Meteora Mystery

Meteora, Greece
Nov. 27, 2008

We left Delphi bright and early today, bound for the ferry port of Igoumenista and the ferry connection across to Italy. We didn't get on the ferry until 11:00 p.m., so this gave us the whole day to explore our way through Northern Greece... and particularly, visit the monasteries of Meteora that I had been reading about with great anticipation.

Generally, in Greece, we were not terribly interested in OLD sites (you know, dating back through the last millennia or two) when we could see ANCIENT sites... but even the kids were interested to see the Meteora monasteries. In this part of the Greek mainland, up deep in mountain country, there are some amazing rock formations; giant 'hoodoos' as we call them at Drumheller, conical up-thrusts of rock with with almost sheer, straight sides. They look like weird galactic mushrooms. Alone, these would be very interesting -- but it was on top of these crazy rocks that the monasteries were built.

I like to imagine back to the first hermit monk who wandered into Kastraki village in the 1400s, saw the hoodoos beyond, and felt an irresistible pull to the strange pinnacles. I can see him, beard tucked into his belt, robes flapping, starting to climb, pickaxe and rope slung across his back. He must have been so frustrated in his first attempts. A villager or passing farmer would have noticed him, and watched discreetly from a distance. After the observer went to town for siesta that afternoon and told his cronies around their pot of blisteringly strong coffee, the crowd of onlookers would have grown. Then when the monk finally succeeded and made it to the top -- perhaps with a bit of help from the local lads -- the villagers would have begun to worry how long he could possibly last up there without water. Husbands would have been dispatched by their wives with jugs of water and wine, entreating the monk to throw down a rope so they could send him up some supplies... Stories of the hermit monk would have spread through the small and devout villages, attracting other young monks interested in the ultimate seclusion... until within a century or two, the barren and strange rocks sprouted the monasteries that we can see today. What a labour -- hauling the bricks and timber up by rope, piece by piece. The buildings are quite beautiful, and the half-a-dozen remaining of the original 24 that are still inhabited and used are incredibly well-preserved.

But there is an undeniable spookiness to their beauty. There is a strict dress code, no shorts or short sleeves fro men, and only skirts for women. Visitors nowadays are not hauled up in baskets as in days of yore, but the hundreds of steps up does not make for a warm welcome! When we arrived, slightly out-of-breath, there was absolutely no one to be seen, anywhere, although there was eerily beautiful Gregorian chant playing softly in the background. Our guidebook had mentioned an entrance fee, so when no one appeared we just left our money on the desk and quietly made our way into the chapel, and then up onto the rooftop garden. As we stood u there in the wind, admiring the tiny toy car that was our trusty Peugeot far below, I happened to notice some neatly stacked firewood just behind a little building we had passed on our way up.

"Look at that wood," I said to Mitch. "Isn't it cool -- it almost looks like femurs." I had been laughing as I said it, but we both looked and grew quiet as we realised what we were seeing. "And those round things...," I gulped. "Are they skulls?"

Certain we must be wrong, we made our way down to the entrance, where a grumpy old man was now sitting. We explained to him that we had left our money on the desk -- and he denied having seen it. So either he, or someone else, stole coins placed on a table in a living monastery. By this time, I was feeling quite icky over our discoveries, and just wanted to leave... but as we passed the shed with the "firewood" stacked beyond, Mitch and they boys made their way purposefully around back. Sure enough, neatly stacked, there were 13 complete and several partial human skulls, as well as a number of femurs and other large bones!!!! It's not like the monastery may have boasted a little graveyard which they had dug up for some reasons -- it's solid rock! Who were we looking at? And why were they being treated in such a cavalier and disrespectful fashion -- in a monastery, of all places?! Trafficking in human remains is still a popular black market activity... Should we call the police?


Eventually, given the language barrier, the dubiousness of the Greek police force, and (hopefully not misplaced) ingrained sense of respect for the a religious order, we decided to leave the bones in the hands of the monks... and the mystery of who they belonged to remains just that -- a mystery.