After enjoying the cosmopolitan Salonika (Thessaloniki) for five days, I headed inland to the town of Kalambaka and the famous site of Meteora. Kalambaka is a semi-arid town that quickly reminded me of a typical small town in Eastern Washington, small and secluded yet big enough to accommodate a large amount of tourists (and filled with fast food). Behind this town, which sits on a flat plain, erupts the rocks of Meteora and the monasteries on them. After the fall of the Byzantine Empire the Ottomans continued to sweep through Greece like a wave, and in order to preserve their hermit status and avoid the bloodshed the hermits that inhabited the many caves of the area built their monasteries upon these huge dramatic heaps of stone, knowing the Turks would not bother expend the effort to disturb them. At the time the monasteries were only accessible by removable ladders or compartments that could be pulled up by a system of ropes and pulleys, but nowadays beautiful slate walkways greet the tourists that visit this place. Waking up early so as not to be rushed in seeing each one, I rented a scooter and zoomed up the switchback roads to the tops of these dramatic rocks. Nowadays two of the monasteries are now inhabited by nuns, and it was one of these that I first visited. As I walked in I couldn't help but laugh at how unexpected a nunnery it was. A ticket booth greeted my arrival and inside was a nun jabbering away on a cellphone. Without interrupting her conversation whatsoever she held the phone between her shoulder and her ear and issued me my ticket and took my money. I walked through the entry and came upon a courtyard that looked upon the rocks, the town below, and several other monasteries within sight. Going back inside I walked through the monastery, having to hunch over the entire time, and found a small church. The church was ordained with frescoes depicting the Roman persecution, torture, and slaughter of early Christians, and was lined with pews facing the small but lavishly decorated altar. No matter what religion you are, or even if you and God have parted ways long ago, you can't help put issue forth a small prayer of thanks for the opportunity to find yourself in such a beautiful, holy, and inaccessible site.
Hopping back on my scooter I continued up the hills, finally reaching the top of one of the rocks where a huge monastery was located, it's walls seemingly an extension of the rocks they sit upon. Unfortunately this one was closed (each monastery keeps completely different hours, making it nearly impossible to see each one on any day of the year), but I was lucky enough to watch their more modern form of transporting cargo between the road and the buildings, by cable car. And so the day continued with me flying from monastery to monastery upon a thin paved road on top of a giant cliff, dodging other cars and the occasional bus, and always increasing the throttle just a bit more. One monastery I came upon looked oddly familiar and I wondered immediately whether I hadn't seen it in some picture or another. The old rope and pulley system particularly caught my eye, and it wasn't until I entered that I found out that this monastery was in the James Bond film, For Your Eyes Only. The man who told me was a "monk-in-training" who spoke no English but whose mother tongue was conveniently Spanish. After talking with him about America and my family I joined him with another monk in his cell where he offered me some Turkish delight (the favorite candy in these parts) and his opinions on religion, which I hastily tried to understand through his speedy Spanish.
After excusing myself from the monastery I headed out to a small alcove paved over where I could park my scooter and hike out to the very precipice of the rocks, and, when I had finally worked up the courage, I dangled my feet and stared out over the other shapely rock formations, the town below, and the mountains beyond, watching the sun slip innocently behind them, and thus ending yet another day of my journey.
Hopping back on my scooter I continued up the hills, finally reaching the top of one of the rocks where a huge monastery was located, it's walls seemingly an extension of the rocks they sit upon. Unfortunately this one was closed (each monastery keeps completely different hours, making it nearly impossible to see each one on any day of the year), but I was lucky enough to watch their more modern form of transporting cargo between the road and the buildings, by cable car. And so the day continued with me flying from monastery to monastery upon a thin paved road on top of a giant cliff, dodging other cars and the occasional bus, and always increasing the throttle just a bit more. One monastery I came upon looked oddly familiar and I wondered immediately whether I hadn't seen it in some picture or another. The old rope and pulley system particularly caught my eye, and it wasn't until I entered that I found out that this monastery was in the James Bond film, For Your Eyes Only. The man who told me was a "monk-in-training" who spoke no English but whose mother tongue was conveniently Spanish. After talking with him about America and my family I joined him with another monk in his cell where he offered me some Turkish delight (the favorite candy in these parts) and his opinions on religion, which I hastily tried to understand through his speedy Spanish.
After excusing myself from the monastery I headed out to a small alcove paved over where I could park my scooter and hike out to the very precipice of the rocks, and, when I had finally worked up the courage, I dangled my feet and stared out over the other shapely rock formations, the town below, and the mountains beyond, watching the sun slip innocently behind them, and thus ending yet another day of my journey.
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