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As you may have read yesterday, our planned perusal of the ancient fort of Mystras had sadly been scuppered by the sudden onslaught of rain befitting the apocalypse. To combat the disappointment we drove 8 miles down the road hoping to find a phantom museum that – as it turned out – Craig knew neither the name or location of. Surely not an insurmountable problem, no?
We left behind the grime and graffiti of Athens and began driving in the direction of Corinth and the sunny Peloponnese. I hadn’t any preconceptions of the Greek countryside, nor had I any firm grasp of our specific intent once we got there. What I uncovered was a landscape overwhelmed by peaks, provincial towns and glorious rolling farmland, each as picturesque as the last.
Athens groans and creeks like a rusting vintage car. It’s treasured and priceless sure, but far from pretty. Exhaust fumes pour and imperfections abound. Of course, the story of the Greek Capital far pre-dates any 1920′s Bentley. And it was this – the history – that we came eager to focus on. Contemporary Athens is sadly too overrun with pollution and social problems.
