Doorways and Stairways

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Through the Labyrinth

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In the lower town, a shaded crumbly passage leads out to a
toothy walkway at the very edge of the sea.

Roving the Turns and Corners

Gino and I spent the remaining hours roving the turns and corners of every passage. Deciding to expand our walk around to the other side of the promontory where a lighthouse was rooted, we crossed the safety of the fortress wall, following a line of red arrows and dots spray-painted onto the jagged rocks to point the way. But not much daylight was left — as darkness descended, our painted path dimmed and we abandoned our expedition.

“To Kanoni” restaurant overlooking Monemvasia’s main square. Dinner was incredible. We learned later this fabulous little place had been featured in the New York Times and Gourment magazine. Now I know why.

At dinnertime, the restaurant owner was pleased to see us saunter up. We were pleased to be the only Americans. Spanish, German, and Greek swirled from table to table. I shared my fresh fish with the numerous cats lounging within reach. A couple from Switzerland sat at an adjacent table and we visited. They had been to the US and would like to return, especially to see Yellowstone Park, but the oppressive restrictions foreigners now face as they come through customs seems too daunting.

That night as we walked back to our room, the sky was a black velvet canopy sprinkled with brilliant stars close enough to flick. The Milky Way, obliterated by light pollution back home, cut a speckled swath through sparkling diamonds. Heaven.

September 18, 2007 – Scaling the Mura Rossa

At 3:00 a.m., I startled awake. Poking my head out our balcony, I was greeted by Orion, my favorite constellation since childhood, glittering brightly in the sky. It was as if he was offering a secret welcome, just for me. I woke again at 7:00, nudging Gino awake to join me for the sunrise on our tiny terrace. Leaning back in our chairs, we faced east, silent as the birds chirped their morning melody. Yellow-orange, the sun slowly rose from the glowing water, bathing the world in gold and rosy hues. It was my favorite moment of the trip.

Looking more like Morocco, sand-colored houses rest in the lower town, the edge of the upper town providing a lofty backyard.

After breakfast in the cave room downstairs, we attacked the steep steps which led up to the tip top of this Greek Gibraltar. This upper town, first built by the Venetians and later inhabited by the Turks, is now completely deserted, the last inhabitant having left in 1911. We tried to guess where he had made his home. The remains of crumbling structures littered the mountain, some still quite intact.

Picturesque ruins share the top of the plateau with fragrant herbs and weeds.

 

The upper town towers above the lower town. Although its lofty perch protected it from attackers, it was also totally dependent on its lower neighbor for all of its supplies.

The Agia Sofia church. Although believed to have been built in the 1200’s, it may be even older. With its brick and stone exterior and a 16-sided drum supporting its dome, it is very similar to the famous monastery at Daphni, near Athens.

The most impressive was the church of Agia Sofia, poised on the edge of the cliff, calling its ancient mariners home. Inside this cloud-kissed church, fading frescoed murals add to its atmosphere of mystery.

The citadel at the very top overlooks the entire area in every direction. It was hot, but we scarcely noticed as we scaled the final feet. Looking over the blue-green depths, we saw the island of Samos lying purple in the distance. On our way down, the Swiss couple from dinner the night before were just on their way up.