The Bulgarian portcity of Varna boasts with its Greek past being once the city of Odessos. But also the contemporary Ukrainian city Odessa (more north) is located around an old Greek colony. Throughout this year Odessa has been attacked by Russian troops.
Ancient Greek cities laid sprinkled across the Black Sea and the Mediterranean's most fertile lands. Fuzzing and fighting was also their forte, check for example the conflictmap above. Despite their quarrels they dreamt of going to the same holy places. Like the Arabic world today has Mecca, the Greek had
- Olympia (known from the Olympic Games which were one of four recurring Pan-Hellenic games),
- Dodona (the old oracle), Delphi (the oracle)
- and the island of Delos (worship of Apollo).
Meanwhile today we Latin-cultured folks come from all directions to the internationally renowned climbing sanctuaries of Leonidio, Kyparissi, Manikia, Meteora, Kalymnos (Kalympics!) and Datça! (Find them above, indicated in red letters.) The most famous is the island of Kalymnos (see red pin) which mixes gentle and hard climbing. The Dodecanese island is a siren song for British retirees, Scandinavians, Berner Oberlanders, Americans, Australians, Piemontesi,... And me.
The Aegean Sea usually hosts predictable weather from may to october. By the time it's november, the Grecian islands are abandoned by tourists, so flights to the islands of Kos and Kalymnos are relatively limited and most climbing crowds are gone.
I finish my job friday evening. I stride through the big many-lighted monster called Athens. While I continue the major Athina Street it dawns on me that this city may be my phantasy of Berlin in the 1970's. In this waking circus youngsters shoot by from all sides while I speed up to get my train.
The rail takes me a long way out to the airport from where I fly to the island of Kos. After landing on the small airport, I catch a ride of 7km to the portcity of Mastichari. I've seen sand dunes and beyond the houses I hear waves quietly land. Θάλαττα! θάλαττα! (The Sea! The Sea!) I am joined and a kukeluku wakes us up very early the next morning, even before the first light shines a light on where we are, somewhere before 6h30am.
We walk to where the sea must be. Soon the waves will carry us to that silhouette beyond the blue horizon, the island of Kalymnos where the last two members of our team are exploring already. Winds on the boat sweep violently, but once we near land they temper and welcome us in the portcity of Pothia.
Once in the harbor of the legendary island, we fix scooters and throttle up, upstream the Pothia valley, over a ridge, to suddenly arrive to the larger hidden Kalymnos. Our journey enters the linear village that consists of the coastal villages Melitsahas, Myrties and Masouri, and then there will be the grant open, with steep limestone rocks high up on inland hills.
But first we've got to make it through that town of Myrties-Masouri. The seagulls, busy streets, quays and growling boat engines are a distant memory. Old pines side the mainstreet. Sometimes they're all tortuous, sometimes they're straight. We speed underneath Bougainvillea's magenta flowers and all plants seem to be in climbing mode already, running rampant over houses, fences and signposts. White and loulaki blue walls flash by. We catch glimpses of the sea, way beneath and beyond. The main road shakes its hips and swirls up and down, staying close to the coast below.
BRooM-GRooOM-GZCHRooOOM! Crescendo grumbles follow each other, each time fiercer. Revving up the steep street, two scooters then slow down and bring back the peace. Both hastily look left and right onto the main road. The grumbling bursts up again, ever louder, but quickly the unsuspecting duo aborts their short adventure on the boulevard, running into two law enforcement officers. Here, traffic laws are something the police make up when they see a tourist.
The two unfortunate riders are on a one-way street, which the duo will probably only discover a costly fine and 1,5 kilometer later when they uncover the one discolored traffic sign from behind a curtain of ivy. When asked about Kali, Thieb said he'd felt like a wallet on a scooter. I get it. Touristic shops, little hotels, restaurants and climbing shops alternate. Quite some people we cross demand things to be easy and accessible here.
We leave all the hassle behind and scooter onwards over the winding asphalt, with the wind sweeping, one rocky range after the other appearing and passing, and then the bay of Arginonta looking so far, yet taking up much of the view. Sometimes we pass climbers and crags and mostly we see the long northern and ruggy arm of the island stretch out as far as we can gaze. So much space. No way we will make it back in our house before the dark.
Some old people wave hello. I nod so I don't accidentally put my palm outwards to someone, because that's a straight-out insult here. Later a big-eyebrowed unshaven mean-looking guy - looking like a bulky closet - stands high on top of a lookout cliff on a miniparking in a bend of our road. He scans the sea air beneath with a massive rifle gun, looking like he'll blow any sign of life to smithereens. Maybe this specimen deserves an insult.. or better not.
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