Greek Beginnings

Olympia, Greece
Nov. 4

I'm so happy to be based in a little town with the country all around us (Olympia is population 1450, which makes it not much bigger than the small towns I grew up in!). We are the only people in our campsite -- this is definitely the low season. We like it here -- the owner is a bit gruff but speaks to us in French. All around the campsite, which is on the edge of town, can be seen the scars of a huge forest fire; I remember hearing about the terrible fires that were ravaging Greece a couple of summers ago. The sight of the damage is sobering; the trees around the campsite are all blackened and dead, and a couple of buildings that must have been showers were destroyed as their timber beams burnt right through. The whole site must have been very close to complete annihilation -- the town itself, for that matter. And now the white-haired owner and his cronies are out with their chain saws, bringing down the skeletons of the huge old trees on the periphery, while higher up the hill a bulldozer is pushing down as well. There are so many olive trees mixed into the forests here that it's easy to imagine how a conflagration could be impossible to control; they're so full of oil that they must erupt like bombs and then burn for ages. Scary and sad; we've seen olive trees that were over 1100 years old, so they can have incredibly long lives if circumstances are right.

And the weather is glorious -- hot and sunny, but the evening come fast and things cool right off, so its perfect. Its good to get rid of that horrible feeling of always being damp.


Nov. 5

I've learned more about the fires -- they were just last year, and they actually destroyed half this campground. The kids found ruins of shower and toilet buildings further up the hill. Nearby, there are burnt-out buildings that have been partially pulled down. The hills for miles around are blackened -- they must have fought like tigers to keep the flames out of the ancient Olympia site. Apparently there were 3000 tourists in town off a cruise ship when they fire swept in -- terrifying.

And I was wrong about the olive trees -- they are amazingly resilient. All across the burnt-out hills you can see small tufts of silvery-green at the base of old black trunks, where the olives trees are springing back to life. No wonder they live for so many centuries. As we drive through the hills there are some obviously planted olive groves, but many just appear to be the wild trees that have been trimmed into some sense of order. Often in these little groves, especially as we get further up into the hills, totally off the beaten tourist track, there are little camps set up under the trees -- a shack that people obviously live in, and a little flock of goats or sheep, and an occasional donkey.

We went up into the 'mountains' (huge hills) today in search of centaurs. Hundreds of meters up some seriously stomach-lurching switchbacks, we found the beginning of the enormous oak forest of Folios. Apparently it is unique to the Balkans and eastern Europe in its size and exclusive oak vegetation, but we were much more interested in it's most famous inhabitant, the centaur Folos. He was a benevolent old guy in a species that were not just pretty ponies, and he was a friend to Herakles (Hercules) and mentored him through his labors. When Herakles went in search of the Aramanthian Boar , he stopped in Folios to visit the old centaur, who in a fit of hospitality gave Herakles some wine. Now we have discovered ourselves that Grecian wine is not generally of great quality -- it's usually sold in the same plastic bottles you buy water in -- so we can understand that when you get a good vintage, you want to use it sparingly. Apparently the god Dionysus had given this wine to the centaurs, exclusively. The others in the herd took great umbrage at Folos sharing this godly nectar with a mere human, and they attacked. With typical Greek nonchalance towards carnage, the story goes on to say how -- with difficulty -- Herakles managed to slay the entire herd, but poor old Folos perished as well.


We were hoping that we might come across evidence that some poor little foal (baby?) had been overlooked and as yet darted through the beautiful open spaces below the towering trees. Hard proof remained elusive, but certainly it remains a place of mystery and beguilement; we put on the masks we have from Venice and wandered through the trees and as the kids flitted in and out it was easy to imagine magical creatures lurking nearby, delighted by their laughter. The occasional ringing of the bell on an unseen goat's neck added to the sense of mystery -- maybe what we thought were animals was actually a band of satyrs, come to mourn the loss of their kindred...


Nov. 7

I'm starting to feel a little dubious about labeling ourselves 'gypsies' now that I've observed a few in the flesh. Although the idea of having no fixed abode or regular employment sounds romantic in Canada, in reality what I see are unwashed, unbrushed, uncouth little creatures and haggard, insolent looking adults. We drove around the countryside a bit today (as the weather is once again turning foul) and watched a family of about 10 people at a garbage dump, sifting through the contents and loading it into the small half-ton truck that presumably served as transport for them all. We were torn between repulsion and fascination, for although it was smelly and unpleasant, they did all appear to be quite happy; the kids were pitching in much more enthusiastically than mine do when asked to tidy up!!! An older woman in a long purple skirt and -- yes! -- large hoop earring stood aside somewhat and simply watched; she must have been the head of the household. Interesting.

Of course, although Greece has been part of the E.U. since 1981, the standard of living here varies wildly. Caelan has learned the word "hovel" and uses it constantly as we are driving -- "Mummy, another hovel... is that a hovel, Mummy?". We had discussed the word and I had explained to them that some of the shacks we were seeing were probably peoples' homes but the first time we passed a dilapidated little shed and there was a lady sitting smoking on the stoop, with piles of junk and garbage spilling out of the door and into the yard, we were all a bit shocked and horrified. On the other hand, most of these hovels have views our rich neighbors in Riverbend would give their eye-teeth for; which continues to beg the question for me, "what does a standard of living entail, anyhow?". I'm not sure that just measuring it in $$ and square footage is appropriate. The Greeks certainly seem to work a fair amount of pleasure into their days; everywhere, from the middle of an olive grove to outside every house and business, there are a couple of chairs set for a little afternoon relaxation. In this part of Greece, the villages up in the mountains contain people who probably don't even know what the E.U. is, and they could certainly care less if the world goes into a recession -- it won't affect them. The average mountain village seems to have one to two satellite dishes per hundred to two hundred people; a typical fat-cat oily Greek business man runs the place, and has a cousin connected to anything we could possible want!


One of our favorite sight is the flocks of sheep and/or goats that roam the countryside, accompanied by a shepherd. Because it has been so dry they are often grazing the grass in the ditches next to the roads. I feel uncomfortable taking their photos, but the image is one I will always associate with Greece.

And I continue to love the small town feel; we've gone to a place for 'gyros' twice now, and they are like old friends and know all about where we are staying and gossip about the people who own the campground -- no love lost there! The guy who runs the gas station asked how the boys were doing with their schoolwork when we stopped for diesel... another (very discerning) shop-keeper pulled Mitch aside one day when he was alone on the main street to mention he had some gold products that I might like!

The big attraction around here, of course, was the ancient ruins of the Olympic site. In Antiquity, the Games started in Olympia as a sort of provincial thing but became bigger and bigger until the whole Peloponnese and even further was involved, and all the warring territories swore a truce for the duration of the games. This went on for several centuries; when they Games were revived in 18?? they were moved to Athens, but the Olympic torch is still lit here in Olympia before ti begins its journey.


These are the first big ruins we've seen in Greece, and I thought the kids would be fascinated -- they were interested, and had some fun pretendning to be Olympians in the stadium, but what really got them excited was anything that refered to or informed their extensive knowledge of Greek mythology. So while they liked the temples to Hera and Zues in the site, they were really much more taken by the museum, where they spent ages poring over every display -- especially statues or friezes. I was ready to leave long before they were. I can't believe how they just eat it up.

Venetian Halloween

Venice, Oct. 29, 2008

Water. Everywhere. What a crazy day we had... we were damp and uncomfortable after a couple of rainy days camping in Florence, so we were hoping to drive out of the weather as we went north through the mountains to Venice. Instead, we came through torrential downpours that started small flash floods on the highways. Because the roads here -- even the 'peage' toll motorways -- have no shoulders to speak of, we couldn't pull over, but had to creep forward with the humidity so high we could hardly see through either side of the windscreen. That was exciting!

We stopped at an information booth on the motorway just before Venice, and the woman there made it clear in her disdainful and heavily accented English that we would be mad to pitch a tent in this weather... so we've ended up in another campground 'bungalow'. She figured that Venice would be flooded, but "toureests lova thees"! Last night as the rain and wind tore through the camp, I was very glad to have walls and a roof between us and the great outdoors.

Water to us on the praries is important, of course; it's the difference between burnt fields and prosperity, but here in Venice, water is life itself. They drive on it, play in it, and live on it; their front doors open upon it; it is their garden and their driveway; their livelihood and... in these days of rising tides... their bane. The lagoon around the city is laid out with channels just like roadways, complete with speed signs (14 km) and work crews manning bobcats and backhoes as well as flatdeck boats and floating platforms. Gondolas still ply the canals -- but only for the tourists; the locals use motor boats!

As I write this, the light has been dimmed by the shadow of a huge Norweigan freighter passing so close that even I could throw a rock and hit it. Now that she's gone past, the skyline of Venice sparkles in newly-washed splendour just across the lagoon.


Oct. 31st
Happy Halloween!!


The kids have been very concerned ever since we left for Europe as to what would happen for Halloween. Their hopes were raised by an occasional person in various countries assuring them "oh yes, we celebrate it now"... but the reality is that 'celebrating it' seems to mean some Halloween patterned goods in candy shops, and some decorating in a bar here or there. On the flip side, we've been travelling a continent where ghouls are quite commonly referred to, spooky houses and old castles abound, and the sight of a skull or skeleton is pretty common -- in a way, the whole autumn has been one long and drawn out homage to All Hallow's Eve!

And of course, being in Venice, the land of costumes and revelry, we figured we had to find some way to celebrate! The kids have been absolutely obsessed with the idea of Venetian masks ever since we set foot in Italy, so we decided to buy one for each of us as part of our Halloween celebration. We have now been to every shop that sells masks within a square mile of St. Mark's Cathedral -- some of them twice!!! We've have learned a lot about masks through this process, so Mitch (the anti-shopper) was somewhat appeased! All of us ended up getting our masks in different stores; they're quite an individual thing in regards to shape and personality, and getting the two aspects perfect is a stroke of luck (or perseverance!).

Yesterday afternoon we were given a pamphlet on the street by a girl in costume -- given the time of year, this intrigued us enough to look at it more closely. It was for a 'dinner theatre' style show about the history of Venice -- and "Time Out" magazine gave it a very good review. Kids were free (!!), so we decided to use it as an excuse to get into our fancy clothes that we've bought along the way. This meant pelting back across the city to catch a ferry back to the campground, doing a quick clean up and change, and then rushing back to catch the next ferry and have time for more mask hunting. It was really worth the rush, though... the kids got compliments everywhere they went because they were looking so spiffy, and the show was excellent... well performed and designed. We learned a lot!! Turns out that at its peak, Venice Carnival lasted eight months of the year, and once a mask was donned, it pretty much gave the wearer license to do whatever they pleased. In a country as zealously Christian as Italy, I had wondered how this would work.. but it seems that the monks and nuns were generally just as willing to put on a mask and step into a different lifestyle as the common folk! It's really a miracle more damage wasn't done than was over the centuries; every now and then a new Doge (mayor) and his government would crank out a new list of reforms, but it just seemed to lead to more craziness. For better or worse, the advent of the World Wars finally shut down the party town. I'd love to go back to modern-day Carnival itself (The week of Ash Wednesday), but I can't even begin to fathom how crowded it would be; we are here in the low season and the crowds are manageable, but its definitely busy.


We went back into town this morning for a final look around and to get the last couple of masks with a plan of wearing them once we all had one. We did do this a bit -- and it was surprising how few stares we got as we wandered down the streets -- but it has been drizzling with more rain all day, so fears of wrecking them has limited our time for masked revelry.



On the Venetian Lagoon
leaving Venice
Nov. 1st

Well, we've had a great time here... even in the rain, there is just something undeniably romantic about this city full of narrow pathways, so much water, and beautiful bridges. However, it is not a cheap place to enjoy and the rain presists, so it's time to move to the far South in hopes of warmer temperatures and to keep a tryst with the Gods the boys have read and imagined about for so long.

Our original thought was to drive down the Adriatic coast past what was once the Yugoslavian coastline and now is made up of Slovenia, Croatia, Montenegro and Albania. We were a bit doleful about the length of the drive... and then further investigation (most of it completed late last night!) revealed that our car insurance is not valid for Albania. Why? Because Albania has only really had cars for the last ten years or so since the Wall came down and Communism's steely fist loosened. But apparently the drivers are terrible, the roads even worse (just glorified cart tracks in many place -- and this is through some serious mountain ranges), and mechanics a rarity. Hmmm... while puzzling over whether or not to take our chances and drive anyhow, I did a little more reading about the people... since Communism has diminished, the ancient practice of blood feuding has waxed again. this means that if an offense is given to one family by the opposing one, the insulter must die. But then if someone in a family is killed, his death must be avenged by the entire clan clubbing together to track down and kill all of the men in the family that gave offense. You can see how all this can get a bit complicated and terribly hard on population numbers(!); the guide book then went on to comment cheerfully that tourists are rarely hurt in these struggles, which for the most part are centered in the North Eastern mountain areas. Great. That was right where we had to drive as Serbia was also nit allowed by our insurance documents. Conjuring up images of being stuck in some remote mountain town with broken axle and no way to fix it as the only mechanic in town was stabbed to death in front of us.... we decided to cough up the cash and take the ferry down to Patras. Less exciting perhaps... unless you are three children roaming a huge ship for the first time!! (And I like that kind of excitement better).

Besides, the view of Venice as we slowly slipped through the harbor and out to sea has been worth every penny. This way, we can admire the coastline of Albania from the ship!!

Time in Tuscany

Florence, Italy

Oct. 25

We're sitting on a patio terrace, overlooking the city of Florence. Dominating the skyline is the massive Duomo, which we toured yesterday -- a 14th century looming cathedral with a soaring dome (which gives it it's name). The inside of the dome is painted with exquisite scenes from the Bible, but it was the outside that really captured our fancy; it is candy striped!! The entire structure is made of rows of marble in shades of green, white and rose, so in a cathedral of these immense proportions, it's pretty amazing.


It's not the Duomo that is distracting us from the inevitable homeschooling this morning however -- it's the olive harvest. Even here in the city, no olive tree escapes giving up its bounty. As the trees in the campground have been picked, the olives have been dumped onto a corner of the terrace, so now they've come along to shovel them all into sacks and cart them away. I can't find anyone who speaks enough English to tell me where these are going -- I imagine they'll end up at the local mill to be pressed, but whether or not they come back for use in the campground restaurant, or are sold to pay for running costs, I can't figure out! Two days ago, as we were doing our work in our campsite, we were interupted by the arrival of the men to pick. They were working on the tree just over the fence from us: first they laid down a tarp to catch the fall, then one of them went up and ladder and attacked the fruit with a sort of hand-held rake. Considering these trees can live for centuries, he was pretty rough -- chunks of stems and branches went flying as well as the olives! His partner on the ground seemed to be there primarily to extract the largest chunks of tree from the heap of olives on the ground. Another type of harvest in another country. The olives in the area of France we were in are controlled by the 'appelation controllee" rules for the area (first developed to standardise grape production), and they cannot be picked for another six weeks to two months. Essentially, producers in each region -- even just people with a tree or two in their back garden -- have to abide by picking times decided upon by the local authorities which will yield the highest quality fruit. It's all extremely interesting for this farm kid... especially considering we're smack in the middle of a city!

And what a city -- it's leaving me feeling a bit overwhelmed. The statistics listed on the sightseeing boards list in the city centre: 214 palaces and towers, 167 churches and religious buildings, 61 museums!! Good grief!!


Oct. 27


Sunday was a gorgeous day; we drove out through the Tuscan countryside and enjoyed the sunshine and clear skies. Just to wander through the little towns, or stop off at a particularly interesting looking castle (they're so prolific we've almost become blase) makes for a gentle, happy day. This trip is really showing me what a country girl I am and will always be.

And quite by accident -- as is usually the way -- we stopped at the medieval castle and fortress of Monteriggio, drawn in by the spectacular beauty (and sword play potential) of it's immense walls. We had to take quite a long and winding detour through the countryside to get to it, and then there was another substantial hike up the hill... but what a reward we found inside! The walls themsleves were all that remained of the original big structures, but housed within one of the smaller buildings was a little display of mediaval armor, and they let us try it on!!! The boys were absolutely beside themselves with excitement... and I am sorry to say that the Cox family played our part in adding to the scarring on the low timbered ceiling in a room that contained an extra-long broadsword! Caelan was absolutely dwarfed by that armor, but he was in there with a grim determination that was comical and painfully sweet at the same time. He could barely lift the biggest sword, but when Lochlan wielded it, he had to have a go as well. We're coupling these kind of experiences with some great audio tapes about history... I don't know what use it will be in the big picture of their lives, but they know it inside out!




I had been hankering for Sienna since we left France, but all our unplanned detours that day meant that we didn't get to it (our original destination) till dark. But even that was okay... we've seen the inside of enough churches and monuments already that we could just wander through the walled town and soak up the atmosphere. Again, for the kids there was something magical about being in such a folk-tale kind of setting at 'the witching hour'. We found a little hole-in-the-wall bar that served reasonable food -- 'real' restaurants don't start serving meals at the ridiculously early hour of 7:00 pm, and they're outside of our current budget constraints at the moment, anyhow. Eating out in any way is a big treat for us, but as we munched on re-heated lasagna off plastic plates, the kids pointed out to each other that we will have 14 nights of gourmet food while we're on the cruise!



Oct. 28

Well, we've done our best to get to know Italy, but it has been raining off and on since we got here... it's so much easier to fall in love with a place when I'm dry!!! But the kids have been real troopers; we've spent a couple of days in the reasonable warmth and 'dryness' of a designer outlet mall. Our plan has always been to buy Mitch a suit in Italy... he needed a new one, Italian clothes fit a slim guy like him perfectly, and it saved us dragging one with us all this way just for the cruise. So we set the kids up with their school books, a walkie-talkie, and money to buy themselves some lunch while we tried on and compared suits of all kinds. They were SO happy to have this kind of freedom... they agonised over the best deal for their money (which of course included gelato!), and ordered in Italian... these kind of growing-up days stand out as epochs that leave me proud and wistful. Of course, we were never far away, but the foreign language made it all that much more adventurous -- and courageous.

Then today we decided to get out of the rain and follow up on a brochure to see a display of Leonardo da Vinci's machines while cashing-in on a "free lunch" with admission. When we finally found the place -- the tiny, one-way and usually unmarked streets of Florence are pictureesque but a nightmare to navigate -- we were wet, bedraggled and ravenous for lunch. When we saw that the 'included' sandwich was a pre-packaged job like you can buy at chemists in England, it made me laugh, but we all bellied up and picked out what we wanted from the selection of two types... then we watched in wonder as the guy behind the counter solemnly took out his tongs and fished a half sandwich out of a packet, put it on a plastic plate, and put it in front of us!! So much for our free meal... even Cachell was still starving when it was finished in three gulps!

Fortunately, the exhibition was great. Da Vinci is one of my heroes, and my enthusiasm has rubbed off on all the children. An excellent documentary film on his life done by the History Channel was playing (did they have a license to show it, I wonder?). It was really only there to add to the ambiance as it was in English and an hour and a half long, but we all plonked down and watched the whole thing from beginning till end. Well, almost end; when we got to the part where it discussed his study of medical anatomy late in his life, it showed da Vinci in a hospital morgue preparing to do an autopsy on an old man and a child. The kids had sat through countless war scenes and graphic descriptions of horrible machines for mass killing he designed, but the morgue scene drove them out of the room! Lochlan came back in, but when we left after it finished 5 minutes later we found Caelan lying on the floor under a huge model of a flying machine, where he had apparently passed out!!! Poor guy! Fortunately, the models were mostly hands-on, and so interesting that he was soon cajoled back to feeling fit again.


We all really learned a lot... I am fascinated and slightly repelled that Leonardo respected all living creatures to the point of being a life-long vegetarian, but at the same time, a large portion of his career was spent designing instruments of war for Italy's leading tyrants, including the Borgas. He also absolutely hated Michalangelo... but learning these things made him more human, and therefore much more knowable. We were all vibrating with the awareness that he had walked the very streets we exited onto, and we had to pass Michelangelo's David on our way back to camp... we'll never forget Florence or da Vinci and his contemporaries.

Towers and other off-balance adventures

Oct. 24, 2008

Florence, Italy

It's mid-night black in the heart of Florence, and I am typing this by the light of a flashlight hung from our table's umbrella. It's so mild that we can sit out in the evening to eat (or write) without being thoroughly chilled and uncomfortable -- this going further and further south as autumn sets in really works!!

Having said that, our first day away from the home comforts and warm welcome of the Adolph's was a bit of an adventure. We dragged ourselves out of France quite unwillingly; even after more than a month exploring Provnce and the South we still felt there was so much more to see. We really loved every minute of it, and we all felt our French improving through use -- and parting from Dagmar and Winfred was as painful as if we had known them all our lives.

So all in all, our moods mirrored the cold misty weather outside as we drove through the final eastern miles of France, and then on into Italy. The Italian-French border does NOT show Italy at its best -- and as we needed to put on some miles we motored straight through and south towards Pisa. We arrived in the town itself late in the afternoon, and in uncharacterisictally feckless moods we decided against prudence: we could pitch a tent in the dark, after all, and we were all keen to see the famous Leaning Tower.


And it really was worth the detour... it looks just like a big, squodgy wedding cake slapped together by a pasrty chef who had been into the cooking sherry! It is amazing that it has kept that slant for so many centuries; it started to lean before it's final tier was even built, and continued to fall off vertical for hundreds of years until 1986, when it was 4 degrees past the place deemed physically possible by all experts, and they closed it down and went to work propping it up. Thanks to 20th century engineering skills (and equipment) it was slightly straightened and shored up against catastrope. They still limit the number of entrants to 30 at a time, though!

The kids (and Caelan in particular) were all fascinated by their first encounter with street vendors from Northern Africa selling rip-off watches and purses and always ready with a price "just for you". By the time we tore ourselves away from the delights of haggling, it was well and truly dark. No problem -- we had managed to find a Tourist Info booth and actually had a map to a campground that was still open for the season. It took a bit of 'zigging and zagging' -- every country marks its roads in different ways and none of them are even remotely the same, so we were still working out Italy -- but we found our
way eventually. We parked, rolled out our tent that had just enjoyed a nice long holiday... and disaster struck. Somehow the tent had been wedged into the van in such a way that the connecting strings within the poles had rubbed against the metal supports until they frayed and broke in multiple places. And by this time it is pitch black and everyone was cold, starving, and tired after a long day's travel. Eeek... "these are the times that make for good stories,' I kept telling myself. In the end, we laid out the groundsheet at the end of the car, opened the hatch, and draped the fly over top, securing it at the bottom with our bags. It wasn't the Shangri-la, and its a good thing that the weather had warmed up as much as it had, but we managed. Cachell and I spent the night clinging to each other with the sleeping bag pulled as tightly around our heads as possible -- we discovered a big slug making its way up her bag as we were settling in. (Ugh!)

But we survived -- our dodgy stove had a small and unexpected explosion as I was putting a meal together, so having to sleep in a makeshift shelter seemed trivial in the face of what we could have had to deal with if any of us had been any closer to it than we were. And now we've got ourselves settled in Florence, and we're ready to explore this beautiful city and Tuscan countryside (not to mention the Designer Outlet Centre we passed on the way into town!).

Pirates and Prince Charming

Monaco... text to follow

More with a French Flavour

Text lost on damaged computer... will follow!