Advertisement
Published: January 4th 2023
The fox knows many things, but the hedgehog knows one big thing… ~ Greek Proverb
HE SAID... Today we were travelling southwest from Nafplio to
Kardamyli (via
Kalamata).
We woke early and headed down to Hotel Agamemnon’s bright, open and relatively empty breakfast area. I started the day with Greek yoghurt and muesli, fresh bread and jam, and many cups of tea. We were leaving Nafplio, and there was more than a hint of sadness in the air.
We climbed the hotel’s wide spiral staircase to our first-floor room and relaxed on our small balcony for one last time, looking out over the picturesque Argolic Gulf. The boats moored below us were bobbing up and down in the breeze. The morning sun was catching the brickwork of Bourtzi, the small island fortress in the middle of Nafplio harbour. People were walking their dogs. Cats were waking from naps and looking for food. Tourists were exploring the promenade. Nafplio is such a calm, serene, relaxing and atmospheric place (or at least the old city area is).
We left Nafplio at 9am, and it took quite some time for our minibus to escape the protective and far-reaching shadows of Palamidi Fortress. The old castle stands guard over the city, and at times I
felt it was refusing to release us. But that’s just me being dramatic. We were reluctant to leave. Nafplio is a beautiful place, especially when the morning sea breeze flows through the waterfront streets and cools everything in its path.
As we drove out of the coastal city, I marvelled at the distant mountain ranges that dominated the horizon. We had travelled to Argos the previous day, and I loved the stark arid features of the mountains that surround and protect this majestic harbour. Giant wind turbines populate the mountain peaks, like mythological gods trying their utmost to remind those in the protected valleys below that wind is a sustainable resource. Unfortunately, few seem to be embracing the message of these tall white prophets. Perhaps they never will.
As we drove towards the mountains, we passed olive groves flourishing in the dry brown earth. Every so often, the rocky crags of distant mountain peaks would momentarily appear, before disappearing behind smaller mountain ranges in the foreground. Dimly lit tunnels cut straight through the mountainside, and as we disappeared into these marvels of human engineering, the backlit keyboard on our new laptop came into its own. In all of
our previous travels, I’ve always had to stop typing in road and train tunnels.
Ever-present olive groves dotted the hills, often stretching down to the verge of busy highways. Farmers herded sheep along narrow country roads. The deeper we travelled into the Peloponnese, the greener the landscape became. The mid-morning sun was beating down upon our minibus as we sped along the highway. I’d managed to sit on the wrong side of the vehicle, and the heat of the sun was driving through my shoulder blades.
We descended from the mountains into a valley dotted with tiny villages, then navigated a maze of narrow country lanes on our way to Parapougki, a small village north of Kalamata. And ‘small’ it was. The village is populated by about 35 people! I’ve never seen the adjective ‘small’ used so aptly. We’d detoured to this tiny Peloponnese village to visit the Ben Olive Mill, a family-owned olive estate and mill, and we’d arrived in searing heat… at 10:45am!
There’s an old adage that many of us are familiar with:
If you have nothing nice to say, say nothing at all. I fluctuate on this. When writing a travel blog, you
can be accused of ‘fair weather reporting’ if you only say nice things about your journey. Conversely, you can be accused of being ‘prejudicial’ and ‘overtly subjective’ if you choose to include the not-so-nice things. What to do? In this instance, I’ve decided to change the old adage as follows:
If you have nothing nice to say, try not to say too much. It’s a middle road, and hopefully an objective one.
I didn’t like our guide at Ben Olive Mill. He provided us with an olive tour and tasting, and some of the things he said did not align with my global world view. I’ve met many people who describe their products as ‘the best in the world’. However, their tongue is always firmly in their cheek, and they are always smiling cheekily. When challenged, they laugh louder than most. It is for dramatic effect, and it is amusing and engaging. When our guide described Greek olives as the best in the world, and Greek olive oil as the best in the world, he was very serious. It was not a tongue in cheek comment, and it was not meant to be funny. He could not understand why
anyone would want to use anything but Greek olives, and he certainly could not understand why anyone would want to use Australian olives. Maybe he was promoting his olive business in a pragmatic manner. Maybe he didn’t have a sense of humour. Maybe.
I struggled with his humourless parochialism. Maybe that was all it was.
If you have nothing nice to say, try not to say too much. I think I’ve said enough.
As we were sheltering in the shade of an olive grove (or ‘olive forest’ as it was described to us), an elderly man walked past and scolded our guide for olives that had fallen on the ground. He was the guide’s uncle. We could barely stand in direct sunlight for more than a minute, yet this old bloke (in his 90s) was walking in the late morning sun with a heavy bucket in one hand. As he disappeared down a narrow lane flanked on both sides by olive trees, our guide described him as ‘always needing a project’. In my silent thoughts, I described him as ‘a very perceptive uncle’.
Anyway, after our olive grove tour, we made our way back to the olive
mill and tasted some olive oil. It was very strong. So much so, it burned the back of my throat, but in a good way. It was absolutely fantastic. We also sampled fresh bread, olives, pork and cheese – all drizzled with olive oil – and they were exceptional. Regardless of my reservations about our guide, the tasting at Ben Olive Mill was definitely worth the visit. It was also an amazing experience to be able to visit such a small secluded village on the Peloponnese peninsula.
As we drove out of Parapougki on our way to nearby Kalamata, olive trees stretched as far as the eye could see. This was beautiful rural countryside, but it was hot. During summer, temperatures reach 45 degrees for days on end. It’s way too hot for anyone and anything to be working in the sunlight, including donkeys and other farm animals. As a result, everyone and everything shelters in the shade of trees, or in the comfort of their homes.
Once on the highway, we could again see the mountains and hills surrounding the valley we had entered only a few hours earlier. We could see small villages in the distance,
all clustered around stone bell towers. When we arrived in the coastal city of Kalamata around 1:30pm, we immediately fell in love with the place. Kalamata lives in the shadow of the imposing Taygetos mountain range, and I could feel the presence of the mountains throughout our short stay in the city.
We started with a brisk walk through the central market in the early afternoon, where we found stall owners in the process of packing up. They were all very friendly and happy to share samples of their products. I tried a very cold, strong and refreshing
tsipouro (a grape-distilled brandy), which I followed with an olive at the request of the stall holder (although I think she wanted me to have the olive before the drink). 😊
We then walked a short distance to Ta Rolla Taverna, a family run restaurant offering heart-warming home-cooked meals. We settled at a table in a narrow street beside the restaurant, where I cooled down with a local Messinian beer (Nema). When Ren heard the restaurant was renowned for its
moussaka, her choice was made. We hadn’t tried a
moussaka dish since arriving in Greece, so this was the perfect
opportunity. I went for the ‘rooster’ with traditional Greek pasta, and it was delicious. We finished the meal with
diples (a Greek pastry with honey) and Greek coffee – which was thick-as!
We left Kalamata around 3:30pm, and before long we were winding our way up the Taygetos mountain range. Olive groves surrounded us, and jagged mountain peaks jutted into the sky in the distance. We drove through tiny villages, marvelled at derelict old buildings, and braced ourselves for the occasional rough patch of road. The landscape was unforgiving, and at times there were few (if any) signs of life.
As we started our descent into Kardamyli from the mountains, the blue ocean water of the Messinian Gulf became visible, stretching out to that shimmering line where the sky meets the sea. We arrived at Kardamyli Beach Hotel in the mid-afternoon (around 4pm), and it was right on the coastline. We checked in, dropped our packs in our room and headed to the rocky shore. Luckily, wooden duckboards had been laid across the jagged rocks down to the water, so entry to the cold blue sea was reasonably easy. I bobbed around in the swell for a while
to cool down, then settled on a lounge at the hotel pool with Ren to catch up on our travel notes.
We headed into the tiny township of Kardamyli around 7pm (a 30-minute walk from our hotel) to explore the Church of Ayios Spyridon, Mourtzinos Tower and the narrow winding lanes that give this peaceful seaside hideaway so much atmosphere. After about an hour of walking, we wandered into Lela’s Restaurant for dinner, settling at a table overlooking the gulf, with the sound of waves and sea air gently drifting through our conversation.
We ordered grilled octopus and Lela’s salad, and we also shared a plate of fava beans and hummus (with truffles) with our travel companions. It was an extraordinary meal. The salad was incredibly fresh, and the octopus was grilled to perfection. I complemented the octopus with a glass of
ouzo (an aniseed flavoured spirit), and it just amplified the flavour.
We wandered back to our hotel along the dark foreshore, marvelling at the warmth and friendliness of this amazing seaside town. I was still wide awake, so I sat out on our balcony with a cold beer and caught up on my travel notes
in the late-night breeze. This had been a great travel day – we had left Nafplio in the early morning and arrived in Kardamyli in the mid-afternoon, with a quick visit to Kalamata along the way. We had seen Greece at its very best – friendly, warm and peaceful. I completely understand why Patrick Leigh Fermor, one of my favourite travel writers, decided to settle in this part of the world.
SHE SAID... I was a bit excited when I woke in Nafplio – we were heading to
Kardamyli (pronounced KAR-da-me-lee) that day. This was going to be our first taste of a small Greek village, and an added bonus was that we would be passing through
Kalamata (the famous home of Greek olives).
We walked downstairs to Hotel Agamemnon’s breakfast room for our last breakfast with a view of the sparkling Argolic Gulf. I’d settled into a breakfast routine on this trip, and I was really happy that the Hotel Agamemnon’s breakfast buffet contained all my favourites… lovely toast, boiled eggs, creamy feta, blushing red tomatoes, plump strips of cucumber and mild black olives. This first course was usually followed by copious cups of tea
and a small selection of Greek biscuits or breakfast pastries, with massive bonus points to the hotel if they had
bougatsas (custard phyllo pies) – as this one did! 😊
As excited as I was to head to Kardamyli and keep exploring more of Greece, I was also a bit sad to leave Nafplio. It wasn’t that I felt we hadn’t explored or seen enough of the city; it was more that I felt so happy and comfortable in Nafplio that I wanted to linger longer and ‘just be’. It would be the perfect place to return to in the future and spend a chilled-out week doing absolutely nothing! But for now, we had much more of the country to see.
Our minibus drove us through the vast outskirts of the new town of Nafplio, and we were soon driving through agricultural land with orchards and vineyards on either side of us. We climbed quite quickly from sea level up into the mountains, with the farms now spread out in the valleys below us. There were pale mountain peaks on the horizon for most of the day. The Peloponnese scenery was enchanting.
I had intended to write
some travel notes on this trip, but I was squashed in the middle of the back row of the small minibus, and the roads were rather twisty and turny too. This was our first time driving on the multi-lane highways of Greece, and even though the traffic conditions were quite light, it really didn’t help my comfort levels that our new driver was quite heavy footed on the accelerator and brakes. Sadly, our friendly driver Spiros who’d driven us the last few days wasn’t available for the rest of our trip.
As we approached Kalamata, the landscape began to change again. There were lots of modest little villages dotting the hills now, most consisting of just a handful of houses, and possibly a stone tower and a church. There were crumbling stone walls that had once served the vital purpose of demarcating the boundaries of ancient feuding clans, but now only served as a reminder that nothing is permanent. There were very gnarly old olive trees standing guard on both sides of the road, seemingly acting as protection for the younger olive trees in the background. There were times when there were meticulous rows of olive trees in every
direction we looked. This was undisputedly Greece’s olive country.
Kalamata olives have always been our preferred variety of olives at home, and it was very surreal to be visiting their native land all the way on the other side of the world! I was lost in dreamily watching the beautiful pastoral landscape scroll past us, but at some point I became aware that our driver was lost. After a few wrong turns, a few phone calls and a fair bit of back tracking, he eventually delivered us to Ben Olive Mill in the tiny village of Parapougki. We met the man who now runs the third-generation family business, and who was going to be our guide.
After a bit of small talk, we walked across the road to their extensive olive grove. They prefer to call their olive farm an olive jungle, because apart from pruning and harvesting, they do little else to the very old trees on their property. I liked the very natural setting of the trees, which apparently also housed a thriving wildlife population of feral goats and wild boars (which they hunted).
We were there to taste their extra virgin olive oil, but
the guide also gave us a briefing on the olive trees, the difference between olives grown for oil vs table olives, the harvesting process, the oil extraction process, and the differences in the types of oil extracted. We then proceeded indoors to the olive mill shed to begin the tasting.
The olive oil tasting began with an explanation of how to use our senses of smell and taste to identify differences in grades of oil. The first tasting was of a flat commercial oil with a bit of virgin oil, the second was a virgin oil and the third was an extra virgin oil. Then with a bit of fanfare we were presented with the house extra virgin oil as our last tasting. Basically, the fresher/more perfumed the bouquet and the more peppery the taste, the better the quality of the oil. The tasting ended with a meze plate of bread, a fresh white cheese, an aged yellow cheese, smoked pork from their farm, and of course, their olives. Everything was soaked in their delicious olive oil and sprinkled with fragrant dried oregano.
I had been looking forward to this olive farm visit very much, but sadly, I
had taken a dislike to the owner quite early in the piece and consequently couldn’t really enjoy the experience as much as I wanted to. I have very little patience for pompous and sarcastic personality types.
At the start of the visit he’d asked us where we were all from, and then used this information to periodically put down the various countries in relation to Greek olives and olive oil. He may have meant it as a joke, but it wasn’t delivered as such. We’d mentioned that we buy Kalamata olives at home, and instead of graciously accepting this as a compliment, his retort was something along the lines of ‘that is because Australian olives aren’t very good’! I thought it was bad form to show such disrespect to your customers. If I could have been bothered, I would have explained that it was more because our Australian olive industry is still very young and small, and artisanal products are too expensive for everyday consumption. But I really couldn’t be bothered having a conversation with him.
Notwithstanding of the owner’s personality and guiding style, in hindsight, I still found the olive oil tasting quite educational. I hadn’t realised
that early olives produce a better quality but a lesser quantity of oil, and the older olives produce a higher volume of oil but also have higher acidity. So as with any fruit, it’s a yearly debate as to when to harvest the crop. I also learnt that the first oil of the season from pressing early harvested green olives is highly prized. I later read that this is called
agourelaio, and realised that this was the bright green fruity olive oil we had loved so much with our octopus carpaccio in Poros – I’ll certainly be looking out for it from now on!
We eventually left the farm and drove into the town of Kalamata. We were visiting their weekly Wednesday farmer’s market, and we were supposed to have a market tour. However, to my surprise, our group leader Georgia just about sprinted through the market with the group racing behind her. A very quick walk-through with no interaction with the sellers, and not a single explanation offered to us about the different produce on sale, is NOT a ‘market tour’!
I was already disappointed that our delay in getting to the olive farm that morning had
had a flow on effect, and most of the stalls were already closing. This further disappointment tipped me over into grumpy territory. There was zero value added to what was an included activity of the trip. 😞
Andrew and I decided that we were still going to make the most of our visit, and therefore stopped racing to keep up with the group. We slowed down and chatted to a few friendly stall holders, photographed their produce, and graciously accepted sample tastings when they were offered to us. One such tasting was of
tsipouro (a strong grape-distilled brandy), and the people were seriously lovely and wanted us to sit down and share some meze with them. However, despite my grumpiness at not getting our market tour, I couldn’t justify keeping the group waiting… so we sincerely thanked the stall holders and joined the waiting group.
There have been times when Intrepid’s group leaders have led absolutely amazing market tours, but in this instance, the group leader actually hindered us from experiencing the market to my satisfaction. It was especially annoying because the well-crafted itinerary of our food-focussed trip had been specifically designed to have us in Kalamata on
a Wednesday to experience this famous farmer’s market… and here we were, doing a box ticking walk-through. As mentioned above – I was quite grumpy.
We exited the market and walked a few blocks to Ta Rolla Taverna for a late lunch. Earlier that morning Georgia had told us that the taverna was famous for their
moussaka (a layered dish of eggplant and minced meat, topped with a bechamel/white sauce), but given they always sold out, she recommended calling ahead with pre-orders if we wanted it. I absolutely love
moussaka and there was no way I was missing out, so I’d pre-ordered a portion.
We sat at the taverna’s outside table and enjoyed the summery afternoon while absorbing the quiet vibe of Kalamata. We were on a beautiful tree-lined street, with low rise art deco buildings… and the distant hum of the weekly market packing up. I was happy when all the taverna cats decided to flock to our table and hang out with us, but I soon realised that it had less to do with our company and more to do with the fact that we were the only table about to be served food! Cunning felines!
😊
Like many family-run tavernas, Ta Rolla specialised in ‘cooked foods’. This term refers to what we would call casseroles and baked comfort food. Often one-pot dishes, they are displayed in trays at the taverna’s counter so customers can order after perusing the trays. Andrew opted for a chicken and pasta dish called
kotopoulo me hilopites. Georgia had been talking about a dish called ‘red rooster’, and we now realised it had nothing to do with the Australian fast food chain restaurant – it was a chicken baked in thick red sauce. The traditional Greek egg pasta it was served with was very similar to Italian tagliatelle, but cut into small squares.
My
moussaka was seriously delicious! It was my first
moussaka of the trip, and it was everything I dreamed it would be – flavourful spicy meat, melting soft eggplant, and a thick but delicate white sauce with crispy bits on top. Mariana and I were in
moussaka heaven. We both declared it the best we’d had. Andrew equally enjoyed his ‘red rooster’ and pasta dish. 😊
The owner and chef of the taverna came over to our table and apologised to us (via Georgia) that
our servings of
moussaka hadn’t been as large as normal. She had reserved four portions as per our pre-order, but then received five orders from our table. Mariana and I joked that we had been short-changed… but if my portion size had been any larger, I would have still scoffed it all and definitely suffered negative consequences later on. So no apology was needed. Regardless, she gave us a complimentary Peloponnese dessert as way of compensation. The scrolls of
diples (a thin pastry fried and rolled in honey) was served with very thick Greek coffee. It was a very homestyle comfort dessert, and I loved it.
Good food can have magical mood-altering powers, and our meal at Ta Rolla made me very happy and definitely went a long way to countering my prior grumpiness of the day.
The first part of our drive to Kardamyli was on a winding uphill road through the Taygetos mountain range. It wasn’t the best road to traverse after a very big meal, but the outlook was of gorgeous hills that were extremely lush and green with pine trees. We were in the southwestern corner of the Peloponnese peninsula called Messinia (of which
Kalamata is the capital), and we were travelling to the area south of it called the Messinian Mani peninsula. As we got closer to our destination and started descending to sea level, the mountainsides became increasingly tamed into terraced olive groves.
In the bright afternoon sun, we drove briefly through the village of Kardamyli and along the Messinian Gulf onto Kardamyli Beach Hotel. Our hotel had beach frontage, but the price we paid for that luxury was being a 30-minute walk out of the town centre.
Our hotel had definitely seen better days, but our room was comfortable enough and had a balcony with a panoramic view of mountains, the sea and the beach. When I say beach, I should clarify that it was a very rocky beach with a wooden walkway (to enable access to the sea without slashing your feet on the jagged rocks). It was a hot and still afternoon, so not long after we arrived, Andrew walked along the wooden path over the rocky beach and dived into the sea. I didn’t fancy lowering myself into the cold sea via a metal ladder, so sat in the hotel pool instead – it was an
extremely pleasant way to while away a couple of hours and write travel notes. 😊
As the sun started setting at 7pm, we regrouped and walked into Kardamyli town. It was a pleasant walk along the beach, with a red setting sun on one side of us and small hotels and cafes with beautiful gardens on the other. The hotels on this stretch of the beach were small but still extremely busy. From a survey of the registration plates of the cars parked outside, it looked like the tourists were mainly from Germany. Closer to the village centre, I was very surprised to see massive red gum Eucalyptus trees lining a part of the walk, with a very old specimen taking a central spot in the local church. I’d love to know how they came to be planted in this village.
Once we reached the village, we veered left and made our way into the fortified Old Town. We walked past olive groves, along stone paths and through what sometimes felt like people’s front yards. All the buildings were of the local stone, and they all had charming cottage gardens or fruit trees surrounding their homes. It wasn’t
a very large Old Town, but I loved it very much.
It’s clear that some parts of the village – like the waterfront restaurants and the beachfront hotels (like ours) – cater mainly for tourists; but life in the Old Town seems to tick over as it has always done. We finally made it to the 18th century Church of Ayios Spyridon, and the eye catching Mourtzinos Tower. It was really picturesque with views to the Messinian Gulf, and the setting sun casting a pink glow on the stone tower and surrounding hills.
We made our way back down into the small village, which was impossibly cute! It sits between the Messinian Gulf and the Taygetos Mountains, and it’s one of the most peaceful places we’ve been to in a long time. The village is globally famous for being the adopted home of the English author Patrick Leigh Fermor. Andrew loves Fermor’s travel writing, but I’m not so keen on his style. Fermor’s later books were about his travels in this part of the world, and as a result it attracts many devoted fans.
We walked through the charming main street of the village to Lela’s Restaurant.
Lela was the long-standing cook and housekeeper for the Fermors, and she started this restaurant after Patrick Fermor died in 2011.
The restaurant setting was absolutely stunning – the outside tables sat under beautiful lights and trees with fairy lights. We were on a slightly elevated position over the sea, but not so high that we couldn’t hear the waves hitting the rocks below us. Our table faced west, and we perused our menus while we watched the last streaks of the red and orange sunset fade into grey, and then black when evening slipped in.
Our table shared starters of fava bean and truffled hummus dips, then Andrew and I shared a lovely and fresh house salad that was typical of the Mani peninsula with rocket, dried figs, salted pork, grilled local talagani cheese (similar to haloumi), olives, orange,
lalagia (a local doughnut) and a pomegranate vinaigrette. Our main was a really delicious grilled octopus dish with cherry tomatoes, olives, oregano and black eyed peas. The restaurant setting was absolutely gorgeous, and the food was absolutely delicious! I would highly recommend this place… despite our experience being slightly marred by a very arrogant cashier at the end
of the night.
Our 30-minute walk back to the hotel with a few members of the group was very enjoyable. The tide had come in, and we had the sea lapping close to our feet on one side and a faint scent of jasmine in the air. It was a darkish road but the moon and stars were out, and we chatted to Dani about life and travel as we steered ourselves to our rooms.
The day had felt like a bit of a mixed bag for me, but when looking at the bigger picture, the couple of small disappointing episodes I’d encountered couldn’t even begin to put a dent in the beautiful overall experience of the day.
We have another full day in Kardamyli, and Andrew and I are very much looking forward to spending it by slowly meandering through the village… we have already agreed that we will start our explorations at the beautiful Old Town we’d briefly visited this evening.
See you around Kardamyli!
Advertisement
Tot: 0.184s; Tpl: 0.023s; cc: 15; qc: 41; dbt: 0.0582s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.3mb
Yeti
Andy and Ali Bell
Well....
A few disappointing run-ins... But hell, the food looked and sounded amazing. What I wouldn't give for that Peloponnese salad right now.... Drooling emojis galore.....