully byzantine place of worship.

The rich colours of the gilded interior and the somber faces of the orthodox faith's endless team of saints blazed forth like found treasure when the door to this humble building was opened. It was impossible for me to imagine how such an insignificant and out of the way place could be so lovingly maintained. When Basil told me that Greece is covered with such places I was instantly in love with this aspect of the Greek Orthodox faith.

We have found refuge at dozens of tiny Greek Orthodox churches all over Greece. Opening the doors of such places is like peering in to a stranger's jewelery box. Each one is uniquely beautiful and full of stories and sentimental attachment that will take a lifetime for me to even begin to understand. Slowly I am learning their stories and for now I will begin with the story of Pareskevi - Saint Friday.

Pareskevi was born in Rome in 140 AD to wealthy Greek Christian parents. She was raised in a very loving and charitable home, but her parents died when she was twenty. With this turn of events, she donated most of her parents wealth to the poor, scorned many offers of marriage and devoted herself to teaching the way of Christ. Now, this was not a popular choice at this time as followers of this new faith were heavily persecuted. With this choice, death imminent for young Pareskevi, but on she trudged.

Captured and tortured several times, her seeming immunity to the pain of her torture won many converts. On one such occasion, she was accused of using witchcraft to cool the vat of boiling oil and tar she had been lowered into. Her response was to fling a handful of the boiling liquid at the emperor Antonius blinding him. She stepped out of the vat and proclaimed that only the Christian God could cure him and his sight was instantly returned.

Astounded by the miracle she was freed and Christain persecution ended for the remainder of his life. She was eventually beheaded under the reign of Emperor Marcus Aurelius and today is considered the healer of the blind.

We discovered the small church (pictured above) devoted to her by a poor and elderly woman after having several visions of Pareskevi. She was told that if she dug next to the plane tree at this location she would find water and that she should build a church next to this spot. With it's delicious running water, view of the sea, and quiet setting, for us, it proved to be an irresistible place to stop and spend the night.

glass, smalti, and pebbles

How Christian mosaics began and where they're at today...Here is a sample of glass mosaic from a village at the foot of Mt Olympus, a modern smalti mosaic mural found outside a church in Kavala, and some lovely early Christian pebble mosaics from Philippi. Lucky dog that gets to wander through the fence and lay on that gorgeous ancient floor.

Unanticipated Amphipolis

Ever heard of Amphipolis?

The Strimonas river valler threw our map into a tizzy. There were no roads where webs of roads were indicated on our map. For forty extra kilometers we cycled south towards the coast when really we wanted to cross the damn unbridgeable river and get our asses to Kavala. Asking for help we kept being directed to keep straight and turn left at the lion. The lion was where we could cross the river.

Well, some lion it was! Just sitting there being all unexpectedly HUGE! Our guide book made no mention of a gargantuan lion. It stopped mentioning anything at all back in Pella and, in fact, had little to say about the rest of our mainland trip. So, I buried the guide at the bottom of my pannier and we cycled on. Looking for directions we found ourself at the site museum for ancient Amphipolis.

Amphipolis got it's start as a satellite Athenian city. It served as a fortification to block invading Persian troops and, most importantly, to supply Athens with a steady supply of silver and gold from the neighbouring Mt Panageum. Amphipolis later supplied Alexander with many of his commanders (the lion is rumoured to be the tomb of one such commander) and it was also the launching point for Alexander's ships. With the rise of the Romans, the Via Egnatia transportation route passed through here on its way between Rome and Constantinople. The Byzantine Empire also outfitted her with some lovely pebble mosaics which remain buried on-site.

The things you find when you put the guide book away and let fate take you where it may....

Refuelling

I know I talk a lot about food, but it is my gasoline so I really treasure it. Besides it is so much more interesting than dead dinosaurs. So, this is a particularly lovely snack that Basil and I shared. The fusion of these stewed chick peas, marinated aubergine salad, and lovely grilled local mushrooms was one we will be recalling to our memory tastebuds for a long time. We also added an order of garlicky tzatziki and a jug of retsina to the flavour extravaganza. Marry all of this with some psomi horiatiki and you just won't want the refeulling session to end.

Thorny Snails

The wild landscape of Greece is a little prickly. You must always watch where you step unless you want to end up with socks full of burrs or calves full of nasty scratches and microscopic thorns. The environment is particulary unfriendly to lycra bike shorts. I tried to imagine the ancient Greeks flitting through the mountains in their strappy leather sandals and their little skirts (yum, think of King Leonidas in the movie 300). I guess the ancient Greeks and these snails had something in common.

Big Broad Macedonia

After watching the grades get increasingly steeper through the Pelloponnese and Evia we found ourselves laughing heartily at the "10%" grades Macedonia alerts drivers to at almost every hill. 10% is for sissies. Okay the 40+ temperatures make it a tad challenging, but 10% grade? Why are they even posting that? Nobody posted the 14, 15, 18 or 22% we have seen up to this point.

A good amount of gently rolling valleys sweep across a large part of Macedonia. I don't usually think of the term "Big Sky" as being characteristic of Greece, but there we were in the middle of Greece's bread basket surrounded by just that. Hills must come as a shock to these people who don't live with the mountains in quite the same way the rest of Greece does. Life in this part of Macedonia is all tractors and large scale agriculture. And it is mighty remarkable just how fast a tractor can go with a Greek farmer at the helm.

I was proudly told that Macedonia is Greece's California. Their agricultural role and use of labour from outside perhaps resembles California, but I think the comparisons stop there. Californians might not unearth the same quantity of Dionysian temples in their fields, Mount Olympus doesn't watch Californian hired Mexicans while they till the soil, and Alexander the Great didn't march across California in his mission to conquer the world.

Ponti Route Feud

Always looking for the lowest traffic roads we turned north and headed into the town of Palea Agioneri. Our hearts skipped when we saw that it was market day. It is always a treat to scour through local markets to see what new tasty treats might turn up.

We also needed to make some decisions about our route. Basil made the enjoyable mistake of pulling out our map in front of a popular fruit vendor. The helpful citizens of Palea Agioneri almost come to blows discussing which route would be best for us. One man wanted us to take the fastest, another the easiest, another the one that goes through his village. As the volume of the discussion rose, I stood back and watched the arms waving and the insults flying and the speechless Basil in the middle of it all. One of the fruit vendors smiled as he saw me staring in amazement at the route feud we had started by rolling in to town and pulling out our map. At the conclusion he leaned over and whispered, "Now you know how it is in a Ponti town". Sinking my teeth into the delicious local peach from the fruit stand, I couldn't help but wonder, "Why is it that the group that is always at the butt of a culture's jokes is always by far the most enjoyable"?

Alexander's Pella

Leaving Thessaloniki to make our way east into Thrace, we went a little off course and headed west towards Pella to the birthplace of Alexander the Great. I couldn't resist the chance to see pebble mosaics that were over 2000 years old. The setting of Pella is somewhat unremarkable...flat plain loaded with commercial agriculture and with a very busy highway running right through the middle of it. It seems almost ridiculous that Alexander was born there, but the mosaics are really incredible. I love to imagine little baby Alexander crawling around drooling on them. It was difficult to resist the urge to touch the mosaics displayed in the museum or to jump over the rope to lay on the ones left in their original setting outside, but, alas, I will have to settle for making my own lovely pebble floor mosaic myself one day. Having seen my mosaics, we turned and began our meandering bike ride east towards Turkey.

BOUGATSA!

Bougatsa! It beckons you from cafe windows as you ride through town. Bougatsa, its layers of crisp pastry and its warm pudding filling call out just begging to be sampled and compared to that first Bougatsa to end all bougatsas. This deliciously hypnotic and flat out addictive treat is Macedonia's king pastry. Thank everyone's Gods that we are cycling and get to guiltlessly sample them in the most random of places.

Hello Mt Olympus

Okay, so we didn't cycle to Mt. Olympus and I certainly hope to do so one day, but the road from Thessaloniki is entirely unpleasant and I simply could not be so close to the abode of the Olympian gods and not stop in for a "peek". We scored a surprisingly unhazy day that allowed us to witness Greece's tallest peak in all her glory.

MMMMMMarket

One of the most impressive olive displays I have seen yet could be smelled long before it was seen. The Modiano market sector still carries the name of it's Jewish roots and is hands down the best market we have seen yet in Greece. Yes those'd be the first fresh figs! We'll be picking them off the trees in no time!

Thessaloniki with E

I can't imagine what I will do if one day Elisabeth gives up her life working for the airlines. Over the years she has jumped into my patchwork life regardless of what strange place I am calling home... everything from my bicycle to Doha, Qatar. She always finds a way to manage a few days to visit and inevitably manages to run some last minute emergency lifesaving or entirely indulgent errand before she comes. I treasure her visits and pray that she continues to be the time management master that she truly is. We were fortunate enough to enjoy a few decent meals and idle coffee breaks between our Thessaloniki meanderings. I hope she'll forgive me for the mastic episode.