Buying hash Kamena Vourla

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Buying hash Kamena Vourla

Sunday, October 26, Memories of Greece and Turkey. Posing in front of the Parthenon, atop the Acropolis in Athens. Y asas! This is the diary of my trip to Greece and Turkey in , my brother's and my annual trip this year. We had a fantastic time and I was so relieved about that! Since I was retired, I had time to plan each and every day of this 28 trip! It was a LOT of research and planning - I think I set a personal record for how much time and effort it took! But, I am proud to say that from a logistics perspective, everything went smoothly - our flights arrived on time, our rental cars were waiting for us as promised, our accommodations all worked out - from hotels to guesthouses to apartments. With all those worries aside, my brother and I could just focus on enjoying ourselves and boy, did we do just that! It's hard to summarize our trip in just a few words so I'm not even going to try. You've been warned :- Charming Nafplio. Our trip got off to a bit of a challenging start though, especially for Bro. Once we arrived in Athens, we had to immediately pick up our car and drive about two hours to the seaside town of Nafplio. Poor guy. Nafplio He lasted to about mid afternoon before exhaustion took over and he had to catch a short nap. It had been incredibly long travel day and he was understandably tired. On the other hand, adrenaline kept me up til bedtime so I explored a bit of the charming, small town while he napped. Watching the fishing boats come in to dock as we wait for dinner. Next day, we had just a couple of hours to explore Nafplio before we had to hit the road to get to our next destination. Our Greek road odyssey was beginning. We followed Ms. Google Maps through the main roads of the Peloponnese to arrive at a second seaside town, Katakolo where we enjoyed a lovely seaside dinner and spent the night. On our second full day in Greece, we visited the ancient ruins at Olympia. What a place! It's a lot of ruins and I mean ruins. To the uneducated person like me, it looked like a really large field of rocks. A lot of rocks. The museum was nice though. From Olympia, we headed inland to the mountains and the small town of Delphi. There, we visited another set of ruins at a site that was dedicated to the Greek god, Apollo. These were nicer ruins situated on a wonderful spot nestled in the mountains. I also really enjoyed the visit to the museum which housed the ruins from the site. My favorite room was the one that had the remains of the carved statues that once stood on the two pediments of the temple. Delphi Behind the wheel. Bro had taken on the responsibility for driving and I was the navigator. Our T-Mobile phone plan gives us free international data in countries and Greece is one of them so I was able to use Google Maps for free. Thank God because some of our accommodations were not on searchable on Garmin. We had no idea what the roads were going to be like but I can say that they are excellent! Our journey mainly took us on the main highways which you would expect would be smooth driving and they were. But the backroads were good as well - I think we have more potholes in the streets in my neighborhood than we encountered in Greece! The drives were long and so we had to make many a road stop. The best one was in the town of Lividi where we were introduced to pork souvlaki. Oh, I drool just at remember those skewers of grilled, luscious pork! Posing with Roussanou in the background. From Delphi, we continued our trip in to the heart of central Greece. Our next stop was my favorite place of the entire visit to Greece - Meteora. We weren't able to visit all six of the monasteries but the ones we were able to visit I think were the nicest of the lot. From a photography perspective, the nicest was Roussanou. From a tourist perspective, Grand Meteoron truly lives up to its name. Testing the water in Kamena Vourla. It's cold! Then, it was a short drive to another seaside town - Kamena Vourla. A sleepy place off the beaten tourist path. I had decided we needed a place to just rest up from all the driving that we had done up until this point in the trip. It turned out to be exactly that. We did nothing but eat and sleep. Our visit to Kamena Vourla ended our Greek road trip. Next day, we drove back to the airport in Athens, returned the rental car, took the train to Monastiraki, walked a few blocks and met up with our Airbnb host who introduced us to our apartment which we would call home for the next three days. Welcome to the big city! Highlights of our stay in Athens include spending time in the central market stocking up our fridge and pantry, visiting the Acropolis and Parthenon and seeing the famed evzones conduct the changing of the guard ceremony that takes place every day near the Parliament building by Syntagma Square. As a friend mine said to me about Athens, ruins are everywhere and indeed they are! By the end of the second day, we had had enough of ruins. Thankfully, Athens has green spaces to be enjoyed as well as lovely neighborhoods that beckon to be strolled through. Posing in front of the Erechtheion. Posing with an evzone. So cheesy :- Strolling through the Agora. More ruins. The National Garden. At the Temple of the Olympian Zeus. Strolling through the area around Anafiotika. Buying seafood at the central market. Standing outside the entrance to our apartment building. Our apartment was located in the Monastiraki neighborhood, very close to the Ommonia neighborhood. On the ground floor was a toy store, a women's clothing store and a coffee shop. It was nice not being in the tourist zone; to not be surrounded by souvenir shops and restaurants serving lousy Greek food prepared for foreigners. We stepped out each to the sights and sounds of Athenians going about their daily life. I loved it. Whipping up dinner in our apartment kitchen. We really enjoyed going to the central market, going every other day to pick up food items. We fell in love with the baby squid and octopus and had our first taste not good of mantis prawns. Except for one lunch, we cooked and ate all our meals in our apartment. As a cook and foodie, I loved experimenting with using local ingredients. Waiting for the train. Though we did a LOT of walking in the city, we did make good use of the Athens Metro system which is excellent. We never did figure out the ticketing system though when it came to the whole validating ticketing thing. Do you only do it once if you have a multi-day ticket or do you do it with each ride? From Athens, we headed to Santorini. Part of the time, we stayed in Oia and the other part in the more laid back seaside town of Kamari. Oia was nice but oh so, so, so very congested with tourists! While it was indeed a pretty place - it was the Greek sea village of my imagination, it was too touristic for my my tastes. A suggestion if you do go, get up early and catch the sunrise view. I think it's prettier than the sunset view and if you're lucky, there is no one else around to spoil the view and your time taking it in. Santorini at sunrise. The Trip. The Layover. Hello Greece! Road Trip to Katakolo. Where Athletes Once Battled it Out. Ancient Olymp What Say You, Oracle? On High. Grand Meteoron Monastery. Varlaam and St. Nicholas Monasteries. Kamena Vourla. Making it to the Big City. First Glances of Athens. The Parthenon. The Agora. More of Athens. Evzones and a Garden. The New Acropolis Museum. Ruins and Puppets. Santorini Sunrise. Settling In. Oia and Ammoudi Bay. Fira and Hopes Dashed. Last Views of Oia. Hello, Kamari. Visiting Santorini's Ancient Side. More Ruins. Ancient Thera. Perissa and Megalochori. Back to Athens. The National Archaelogical Museum. Hello Turkey! Along Marble Way. Curetes Way. The Grand Terrace Houses. The Journey Back to Greece. On Our Way. Visit to Mount Nemrut. The Commagene Kingdom. Arsameia, Septimus Severus The Beehive Homes of Harran. Visiting the Birthplace of Abraham. Zelve Open Air Museum. Devrent Imagination Valley. The Three Sisters. Sunset over the Red Valley. Ilhara Valley. Selime Monastery. Esentepe Panoramic Viewpoint. Baglidere White Valley. Istanbul, Here We Come! Yeni Cami New Mosque. To Water. The One. The Only. Aya Sopia. A Grand Mosque. Sultanahmet Cami. A Really Big Underground Pool. Exploring, Discovering, Enjoying. A Most Grand Palace. My Istanbul Food Obsessions. Tavuk Kanat and Loku A Museum and a Park. The Greek Islands. Mount Nemrut. The Elastic Ice Cream of Turkey. Kitchen Experiments. Glyko Karydaki. The Acropolis. Packing List. Trip Planning and Resources. Doing the Happy Dance! Labels: , Greece , Turkey , Turkey Newer Post Older Post Home. The cheerful cafe owner on the right and her equally cheerful employee on the left. At Efes with the Celcus Library in the background. Posing by a section of the defensive wall of Lykourgos Castle. It was cold and rainy but that deter me from exploring this fascinating place! The entrance to our apartment building was through the door on the left. One of my favorite vistas in Istanbul. Photo of Yeni Cami and the fish restaurants taken from the Bosphorus ferry.

Buying hash Kamena Vourla

The instability. The frustration, the anger—but those are not the constants. The pride. The loud voices, the grand gesticulations, the love of their country: those remain static. Greeks are fiercely patriotic and proud; at times stubborn and sardonic—but always faithful with a fighting spirit. Nevertheless, genuine fear has encroached upon the lives of many Greeks, and Summer , with the climax of the crisis, the outlook looked dire. If we had a few dollars to spend on a summer holiday, why not drop them in the country that is closest to my heart? That was one good reason, but seeing my Greek family took the top slot. I needed to be in Greece, see their faces, hear their stories, and—more selfishly—I wanted to stroll the streets of Athens, sip my Loumidis coffee on the balcony of our summer house, eat calamari with a xoriatiki salad, and visit an island with my favorite travelling partner. I drink wine by the kilo, eat lots of bread dipped in tzaziki , devour souvlakia filled with greasy gyro , suck on endless red Greek tomatoes—and I never step on a scale. There is a lightness inside that permeates outward, sucking away the fatness of stress. Being around Greeks, in Greece, recharges my battery. These people are beyond resilient, and this vivacity gives me strength. If Greeks can struggle, fight, and still laugh, then so can I. Despite the melee, Nike still seems to fly over Greece and, I believe, in time they will be victorious. One victory was tourism. Suffice it to say, tourism did not drop. In fact, as I walked the streets of various Greek cities, towns, and villages, on the mainland and on Skopelos island, I saw crowds of people, both Greeks and visitors, and I heard a lot of laughter. Playing with my cousins and their kids in the blue water of Vouliagmeni reminded me why Athens is my favorite city in the entire world. For a few euros, one enters and can stay all day; have the freedom to drink beer on the beach or have a freddo cappuccino, and then a club sandwich or a tyropita. Somewhere in between these districts is Nea Smirni, where my family reside, and where my mother owns a house. I adore the neighborhood and feel quite at home there as does my husband who has visited six times. The Express Bus takes about minutes; the Metro is also an option though it can take between 45 and 90 minutes. Next to Syntagma is Plaka. I love the walk from the Parliament down Ermou St. After souvenir and shoe shopping, we always eat at Thanasis, famous for its kebab plates. After eating, a picturesque walk to Thissio is a must-do. Street vendors, who come out after dark when the authorities are too tired to arrest them for illegal sales, line the streets with incredible handmade goods. I bought a pair of miniature tsarouhi traditional Greek shoes with pom-poms earrings from a lovely Russian woman who has been in Greece for twenty years. It reminded me, once more, how everyone has a story. We also met a Nigerian man a few days later in Kamena Vourla whose story was equally fascinating; selling burned CDs he told us that he was a graduate of the University of Athens and held a psychology degree. When I asked him if he was from one of those tribes, he responded that he was indeed an Igbo and a proud one at that. I had just finished the best-selling novel Amerikanah about a Nigerian woman living in the United States. Yes, everyone has a story. And every story is important. After a few days in Athens, we drove two and a half hours south, past the Corinth Channel to Epidavros where we visited its majestic theatre; built in B. The choice to build this theatre amidst a forest lay in the purposeful decision of the ancient Greeks; the ground was sacred, a magical healing center. I sat for a while, after pictures were taken, and digested the view, felt the lumpy marble that cooled my derriere, watched the tourists who stood at the bottom, yelling to their friends in the seats far above to test the strength of a natural speaker. The sky seemed especially blue, the trees too green to be real, and the clouds almost transparent. Surreal, magical, extraordinary. The next stop, about forty minutes from Epidavros, was a city that beheld a beauty of another sort; pink, yellow, and blue houses, a city center that reminded me of Venice, and not surprisingly since the Turks and the Venetians fought for this port city in the 13 th century. Above Nafplio, a grand Venetian Citadel graces the skyline. In August the heat can be unbearable, but that day, the goddesses gave us a slight breeze and a sky speckled with clouds. Yet, every time we wanted to take a picture of Nafplio or the blue water below that surrounded the citadel, the sky opened and the gave us a natural flash. My cousin drove us around that day, and the car ride provided much needed girl-time. Apart from the financial crisis, personal issues have presented her life with increased challenges. In our conversations, which are more like discourses about the human condition, suffering, and the desire to find peace, we never reach conclusions but philosophize, laugh, and sometimes cry. One who is gone, physically, is my dear Yiayia. The forty-day memorial is more important in Greek culture, but my family gathered again to make it special for me, so that I could say my formal goodbye. The last time I has seen Yiayia was the summer before. On that hot day in August, we all gathered at the cemetery, the kids ran around, and the adults greeted one another. I really would have enjoyed some at that moment because even though the family chatter lightened the mood, it felt like a buffalo had sat on my chest. My cousin lives there now, and my adorable niece and nephew were so excited to show me their new rooms that the ambience felt peaceful and happy. Yiayia was ready to go, so I was grateful that her death provided a home for a family in the time of need. But as as I walked through the cemetery, the feeling was different. My kooky, fun-loving, naughty Yiayia was no more. She would be lying under a slab of cement decomposing. After the prayer, the family left us for a few moments of private time, and I sobbed uncontrollably. Yiayia was ready, she was old, 94! She had led a full, good life. She had twenty people who stood there; many who shed tears again even though they had officially mourned her a year before, their sorrow still palpable. Then, I thought about my own death. When I die, my husband and a few pets will be present. I have never regretted not having children, and as I sat around a table with uncles and aunts, cousins and their children, I felt serene. Maybe a few nieces, family members, or friends will come. I lack nothing. My husband held my hand and asked me gently with his eyes how I was doing. We all learned this lesson from Yiayia who was a genuinely happy and mischievous person till the day she closed her eyes. On the way to our summer house, we took a detour to the sanctuary of Apollo at Delphi. According to tradition, Zeus sent two eagles from opposite sides of the universe to find each other at the center. They met at Delphi. Standing in the sanctuary with my husband felt electric. We walked around, took lots of pictures, but always stopped to admire with the naked eye. Visiting the theatre, stadium, and sanctuary, built in the 4 th , 5 th , and 7 th century B. While we walked down the path, with large looming trees and mountains on all the sides, I could hear the cicadas chirping. This seaside village, also one of the settings in my novel, Red Greek Tomatoes, provides a sanctuary for my protagonist. Unlike the main character of my novel who goes to Kamena Vourla as a stranger on her way to Delphi and knows no one, I know this village intimately. And escape from hectic Athens. While in Kamena Vourla, if one wants a break from taverns, Camino Restaurant offers sumptuous dinner and mouthwatering steaks. They are real. They enjoy life. Yes, they are stressed, tired, deal with mother-in-laws who live above them, but they laugh and bitch, then laugh again; no problem is too tough to handle. A few kilometers from Kamena Vourla, towards Agios Konstandinos, is Asproneri, a pebble-stone beach that rivals any island one with its clear water and mountain as a backdrop. Thair, my protagonist, falls in love while at this beach so Asproneri is personified in my novel. A girl may be 16 and long-legged or 60 with a pudgy belly, every female, despite age or size, wears a bikini. When I ordered our freddos at the shack, I debated dropping my sari on the walk back, allowing eyes to critique my ample thighs, but the thought only entered my mind long enough for me to push it out. No way. I tightened the knot of my wrap, held the coffees, one in each hand, and strolled back along the shoreline. No more dancing; it saddens me that this new generation just drinks and stands around for endless hours. It also bores me. A sure sign I am finally getting old. Skopelos is part of the Sporades islands and offers tranquility, unlike the neighboring island of Skiathos that has a wilder nightlife, but equally beautiful beaches. We met Italians, Spaniards, saw many blonde Europeans, and heard a few Americans. We stayed in Chora, the main town, at Hotel Dionyssos, a hotel with an excellent breakfast, nice pool, and helpful staff. I met the bartender who was my age, a beautiful brunette who was a French professor in her native Albania and moved to Greece twenty years before. She lives permanently on the island with her Albanian husband and two teenage boys. Everyone has a story. The Expedia photos looked inviting, and since the location was ideal, we decided to splurge. Our room, typically Greek: clean, small and simple, did have lovely views of the beach and mountains; mostly the details, little bottles of ouzo and loukoumades in our room to welcome us, added a nice touch. The first day we took an all-day, very inexpensive 12 euros , guided bus tour to the famous church, Agios Ioannis, from a scene in Mamma Mia that included stops at several beaches. The steps that we climbed to reach this chapel were well worth it because at the top the vast turquoise sea could be seen, and a feeling of romance, indeed, lingered in the air. I definitely felt old. The only dancing we would be doing was in our dreams. The greatest appeal of Skopelos are the beaches; from Limnonari to Panormos to Kastani, golden sand and clear water circle the island. I found that to be true. The last day in Athens is always spent returning to Thanasis for a kebab plate and to walk the streets of Plaka. But this year plans changed. We stumbled upon a restaurant that opened its evening terrace for us early, so we enjoyed a spectacular view of the Parthenon. We ate and drank wine for more than two hours and by the time we left, our secluded terrace was filled with more than fifteen tables, never noticing when the tables had been set or the guests arrived. It was a perfect ending to a perfect holiday. Almost perfect. Saying goodbye is always tough. It was a cool night for August, a slight breeze blew my bangs in my face. As I moved them to the side, I could see Nike in the distance smiling at me. I know she loves Greece as much as I do. NAFPLIO The next stop, about forty minutes from Epidavros, was a city that beheld a beauty of another sort; pink, yellow, and blue houses, a city center that reminded me of Venice, and not surprisingly since the Turks and the Venetians fought for this port city in the 13 th century. Subscribe Subscribed. Sign me up. Already have a WordPress. Log in now. Loading Comments Email Required Name Required Website. Design a site like this with WordPress.

Buying hash Kamena Vourla