Nice to Grice, sorry, Greece.

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Day 3 (Jan 28th):
Nice was saturated with clear sunshine and within five minutes of leaving the hostel I had to return and drop off my coat because I was too hot! I made my way to the promenade and stood looking at the Mediterranean. There is something about the atmosphere in Nice which makes me feel really good. It could be the clear sunshine everywhere, or maybe the sea air, or just the happy liveliness of the place. It just makes me feel content somehow.
I explored the streets of Nice including the hill at the end of the beach and the marina beyond it. In the evening I went for a walk with Victoria, the russian girl, who told me that she'd spent five years studying a course in publishing and then, finding no work in Russia, began another five-year course, this time in urban planning. She admitted it seemed crazy to spend ten years studying!

Day 4 (Jan 29th):
I took a train north to an italian town in the lower Alps called Cuneo, and then a second train to Torino (Turin). The Alps were all decorated with snow making the small villages we passed through seem particularly isolated.
In Turin I found the nearest hostel and checked in. There I met Newton who was a Brazilian who studied international law in China, and in Chinese! Some people deliberately make their lives difficult!
I had chosen to make a diversion to Turin because I had passed through there in 2000 while hitch-hiking home from Venice, and have wanted to see more of it ever since. The streets are pleasantly wide, giving the city a feeling of spaciousness, and the buildings are various hues of terracotta and often richly decorated. There are tree-lined boulevards and frequently you come across pretty piazzas (squares) with water fountains and sometimes an open-air market. The whole city feels very orderly and proud, yet laid back and beautiful.

Day 5 (Jan 30th):
In the morning I explored Turin. I met a shop-girl who taught me some italian and enthused about her city. I found the only surviving Roman city gate, of which there were originally four, dating from 25 B.C. The Romans were absolute masters of architecture as the towers either side of the gateway were, perhaps, ten-sided, and each facet was absolutely flat, and its vertical edges perfectly parallel. And it had stood like this for over 2000 years!
I came across a street market and bought some fruit and bread, taking the opportunity to practise my very basic Italian; it's surprising how quickly you can remember and learn new words when you try to use them every day! I also visited an exhibition about the Italian Resistance in WWII and life in the P.O.W. camps; it was all in Italian but I got the gist of it.
With the assistance of a helpful beggar I bought a train ticket to Verona, changing at Milan (20 Euros). On the second train I got talking to a woman from Soave, home of the white wine*. She spoke a little english and so it was perfect for me to attempt speaking italian as she helped me fill in the gaps, and I did the same for her with her english. When I asked if she knew of a Youth Hostel (Ostello della Gioventu) in Verona, she didn't, but she phoned her friend, then her mother and then her brother to find out for me!
As I walked into Verona I felt so lucky that I'd decided to stop there because it was so pretty. Some backpackers in the preceding days had recommended me not to stop there, but to go straight to Venice. If I had taken that advice though I would have missed the enchanting Piazza Erbe; the central market square surrounded by balcony-fronted buildings, some of which are adorned with ageing frescos, and one building faced with elaborate stonework. Of all Verona's delights though, I was most impressed with the Duomo (cathedral) who's colourful layered brickwork and multiple arches above its entrance really moved me.
I found the hostel and met Ben, an american studying economics and law in Verona; and Jeremy, an english lad also studying law, but not in Verona. I seem to be meeting a lot of law students.

*Sam and I know this wine as 'Dave' because if you rotate the bottle so that the 's' and half the 'o' are hidden, that is what it appears to say.

Day 6 (Jan 31st):
I climbed the hill behind the hostel to the site of an old castle where I had an early morning view of the city. It was quite misty, but I could see the array of red roof tops, several towers and a few bridges crossing the river which takes the form of a wide bend surrounding most of the town. Behind me on either side were hills on which I could see the silhouettes of fortified walls against the rising sun.
I went back down into the town and explored its streets some more, including a courtyard where what has been branded 'Juliet's Balcony' is found, although it is actually an adapted sarcophagus. Appropriate given what happens in the story I suppose!
Around lunchtime I took a train to Venice (11 Euros). This was my eighth train! In Venice I found the port and bought a ticket for the ferry to Greece (50 Euros) departing at 7pm. I spent a little time in the watery town, mainly finding food to keep me alive on the 24-hour boat journey ahead.
I boarded the ferry at 6pm, but we did not set sail at 7pm as scheduled as the area was clouded in fog and the harbour master would not let us go until conditions improved. We were still in the harbour when I found a quiet corner to sleep in at 1am.

Day 7 (Feb 1st):
I awoke after a good sleep on an ANEK Ferries carpet. I looked out of a window at 9.30 fully expecting to see the sea drifting by, but instead was severely disappointed to find myself seeing exactly the same scene as the night before: Venice Harbour! I had dared to hope that the fog would have lifted by the morning and that we would be on our way by now. The fog was still thick though, and I wondered how many days I might spend as a prisoner on this ship detained in Venice Harbour. At 1 o'clock though, an announcement was made (all announcements were fivefold: in italian, greek, french, german, and english) and thankfully we started moving. We had been on the boat for 19 hours and hadn't gone anywhere! I went out onto the deck and watched the picturesque old buildings of Venice passing by exactly as many a sailor must have done for at least five centuries.

Day 8 (Feb 2nd):
I had originally intended to sail to Patras, but I decided to get off at the ferry's only other destination which I hadn't previously known about: Igoumenitsa. This is where people cross from the mainland to Corfu, but a couple I met who chartered boats there told me that there would be no cheap accomodation there at this time of year, so I decided to keep on heading in the direction of Egypt. I took a bus through a landscape of bare, rocky, mountains to Ioaninna (7Euros) where I had a three hour wait for my next bus. I explored this small town which had some old fortifications and stood on the edge of a large lake. While sitting eating at the lakeside I witnessed the beginning of a large fire on the far edge of the lake which gradually spread sidewards and seemed very fierce and out of control. It was too far away to see what was burning, but I found out later that it was the deliberate burning of wheat, or some cereal crop.
I asked a woman in the street for the quickest way back to the bus station, and she insisted on giving me a lift there. She was german and spoke no english, so I really had to strain my brain to remember the very little Deutsch I know. That was expected!
I took my next bus, which was to Kalambaka, and had an interesting chat with a greek girl (I was the only non-greek on the bus, just as on the first one) who was studying philosophy at Ioaninna. I commented that it was the most appropriate country to be studying it in. I arrived in Kalambaka at 10pm and after some searching found a simple room to rent for 20 Euros.

Day 9 (Feb 3rd):
I had come to Kalambaka because I was impressed by the photos that Gareth and Clare showed me last year after they had been here. The area is remarkable for its very tall, steep-sided rocks which have centuries-old monasteries built at their tops. I wanted to see them, and hopefully climb some.
However, this was the day, Saturday, that I had my first real taste of greek inefficiency, or inconvenience. With some difficulty I found the site of the tourist office (there are no signs for anything useful) only to find a notice saying: Tourist Office NOT HERE! 'Great' I thought. It would be helpful if they could say where it is rather than where it isn't. I then found a faded map of the town in the window of the ex-tourist office. It had been written on in biro which had also faded, but I could just see the indentations of the pen. It seemed to show the whereabouts of the new tourist office, but when I found it, a man using another part of the building there told me that it was closed at the weekend. 'Come back Monday' he said, and then returned to talking into the phone in his hand before I could ask him anything else. With some persistence in a town full of generally unhelpful people I found out that there was a path leading up out of the town to one of the rock-top monasteries.
After a fairly steep ascent of maybe an hour I came in site of Trinity Monastery (Ag. Triada). In more recent times a path had been cut into the side of the giant rock on which it stood enabling people to ascend without ropes. Once at the top I passed through a simple, neat garden and into the monastery itself. A rope and pulley system were still in position at the edge of one room, and an intricately painted chapel adjoined another. The complex was very well looked after. I tried to talk with the man who looked after the place, but as he only spoke greek and spanish it was quite difficult, although I did learn a bit of greek from him.
Apparantly this monastery was used in the James Bond film, For Your Eyes Only.
I then traversed the high ground to a good viewpoint overlooking the town of Kalambaka, which is backed by a range of mountains, some of which were snow-topped. I then saw that I was close to another monastery, bigger than Ag. Triada. This was Saint Stephen's Monastery and was accessed via a footbridge from the hillside to the rock. I did not see monks though, but Nuns. This monastery had a central courtyard, a museum displaying religious objects including some manuscripts apparantly dating from the 6th century, and a chapel. The walls inside the chapel were in the process of being painted with traditionally Christian themes. The paintings completely covered the walls and were vividly colourful and skilfully executed. I woz imprest.

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