Greece > The Mountain Village of Kalavryta

Today I continue my journey to the Peloponnesos, the southern peninsula of mainland Greece. The peninsula can only be reached via Corinth or via the Rio–Antirrio Bridge over the Gulf of Corinth. Today’s journey is to Olympia, and the bridge is the fastest route. By bus, I descend the mountainside from Delphi to Itea for the last time. Along the coast, we head toward Nafpaktos, the town where we stopped the day before yesterday. This time, we stop a little further at Antirrio for coffee. The Rio–Antirrio Bridge, at 2,880 meters long, is the longest cable-stayed bridge in the world with multiple spans. Crossing the bridge brings us onto the Peloponnesos. We do not follow the main road to Olympia but drive through the mountains to Kalavryta. To reach this mountain village, we follow the Vouraikos Gorge along the river of the same name. The river has carved a deep gorge through the rocks. As we follow the river, we climb higher and higher into the mountains. In the mountain village of Kalavryta, a tragedy occurred during World War II. In a German reprisal, all the villagers were rounded up. The men were executed on a nearby mountain, while women and children were locked inside a school building, which was then set on fire. The village itself was subsequently burned down. By breaking some windows, women and children managed to escape. Except for a few, all the men perished. Just outside the village, we visit the impressive memorial. In a small chapel, candles are burning, and the names of all the victims are inscribed on the monument. We have two hours to have lunch and possibly visit the museum. I had already bought a sandwich earlier this morning and choose instead to hike into the mountains. A mountain pass leads to the Prophet Elias Church. Just outside the village, the road climbs steeply. I doubt whether it’s wise to undertake this walk during the hottest part of the day, but I press on.

Greece - View of the lower village of Kalavryta

With every turn, the village behind me becomes smaller and smaller, and the mountain views grow more beautiful. After about forty-five minutes, I arrive at the small church, having walked roughly three kilometers. The building is no bigger than a barn. As I had expected, the church is not open for visitors. Everything is quiet and deserted. From a bench, I enjoy the view over the mountains. In the valley below, I can see Kalavryta. It’s a perfect spot to eat my lunch. Afterwards, I begin the descent back to the village. The last leg by bus to Olympia also winds through the mountains. Jorgos, the driver, had learned from colleagues that he could take a smaller bus along the backroad route. It would not have been possible with a full-sized coach. The descent is filled with sharp hairpin turns. Sometimes Jorgos must maneuver carefully to make the bends. As we approach the small village, the road becomes narrower and rougher. It hardly resembles a main road. The turns follow each other in quick succession, sometimes almost merging into one. This makes the descent rapid. Jorgos steers the bus carefully through the bends and along the narrow road. He visibly relaxes once we reach the main road again. Around 5:30 PM, we drive onto the grounds of our hotel in Olympia—a good hotel just outside the town center. That evening, when I try to go to sleep, a lamp remains on. I try every switch, but the light stays on. Strange. There must be a switch somewhere. I walk around the room once more. I consider removing the keycard, which would cut the power in the entire room—but then my phone would stop charging as well. Should I go to the reception? Then I discover a switch hidden behind the headboard of the bed. I slide the bed forward ten centimeters. Bingo. Who thinks of that?