Revisiting the Peloponnese years after his first magical holiday there, Matthew Kneale fears the euro crisis will have taken its toll. But the peninsula is faring well – and even the cooking is better
We wouldn't have thought of going to Greece except that one of our daughter's best friends, Nefeli, was from there. "It's fine outside Athens," her parents assured us. "Even Athens isn't too bad if you keep away from Syntagma Square." Visions of teargas vanished. Years ago I had visited the Peloponnese and thought it magical. We decided to give it a try.
Still, I wasn't sure what to expect. Would shop shelves be empty? Would we feel guilty holidaying in a country where many are struggling?
Our first stop was Monemvasia, a Peloponnesian Gibraltar lodged beneath a great rock linked to the land by a causeway. In the dying days of the Byzantine empire it was a thriving port and pirate base, with almost 60,000 inhabitants, but after the Turkish conquest it entered a long decline.
I remembered it as a place of steep steps and winding alleys, of beautiful churches and overgrown, abandoned houses, and an atmosphere of great days long past. To my delight it was little changed. There were more hotels, shops and restaurants, but it was still half ruined. We stayed in a small hotel of restored old houses and enjoyed a dinner of stuffed vine leaves and swordfish at a restaurant with sweeping views along the coast, watching as the sun set and then the moon glittered in reflection over the sea.
From Monemvasia we drove along empty roads to the Mani peninsula. This is a vast, mountainous piece of land, wild and windswept. Its inhabitants, known for their toughness, kick-started the war of independence against the Turks in the 19th century and fought interminable blood feuds. Families would remain holed up in their tower houses for years, taking pot shots at each other while the women, who were usefully immune from attack, scurried out to do the shopping.
The Mani had developed a little since my last visit, and its coastline was now lightly sprinkled with homes and resorts, yet these reflected the style of the old Maniot tower houses and did not spoil the vast emptiness of the landscape. We stayed in a hotel complex clinging to the steep hillside. In the evenings we walked down to the nearby village of Limeni to eat in restaurants with tables right above the waves, so you could watch your fish being caught and then enjoy it as the sun went down.
After leaving Limeni we drove along the coast, dotted with ancient villages, to Kalamata, and then headed north to Nafplio. After the Mani this was a greener, gentler Peloponnese. Nafplio, which for a brief spell was independent Greece's first capital, is a likable place, wedged between harbour and hilltop fortress, and though touristy it is not oppressively so. We stayed a few kilometres outside the town, in a peaceful, eco-friendly hotel surrounded by olive groves.
The main reason to visit this corner of the Peloponnese was not Nafplio. We saw the palace citadel of Mycenae, just a short drive north. The glory days of the Mycenaeans, destroyers of Troy in Homer's Iliad, were eight centuries before those of classical Greece. It is a smallish site, and yet even with a tour bus or two it is still an extraordinary place.
Walking through the impressive Lion Gate you could sense its rulers' confidence. At the rear of the town you could sense their fears. Here, by the light of other tourists' iPhones, we descended the steep, dark, secret cistern built to give a sure water supply during attacks. It was not enough to save Mycenae. Shortly after the cistern was constructed, the settlement was destroyed by Viking-style raiders – the mysterious "Peoples of the Sea".
Finally we saw nearby Epidaurus, a Lourdes of classical Greece. The sick travelled here from far away to drink the spring water and hope to have visions of the healing god Asclepius in the form of a snake. What drew us was the magnificent amphitheatre, the finest of its kind, that has acoustics so perfect that from the back row one can hear, from the centre of the stage, the faintest rustle of paper.
Had any of my worries been realised? Everyone we met was friendly and went far out of their way to help us – though there was no mistaking that these were tough times. Hotels and restaurants felt subdued. Worst affected were those that depended on Greek tourists. Yet there is no use in people sensitively staying away. Greece needs visitors.
In fact I was struck by how much, despite the crisis, the country had moved forward since my last visit. Clearly not all of Greece's borrowed funds had vanished into the sand. Our journey times were halved thanks to new motorways. The hotels we stayed in were stylish and modern. In place of the dripping taps I recalled, showers gushed. Dining, too, was transformed. Everywhere we went we found delicious, imaginative dishes of excellent, freshly cooked ingredients.
And to my relief, it was anything but spoiled. The Peloponnese is still the quieter Greece I remembered. In part this is probably down to its coast, which is rocky, with few sandy beaches, discouraging the crowds that flock to the islands. Yet lack of paddling opportunities seems a small price to pay for the preservation of this beautiful and very special corner of Europe.
*Essentials
*
*Hotels*
(all prices quoted below are for quadruple rooms)
Likinia Hotel (Monemvasia) €140
Limeni Village Hotel (Mani) €100
Hotel Perivoli (near Nafplio) €140
*Restaurants*
(Meals cost around €70-80 for four, with wine. A tasty lunch of kebabs and soft drinks is €15-20 for four.)
Matoula in Monemvasia
Telonio in Limeni
Hotel Perivoli near Nafplio
Phone hotels directly rather than booking online through agencies, and you may get lower rates, and all payment will go to the hotel
Be aware that while hotels generally accept cards, many restaurants, shops and even some ferry ticket offices only take cash
Matthew Kneale's An Atheist's History of Belief is published by the Bodley Head Press in October Reported by guardian.co.uk 4 hours ago.
We wouldn't have thought of going to Greece except that one of our daughter's best friends, Nefeli, was from there. "It's fine outside Athens," her parents assured us. "Even Athens isn't too bad if you keep away from Syntagma Square." Visions of teargas vanished. Years ago I had visited the Peloponnese and thought it magical. We decided to give it a try.
Still, I wasn't sure what to expect. Would shop shelves be empty? Would we feel guilty holidaying in a country where many are struggling?
Our first stop was Monemvasia, a Peloponnesian Gibraltar lodged beneath a great rock linked to the land by a causeway. In the dying days of the Byzantine empire it was a thriving port and pirate base, with almost 60,000 inhabitants, but after the Turkish conquest it entered a long decline.
I remembered it as a place of steep steps and winding alleys, of beautiful churches and overgrown, abandoned houses, and an atmosphere of great days long past. To my delight it was little changed. There were more hotels, shops and restaurants, but it was still half ruined. We stayed in a small hotel of restored old houses and enjoyed a dinner of stuffed vine leaves and swordfish at a restaurant with sweeping views along the coast, watching as the sun set and then the moon glittered in reflection over the sea.
From Monemvasia we drove along empty roads to the Mani peninsula. This is a vast, mountainous piece of land, wild and windswept. Its inhabitants, known for their toughness, kick-started the war of independence against the Turks in the 19th century and fought interminable blood feuds. Families would remain holed up in their tower houses for years, taking pot shots at each other while the women, who were usefully immune from attack, scurried out to do the shopping.
The Mani had developed a little since my last visit, and its coastline was now lightly sprinkled with homes and resorts, yet these reflected the style of the old Maniot tower houses and did not spoil the vast emptiness of the landscape. We stayed in a hotel complex clinging to the steep hillside. In the evenings we walked down to the nearby village of Limeni to eat in restaurants with tables right above the waves, so you could watch your fish being caught and then enjoy it as the sun went down.
After leaving Limeni we drove along the coast, dotted with ancient villages, to Kalamata, and then headed north to Nafplio. After the Mani this was a greener, gentler Peloponnese. Nafplio, which for a brief spell was independent Greece's first capital, is a likable place, wedged between harbour and hilltop fortress, and though touristy it is not oppressively so. We stayed a few kilometres outside the town, in a peaceful, eco-friendly hotel surrounded by olive groves.
The main reason to visit this corner of the Peloponnese was not Nafplio. We saw the palace citadel of Mycenae, just a short drive north. The glory days of the Mycenaeans, destroyers of Troy in Homer's Iliad, were eight centuries before those of classical Greece. It is a smallish site, and yet even with a tour bus or two it is still an extraordinary place.
Walking through the impressive Lion Gate you could sense its rulers' confidence. At the rear of the town you could sense their fears. Here, by the light of other tourists' iPhones, we descended the steep, dark, secret cistern built to give a sure water supply during attacks. It was not enough to save Mycenae. Shortly after the cistern was constructed, the settlement was destroyed by Viking-style raiders – the mysterious "Peoples of the Sea".
Finally we saw nearby Epidaurus, a Lourdes of classical Greece. The sick travelled here from far away to drink the spring water and hope to have visions of the healing god Asclepius in the form of a snake. What drew us was the magnificent amphitheatre, the finest of its kind, that has acoustics so perfect that from the back row one can hear, from the centre of the stage, the faintest rustle of paper.
Had any of my worries been realised? Everyone we met was friendly and went far out of their way to help us – though there was no mistaking that these were tough times. Hotels and restaurants felt subdued. Worst affected were those that depended on Greek tourists. Yet there is no use in people sensitively staying away. Greece needs visitors.
In fact I was struck by how much, despite the crisis, the country had moved forward since my last visit. Clearly not all of Greece's borrowed funds had vanished into the sand. Our journey times were halved thanks to new motorways. The hotels we stayed in were stylish and modern. In place of the dripping taps I recalled, showers gushed. Dining, too, was transformed. Everywhere we went we found delicious, imaginative dishes of excellent, freshly cooked ingredients.
And to my relief, it was anything but spoiled. The Peloponnese is still the quieter Greece I remembered. In part this is probably down to its coast, which is rocky, with few sandy beaches, discouraging the crowds that flock to the islands. Yet lack of paddling opportunities seems a small price to pay for the preservation of this beautiful and very special corner of Europe.
*Essentials
*
*Hotels*
(all prices quoted below are for quadruple rooms)
Likinia Hotel (Monemvasia) €140
Limeni Village Hotel (Mani) €100
Hotel Perivoli (near Nafplio) €140
*Restaurants*
(Meals cost around €70-80 for four, with wine. A tasty lunch of kebabs and soft drinks is €15-20 for four.)
Matoula in Monemvasia
Telonio in Limeni
Hotel Perivoli near Nafplio
Phone hotels directly rather than booking online through agencies, and you may get lower rates, and all payment will go to the hotel
Be aware that while hotels generally accept cards, many restaurants, shops and even some ferry ticket offices only take cash
Matthew Kneale's An Atheist's History of Belief is published by the Bodley Head Press in October Reported by guardian.co.uk 4 hours ago.