Ode to a Grecian Cheese Pie

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Thou still unravish’d pie of deliciousness,

Thou foster-child of Feta and slow Time

Sylvan chef, who canst thus express

A culinary tale more sweetly than our rhyme:

What pilates-trained Americans run at the sound of thy name,

Seeking Angioplasties or EKG’s, or both,

From Cardiologists in the dales of Johns Hopkins?

What men or gods are these? What maidens loth?

What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?

The hitherto unknown pastry promise of wild ecstasy.

(My apologies to the genius that was John Keats)

© 2009 – 2011, Ithaka Bound. All rights reserved. Text and images copyright protected.

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Eye of the Beholder

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Lonely Planet describes Ioannina this way: ” …fast becoming one of Greece’s most happening cities….a bustling commercial and cultural center…set on placid Lake Pamvotis, Ioannina has an idyllic setting and an evocative old quarter…the city is becoming a real treat for epicureans…”

Don’t believe the hype.

I became ill (headache, nausea) on the bus from Metsovo and was forced to make a pit stop in Ioannina.  The Lonely planet description sounded pretty good, so…

These photographs represent my lasting impression of Ioannina.  The lake in the background–described as placid–seemed more like a stagnant, brackish, green, amoeba-ridden backwater to me.

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Discarded Amstel cans add pretty accents to the tableau

Poor Ioannina has been defending itself from attacks since the 6th century, so this is where mine will end.

This reminds me of two different descriptions I read of the Omonia neighborhood in Athens, where I stayed my first few days in Greece:

From Lonely Planet: “…despite efforts to tart it up, (Omonia) is still seedy.  The square has become a popular meeting point for the city’s undesirable elements….The area to the northwest of Omonia probably rates as the sleaziest part of Athens…notorious for prostitutes and addicts.”

From National Geographic Traveler: “…there are busy cafes where you can soak up the real Athens atmosphere.  And as a landmark for negotiating the city, Omonia can’t be beat….If Syntagma is the European face of Athens, then Omonia is quite definitely the Balkan/Middle Eastern face.  It is loud and bustling, full of traders and cheap goods, and emphatically full of life…. At night (Omonia) becomes Athens equivalent of an older Times Square or London’s Soho.”

This fascinates me because I believe that both summaries were a sincere assessment of the reviewers’ experiences of Omonia.  How little or how much, I wonder, was needed to sway an opinion this way or that?  Did the National Geographic reviewer fall in love in Omonia?  Did the Lonely Planet writer get swindled?  Was my opinion of Ioannina influenced by my lack of Dramamine, or was it built into my plumbing and wiring?

I mentioned in an earlier post that I’ve never understood how anyone couldn’t love Venice, my favorite city.  It’s unfathomable to me not to be giddy over the jewel in the crown, the dazzling collection of bounty from countless other empires, the Bellini Madonnas, the Piazza San Marco at midnight, the beautiful floating dream in which you get to walk on water.  How?  I’ll never understand it, and that’s the crux of it isn’t it?

Thomas Wolfe went on and on about how we can never truly know our brother, and  never truly be known by another human being.  But today I feel like if we could only  understand why Omonia or Ioannina appeal to some and not to others, we might be able to solve all the world’s problems.

Only then.

Going out for gelato now…

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Metsovo, Land of the Vlach

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Metsovo: land of the Vlach.

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If your vision of Greece is a tranquil mountain town where young and old gather in the central square at dusk, and everything comes to life–life as it was 100 years ago–Metsovo just may be your nirvana.

The Vlach are descendants of Roman legionnaires who were sent here in ancient times to guard the mountain passes.  They were originally shepherds who led a nomadic existence throughout central and eastern Europe, traveling to wherever they could find the best grazing for their sheep.  Today, they’ve settled into flower-loving stone houses and no longer roam the countryside.

The Vlach speak their own Arromanian language, heavily influenced by latin and Italian, and they’re extremely hospitable and friendly.

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It seems wherever I go in Greece, children like the boy below, wait on me in restaurants, serve me my coffee, and ring me up in stores and bakeries.  The all seem so capable.

Businesses in Greece are almost all private or family owned.

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The bus from Meteora to Metsovo didn’t actually stop in Metsovo, it stopped 4 km outside of town, on the side of a highway.  The bus driver looked distraught when I asked him if there was a taxi nearby.  I was the only passenger pazza enough to get off on the side of a highway.  The poor bus driver didn’t know what to do, he had a hard time leaving me, but he also had a busload of passengers.

Then a lady driving a fruit and vegetable truck stopped and asked me if I needed a ride into town.  The bus driver and I both thanked her profusely. We finagled my massive suitcase over her peppers and beans and  she drove me into freakin’  Brigadoon.

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The elderly carry on the old ways but (as everywhere) traditional dress will die out with these 70 and 80 year-olds.

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Go soon.

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Meteora

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I still needed my mountain fix, so Meteora was my first stop.

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Summer may just be the wrong time for Meteora.  I visited Meteora in November, before I ran the marathon in Athens some years back, and it was a much better experience all around.

It just doesn’t seem right to sound dissatisfied with such a magical place, so I’ll offer this up for those who might stumble upon this blog while planning a trip to Greece:  skip Meteora in the summer.  You’ll have to contend with scorching temperatures and noise pollution like you wouldn’t believe.

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People, the noise was deafening!

Look at those pictures again.  Now add a soundtrack:  scooters skeeching by, trucks pounding down the road, cars, cars, and more cars, add a jackhammer or two and you’ll know  why I couldn’t sleep for two nights.  Even at 02:00 in the morning, it was an assault on the ears.

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Go in winter when all is quiet, serene, and cool, and you’ll feel like you’re in J.R.R. Tolkien country.

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Thwarted…

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…by Mother Nature and my own lack of planning.

Mt. Olympus wasn’t on my original itinerary; I decided to make the detour to Olympus when I realized it was only a couple hours from Volos, where I’d be spending the night after leaving the Sporades. Unfortunately, I lack all the necessary gear to make a successful trek: hiking boots, wet weather gear, sleeping bag.

I’ve spent the past six weeks looking for boots, but they’re a seasonal item here and sold only in winter. I considered getting heavy sneakers but since the snow on Olympus has only just melted and the biggest danger to hikers is slippery rocks on a trail that — according to what I’ve read — becomes dangerously narrow at times and takes a life every year or so, I think it best to wait. Also, to reach the very top — which I would have to do to feel like I had summited Olympus — rock scrambling is required for the last 100 meters or so. I need sturdy boots. I’d hate not to make it due to a poor footwear choice.

Mt. Olympus takes two days (six hours each way) to scale and an overnight stay on the mountain is required. There are a couple of dorm-style mountain refuges to house people on the mountain, but if those are full I’d have to camp out. It’s just too much gear for me to buy and then lug around for the rest of my trip.

So, I will put Mt. Olympus, the Pelion Peninsula, and Macedonia on my calendar for next August. I like that idea better than rushing things now, what with my flip flops and all. The Olympian gods will just have to wait.

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