And Then We Were Home

  When we last talked Penny and I were chillin' in Volos, hanging out on the beach with umbrella drinks being constantly replenished by our faithful bartender, Linus. Ok, maybe I was wishing that was the case because it wasn't terribly warm and no one puts an umbrella in your ouzo but, hell, it would have been nice if we could have been doing that.

  We did end up spending three relaxing days there, ate at some decent restaurants which didn't pile french fries on our plates and wandered the streets checking out all the shops that seemed eternally closed. To be fair, we were there from Saturday afternoon through Tuesday morning and Greece seems to operate from Tuesday to Saturday morning. The rest of the time everyone sits in a coffee shop, of which there appear to be thousands in every town, and drinks... coffee. Or, if they're male, they spend their time arguing with each other at raised volume in a contest where the one who talks loudest and longest wins. Reminds me of home when I was a kid... but I digress.

  I was going somewhere with this and it's this: we were there three days and never touched the car. I'd found a parking spot on the street outside our lodgings and there it stayed until we left. Great. Except for the parking ticket. No idea what was wrong with where I parked. There was a spot painted on the road. There were no diagonal lines drawn through it. It wasn't too close to the corner. Who knows what was wrong but I got a ticket. I assume it was a parking ticket since it was all in Greek and, yeah, I can't read Greek. Well, I know what Greek for "taverna" looks like and I figured out what "emergency" was when we passed a hospital but, after that, I got nothin'. I even tried using Google Translate but the print quality was poor (carbon paper anyone?) and there was a lot of scrawled handwriting on it. I figured Budget could handle it and add it to our bill when we returned the car.

  The morning we left there were cars parked close to both front and rear bumpers but I managed to squeeze out and we headed off to Athens for our Wednesday morning flight. Two hundred kilometers later, while parked at a roadside rest area I noticed there were no number plates on the car. Someone stole them! I mean, they were there when we got into the car, right? They were, right? Well, truth be told, neither of us noticed because there were cars parked close to front and back bumpers. Anyway, we noticed now. What to do? The decision was made that Budget would handle that, too, when we returned the car, which we did the following morning.

  The first thing the rental guy says when he looks at the car is, "Where are the number plates?" I shrug in a Gallic sort of way that says, "Who knows, mon ami?" All I was missing was the beret and a Gitanes on my lip. I hand him, what I assume is, the ticket, asking if this helps. He takes a gander at it, scowls, mutters to himself and says, "The police took them." Ok. I was prepared for marauding number plate thieves who hang out at roadside rest areas looking to filch plates from unsuspecting motorists relieving themselves in the facilities but the police? Really? Apparently, he explained, the Volos PD takes your plates if you don't pay a parking ticket within twenty-four hours of issuance. That's how they make sure you pay. Except us. We didn't pay, now did we? Did anyone notice we had no plates? We drove through a five km detour complete with five sets of police officers directing traffic and none of them stopped us. That's some kind of deterrence they've got going on there.

  Anyway, the Budget folks promised to take care of the whole thing, no charge. I figure they'll get on the phone to the Volos PD and give them an earful for doing this to a tourist's plainly labeled rental car knowing full well they'll have no idea what happened because, wait for it, they can't read Greek. Problem solved and off we went to find a plane to take us home.

  Before we go further, it's important to know a) we were flying home via Frankfurt, Germany and b) there had been a strike by airport staff in Frankfurt the previous day. We were supposed to take off at 1400 and make a ninety minute connection to Canada. Trouble was, the plane we awaited to take us to Frankfurt was an hour late and we didn't arrive until fifteen minutes before the connection. As well, Lufthansa pulled in at gate A42 and Air Canada was leaving from B43. The two gates are approximately seventeen miles apart. I might be exaggerating a smidge. Also, as if the distance wasn't enough, there was a customs stop before we could enter the "B" concourse. Only two agents were on duty and both were in heated exchanges with people, one of whom was trying to get into Germany with a passport that expired in 2019! Where do they find these people? It took almost twenty minutes before we cleared customs and arrived at a deserted gate B43, out of both breath and patience.

  We wandered around for another thirty minutes before we found the Lufthansa Transfer Desk and they arranged for us to fly the next day on Icelandair via Reykjavik, providing vouchers for a room and meals. It's worth noting the dinner voucher was for the buffet. That sounded promising. I was starving and "buffet" is a French word that translates to "eat until you puke". We took the shuttle bus to the hotel, dropped our non-existent bags in the room, and headed off to stuff our faces.

  The buffet was, in a word, disappointing. Mysterious foods that smelled like cheese. Quasi-Asian things that were soggy and bland. There was a sign on the coffee machine that told us not to touch it. It's for breakfast only. We ate what we could without gagging and headed off to our three twin bed-equipped room to sleep off a wonderful day.

  This would be a good time to revisit a comment I made when we were back in Cyprus, when I was looking for a T-shirt or sweatshirt of socks that showed I'd been in the country. I believe I said I'd been to fourteen countries. Well, Penny and I had a discussion about that because I said the number was actually higher when you include the countries where I've changed planes. My argument was, if I touch the ground, I'm in the country. Think Pope John Paul II climbing down the airstairs and kissing the tarmac.

  Like that. If you include those countries the number is actually twenty. Add Germany makes twenty-one. No arguing. We were in a hotel in Frankfurt outside the airport property. It absolutely counts!

  Thursday saw a much better buffet for breakfast, including the aforementioned coffee machine, an uneventful flight to Iceland and a quick change to the homecoming leg, except we had to take a bus to the plane and I'm pretty sure the driver didn't know where they parked it. He wandered around the tarmac, driving us, literally, around the entire airport until arriving at our poor, lonely plane in the back forty. It was a bit like parking at the shopping mall and wondering where you left the car when you come out. It was a 737 Max 8 and I think they were keeping it away from the other planes so they didn't catch whatever it had.

  Interesting tidbit. In Iceland they don't let you skateboard aboard the bus:

  I thought maybe they were concerned about kids hitching a ride off the rear bumper a la Marty McFly except we were at the airport! I'm not sure I've ever seen anyone skateboarding at the airport. Well, once they've seen that sign I'm sure no one will try it now. Anyway, the flight home was as uneventful as the first leg of the trip and, bonus, we crossed Greenland under a cloudless sky.

  We arrived home to a find all the kids with one kind of sickness or another, happy to see them all just the same.

  This was our first overseas house sit. It was interesting and exotic and fun, mostly. We went to places where no one goes, saw things no one sees and did things no one does. When we're old and gray we'll tell our grandchildren about the time we tried to break into the UK radar base atop Mount Olympus and caused a general alarm attracting all the UN peacekeepers within fifty kilometers. Ok. We told our grandchildren that when we got home and none of them believed it. None of you believed it either but I'll bet it made you snicker, just a bit.

  We've now been home a few days and our next trip is just around the corner. We'll be motoring down to coastal Virginia, a place called Hardyville (look it up). The house is right on the water and they have a dock and kayaks so this promises to be one of our better house sits. There's a decent golf course fifteen minutes away and some passable restaurants within a short drive. It's not close enough to Washington to spend any time there but we're scheduled to do another house sit in Baltimore for a week after this sit so we can do that in May.

  When we return home after Baltimore it will have been almost a year since we started this adventure. We'll stay home for the summer before heading to points unknown in October but I'm planning on writing a "best of" episode covering all the fun times and interesting things we saw and did during our first year on the road.

  Until then I'll keep posting our experiences for all you faithful readers.

Some Thoughts on Greece

   We're winding down here in Greece. We saw all the things we wanted to see and now we're hanging out in Volos, just chillin'.

  We're here until Tuesday, then we make our way back to Athens before catching our flight back to Canada Wednesday, presuming the airport workers in Frankfurt aren't carrying out their threatened strike action.

  On our way here we stopped at Delphi and caught up with the Oracle and Apollo. Here's the ruin of the Temple of Apollo:

  It seems the whole "Oracle of Delphi" thing is very much like the American evangelistic thing, only ancient. The Oracle, Pythia, would hang out at the Temple near a vent that emitted a gas of some sort that would put her in a trance. People would come to her to gain guidance on the difficult decisions in their lives and she would "channel" Apollo and provide advice. For that service they would pay her tribute in the form of money, statues, jewellery, etc.

  The thing is, while she was in this trance she would speak "in tongues" which could only be understood by the people who attended her. I think I've heard this one before. They would interpret her answers in language the petitioner could understand. Sure. Think of her as the ancient Magic 8-Ball. "Oh great priestess. Should I marry my sister?" Mumbo jumbo results, which is interpreted as, "Go for it, it worked for Zeus." This might be connected to the downfall of Greece, but that's only my opinion. Also, Apollo, god of music was also known as god of ambiguity. Go figure.

  It's also worth noting Delphi was the centre of the world. How do we know? Well, it seems Zeus released two eagles, one to the east and one to the west. Where they met he threw down an egg-shaped rock called the omphalos which denoted that spot.

  That Zeus. When he wasn't marrying his sister or posing for wonder of the ancient world-type statues he was, like, Mr. Google Maps. "Hey Zeus. Show me nearby Chinese restaurants." I'll bet his directions wouldn't make you drive into a lake or the wrong way down a one-way street. I mean, he's a god!

  Speaking of driving, before we came to Greece I read many articles which warned against driving here. The drivers are aggressive, the streets are narrow, no one pays attention to speed limits, etc. Similarly, when we arrived in Cyprus, Penny (the homeowner) warned us about the "crazy Cypriot drivers". I must have driven over two thousand kilometers in these two countries over the past five weeks and I've not seen anything to dissuade me from driving here. Obviously, anyone who complains about driving in this part of the world hasn't driven in Toronto during rush hour. Piece of cake, this.

  There was one instance where it wasn't, and it was entirely my fault. You see, back when we were going to Poseidon's Temple the road switched sides as we entered the parking loop. What that means is, we're driving on the right side and suddenly have to switch to the left to enter the loop that goes clockwise around the site.

  When you come out, the road empties into, what was, the right side of the incoming road. No sign to tell you to switch back over to the other lane. Being the day after we left Cyprus, I was still in "driving on the left" mode so thought nothing of continuing that... until another car decided to use my lane in the opposite direction. Well, no one got hurt but the look on the other guy's face was priceless. I'll bet he didn't make the same mistake when he came out later. Would it have been too hard to make the parking loop counter-clockwise? Sigh.

  Meanwhile, with Delphi done we headed up Mount Parnassus, eight thousand feet above sea level, as the road doesn't go around it but over it. No guard rails either. Penny was not thrilled. It was quite a view.

  From there we headed to Kalambaka, which is the jumping off point for Meteora, and a night at the Arsenis Guesthouse. I mention this not because this is a wonderful place to stay. Rather, it was a unique experience, and I'm not referring to the three inch thick mattress. Our host, Costa, was lonely. He runs the place with his wife and his parents live there too. This time of year the place is deserted and those are the only people he sees so, fresh meat. I'm sure he repeated at least four times his family history and how the Internet ruined his business and that Lonely Planet writer didn't help either and the Germans and Dutch and Belgians are the best people and those damn Greek Mafia don't tell Americans to come to his place because of that damn AirBnB and... you get the picture. It was tiring. And the food was crap. Don't go there. I'm sure he'll add that damn Canadian to his list after this.

  We escaped the guesthouse the next morning and took off for the monasteries perched atop the rock formations of Meteora.

  To say these aren't prime building lots is understating things just a bit. Great view but they ignored rule number one... location, location, location. I mean, these places will never sell.

  There were originally twenty-four monasteries built here between the fourteenth and sixteenth centuries. Only six are still operating and all allow visitors. We decided to visit two, Varlaam and Holy Trinity. Varlaam was the more interesting with access to many of the buildings as well as a museum which contained a library of scripts more than five hundred years old.

  Holy Trinity, although much less interesting did have one major thing going for it. The climactic scene in the James Bond movie, For Your Eyes Only, has our hero scaling the cliffs in pursuit of the villain. Of course we had to go up there!

  This is why I go to the gym 😂. These bridges, paths and stairs were only recently constructed in the past century. Before that the only way to get up to the monasteries was to be hauled up in a net, pulled by a rope.

  I'll take the stairs, thanks.

  That was it for our quest for all things historic. We originally planned to go to Vergina to see the ruins of Phillip II's palace, where his son, Alexander (not yet The Great) was crowned but we're all historied out. No more ruins, please. We've had five days of intense ancient history and we're ready to zone out with umbrella drinks, thus we're in Volos now.

  It's a nice town with decent restaurants. We had a great dinner last night with no french fries in sight, unlike literally every other meal we've had. We're looking for more of the same the next two days and maybe we'll get the chance to soak up some rays.

  Greece has been great and we agree we'd come back. We've not been to any islands and I feel we've had a non-typical Grecian experience. We've ignored the beach and party scene which the islands are known for, since it's not warm enough, and absorbed a ton of fascinating ancient history. We've seen some beautiful scenery, stayed in a few places we'd happily revisit and generally enjoyed the tour.

  We visited Athens and saw all the things. Since it's the off-season it was cheap and uncrowded. We toured the mainland and saw all the things. The car rental, for nine days, was only $110 CAD, about $9/day. We have a tiny car but it fits two of us and our luggage, gets great gas mileage and has no trouble fitting into narrow spots any other car could only do without its mirrors and paint.

  We stayed in some wonderful inns and hotels and none of them cost us more than $80 CAD. Restaurant meals are close to Canadian prices but they include all the fries you can eat. All in all, it was an inexpensive trip and very enjoyable.

  Wednesday we're back home for two and a half weeks before we head off to Virginia for our next house sit. Stay tuned for more thrills and spills.

Greece Tour - Days 1-4

  Hey gang. First, I did end up getting a t-shirt. In Greece. Box checked. That takes care of unfinished business. Now, on to current affairs.

  Penny and George, our homeowners in Cyprus, arrived home on schedule so we could get out of town on Monday. They dropped us at the Paphos airport so we could pick up a rental car to drive to Larnaca, where our return flight to Athens awaited us. Except, not so fast. When I showed up at the Sixt Rental Car desk and presented my license and credit card, as I have probably done a hundred times around the world, I was told I didn't qualify to rent one of their shiny cars. "Why?", you might ask, as did I. Did they uncover some previous traffic infraction? Had I been convicted of drunk driving in absentia? Was I a sleepwalking axe murderer? As it turns out, none of the above.

  When I asked for an explanation I was told I hadn't been driving long enough to satisfy their insurance company. Really. Let's see. I got my license in 1974. That makes fifty years of driving. Not enough? Strange. You see, the problem was that I had renewed my license in 2023 and Ontario driving licenses don't show how long you've been licensed. As far as the nice lady was concerned, I'd only been driving for one year. She asked if I had the old license. Sure. I always carry all my expired licenses as well as health cards, old license plates from every car I've owned as well as all my bank statements since I was twelve. She couldn't let me rent a car without proof I'd been driving at least three years.

  "But wait!", I said, "Your Larnaca airport desk rented me the car I used to get to Paphos a month ago." I showed her the emailed contract. I politely asked her to call her manager to straighten this out. She did as requested and, after a lot of "Yes" and "Uh huh" and "of course" she hung up and said, "No". I was flabbergasted. I explained I'd rented from Sixt in Larnaca and Johannesberg and Cape Town and Mauritius. All those other people said I was a qualified driver. "No." I asked her to call the Larnaca airport Sixt manager and she said the person she just spoke to was the very same. "Why did they rent to me a month ago?", I said, getting very irritated. "Please sir, there's no reason to get agitated", was the response. "So", I said, "you're prepared to let me walk away and rent from someone else?" Like a good rental car Nazi she responded, "I'm just following orders". Idiot. The guys next door were happy to rent me a car.

  Tucked away in our non-Sixt rental car we headed down the motorway to Larnaca, stopping briefly in Limassol to check out this building we saw from the highway. It looked more spectacular from there but, since we drove all the way down there to get this picture, it's going in the damn blog!

  We eventually got to Larnaca and, after a forty-five minute delay, found ourselves winging our way to Athens for new adventures. "Now", you might ask, "did you get a rental car in Athens?" Damn right I did. I even decided to risk having another rental clerk discover I had no evidence of the other forty-nine years driving experience, asking if it was a rule at Budget. He looked at me like I had two heads. "Sir", he said, rather uncomfortably, "you look like you've been driving much longer than three years." I'm not sure if it was a compliment or an insult but I smiled and thanked him for his common sense. I didn't care if he thought I was ancient. He was giving me a car! And so our Greek adventure began.

  We spent the night at a wonderful little place at Cape Suniou, which is the southernmost tip of the Attica peninsula where Athens is located. It is not what Phil Collins was wailing about in  that horrid song from the 90's. The hotel posted this tidbit in the dining room:

  That Alexander The Great was great! Cape Sounio is where the ancients built the Temple of Poseidon and it wasn't hard to find. After driving for ten minutes there, on top of a hill overlooking the Mediterranean, was the Temple.

  Now, after a month in Cyprus looking at ruins upon ruins, this was a sight for sore eyes: intact pillars, roof beams, foundations... and marble! It was like they built it to last, unlike those pikers chasing after Aphrodite, the slut, in Cyprus. Aphrodite was here. Aphrodite was there. She was everywhere, with any guy who'd have her. Poseidon, on the other hand, got a temple on a hill projecting power out into the Med. With marble. What a guy.

  This place was like a cool drink of water after days in the desert. We drank it up, climbing all over the hill to see everything it offered. We noticed how the pillar construction was different than those we saw at the Acropolis in Athens. The sections were smaller and the flutes carved into them were a bit cruder - obviously older than what we saw in the big city. Maybe, being located in a more remote location they had less skilled craftsmen or less labour. Or maybe this was a precursor to the Athenian temples. Since we're not archaeologists we'll have to speculate... or ask the Google. Some other time. It was impressive nonetheless.

  While wandering around the site I found this inscription on a foundation stone:

  I ran the image through Google Translate and it came back with "Mortanist". No idea. If there's any ancient Greek scholars out there I'd love to know what that means.

  After a couple of hours we'd seen all there was to see so we headed off to the Peloponnese. This is the peninsula where the Myceneans lived three millennia ago when Homer wrote about them in the Iliad and the Odyssey. This is where the Spartans came from. This is where the first Olympics happened. Now this is history. This is Poseidon.

Penny took a picture of his butt but he's a god so I won't humiliate him by publishing it here.

  Our first stop was the Corinth Canal. For two thousand years, going back to Alexander The Great, Greeks tried to dig a canal linking the Saronic Gulf on the Med with the Gulf of Corinth and the Ionian Sea, cutting three hundred miles off the trip. It wasn't until the late nineteenth century, after the success of the Suez Canal, that the technology existed to actually complete the project, thus turning the Peloponnese from a peninsula into an island. Anyway, the canal itself is not particularly interesting, as canals go, but it does have a submersible bridge at each end. Yes, you heard me. Submersible. When ships are in the canal the bridges are lowered to the bottom, approximately eleven metres below the surface, and are raised after they pass. Sometimes they catch fish on the way back up so the bridge operators get free dinner. Cool.

  We stopped for lunch at a taverna overlooking one of the bridges, hoping to see it go into action as something on the order of eleven thousand ships a year use the canal. After an hour, nothing. Time for the Google, only to find out that the canal was undergoing repair work and would not re-open until the end of February. It's March, but only barely, so we cut them some slack, finished our lunch and headed off for Napflio, where we would spend the night. Along the way Penny spotted this, in a junkyard filled with old Volkswagens.

  Maybe it was for sale, I don't know. "Used only once. Great for carrying all the little Trojans. Low mileage." Although "Trojans" has a different meaning now, I guess.

  Now, we had no idea what to expect regarding Napflio. We knew it was situated on the Argolic Gulf so there would be a waterfront, but that was it. What a pleasant surprise this place was. A vibrant town centre teeming with shops, restaurants, a square with open air cafes, museums, ruins, castles. It had it all. Win. We stayed in a very classic bed and breakfast in the old town, inaccessible by car, although I tried. I ran out of navigable road about a hundred feet from the entrance and ended up reversing three blocks to get out of there as the alley was only slightly wider than our car. I did get my workout though, hauling baggage up the million steps to the hotel. Who needs the gym when you've got a million steps and luggage? We settled in then headed out for a bite at a waterfront cafe at sunset.

  That island out in the gulf is another Frankish fort. We've covered this before so no "frank" jokes, please. Also, it's not on fire. That's a reflection of the heater beside our table. Just so you know.

  The next morning after a wonderful breakfast we headed out to Mycenae to check out the place where Agamemnon, Perseus and the guys hung out back in the day. Again, impressive.

  

  The large blocks of the Lion gate make up what is known as the Cyclopean Wall. The legend claims the Cyclops helped build the wall (yo, read Homer). I think it's yet another example of extra-terrestrials dropping in and giving us a helping hand. Draw your own conclusions. The scale of the place was impressive with a terrific defensive position established on a hilltop with views all the way to the sea.

  With Mycenae behind us we returned to Napflio to check out the top of the town's mountain and the local castle ruins.

  And then it was off for points west and north as we completed our circumnavigation of the Peloponnese. We headed down to Kalamata for lunch but didn't get any olives. We did see lots of olive trees though:

  We also encountered the first in a series of comical faces on town streets around Greece. More on this later.

  We ended up in another of a series of tavernas catering to tourists. This time it was burgers. Kalamata itself didn't seem to be anything to write home about, so I won't. We continued to the west coast and stayed in a rundown beach community where we scared up a club sandwich for dinner. Sigh.

  That brings us to today. An hour from the down at the heels beach club lay the ruins of ancient Olympia. What an unbelievable cache of cultural history all assembled within a few acres. In this space the Greeks launched the first Olympics. They built temples to Zeus and Hera. They enshrined the principles of fair play. It attracted all the biggest names of the time, Phillip II (Alexander's father), Ptolemy II of Egypt, Nero of fiddling fame. It was like a giant Grauman's Chinese Theater. You know. Where all the Hollywood stars stick their hands in wet cement. Well, maybe it was better than that, but you get the picture. It attracted a veritable who's who of the ancient world.

  We started at the gymnasium where the athletes practiced before competitions.

  Try to imagine it with walls and a roof. It's about a hundred metres long with columns down both sides. There. Now you've got it. From there we explored the temple where the priests conducted sacrifices before the games.

  Beside this building was the studio where Phidias sculpted the giant statue of Zeus that would stand in the temple bearing his name. Note the construction of the walls of his studio:

  Quite stylish for 435 BC! Anyway, we sauntered over to the Temple of Zeus to see where the statue sat.

  Yes. Right there in the middle. Well, if it still existed that's where it would be. The same statue of Zeus that's one of the seven wonders of the ancient world. The only wonder still in existence is the Great Pyramid of Giza but we were right next to where Zeus' statue sat... if it still existed.

  Oh, almost forgot. Lego.

  Then we wandered over to the Stadium. In front of it was a pillar atop which sat the original Winged Victory statue.

  The athletes entered through this arch.

  Forty-five thousand spectators would side on the grassy hillsides surrounding the running track to watch the events.

  Before the games began all the athletes and judges swore an oath of honesty and fair play, promising to give their greatest effort in the name of sportsmanship. It was very similar to the oath modern Olympians swear today. If any of the competitors was caught cheating they were fined, with the money going towards a small statue of Zeus. Underneath each of these statues was the cheater's name and a description of his dastardly deeds.

  There are sixteen of these "Zones" (plural of "Zeus") but only the bases remain. From there it was on to the Temple of Hera. You might recognize it since this is where they light the Olympic Flame which has then been carried by hand to every modern Olympics site since 1936.

  Fun fact. When I said "carried by hand" I wasn't exaggerating. A relay is run from Olympia to each Olympic site. When they have to cross an ocean the flame is kept in a secure lamp on board the airplane so that it is never extinguished during its journey. They'll be doing it again April 16 for the Paris Summer Olympics.

  Finally, we stopped at the Phillippeion, a structure dedicated to Phillip II, Alexander The Great's father.

  It was a round, pillared structure which contained statues of Phillip, Alexander, and the rest of Phillip's family. It's the only structure at Olympia dedicated to humans.

  With that we were done. So much history and culture wrapped up in one small place. It seemed like all our modern society's mores and principles were defined in this place over three thousand years ago. It was both exciting and humbling and an experience we'll always carry with us.

  Now then, back to the big face in Kalamata. The Greeks are very religious and Easter is the most special of holidays. Carnival starts ten weeks before Easter and lasts until Clean Monday, the first day of Lent. Eleven days before the end the country shuts down for Meat Thursday. All the tavernas bring their grills out to the street and cook meat all day. The smell of barbecued pork is everywhere and people dress up similarly to Mardi Gras. Big carnival statues pop up on street corners everywhere.

  It's quite a show and we saw it first hand in the town of Patras as we were looking for lunch. An unsatisfying lunch, again, but the town was certainly having a good time.

  The rest of our day was spent driving to Delphi where we'll be checking out where the Oracle of Delphi hung out twenty-five hundred years ago. To get there we first had to cross the Gulf of Corinth from Patras using this sparkling new bridge.

  And a great bridge it was. It had a great toll too, which might explain why we were the only people using it. After we crossed we had to pay fifteen Euros. Highway robbery. Well. Bridge robbery. Anyway, it was faster than driving around the Gulf for eight hours.

  With that out of the way we wound our way up the mountains. Really. Here's what my Google Maps screen looked like:

  We finally arrived at Delphi where we're staying in a wonderful inn on a mountainside, overlooking the Gulf and surrounding hills.

  Oh. And we had a terrific dinner which didn't include chips and salad, pizza, burgers, club sandwiches or any other such crap. We had farm to table classic Greek food and it was worth the drive.

  Wow. That was a lot to cover. I would have published last night but the crappy joint we stayed in had spotty Internet so I couldn't connect long enough to do anything. Apologies for the long read but I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as we did doing it.