Introduction to Pelion (Kind of a long one actually)
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Sitting by the pool with my
laptop on a slate table (like most of the
roofs of Pelion), is not my idea of a travel
adventure. But Amarandi insisted on a hotel
with a pool, and while she clings to the edge
and wipes the heavily chlorinated water from
her burning eyes, I can reflect upon the chain
of events which brought me to one of the most
beautiful areas in Greece, instead of the
Peloponessos, where I had planned on going.
The fact that we ended up in the village of Chorefto at the bottom of the heavily
wooded Mount Pelion is only because the Villa
Horizonte in the village of Zagora twenty
minutes straight up did not have a pool, yet.
We had come from the spa town of Edipsos,
where every hotel has a pool. Unfortunately
they contained steaming hot mineral water and
as refreshing as they appeared, they were of
little use for cooling off, though they claim
to cure just about every ailment known to man
and even a few others. Plus you needed a note
from a doctor that pronounced you physically
sound enough so that a dip in the mineral pool
would not kill you. Too much of a good thing I
guess. Anyway with the way I have been feeling
the last few days, and the abuse I have put my
body through, I doubted I could pass a
physical that even Andrea's 90 year old aunts
were able to breeze through. To top it all
off, kids were not allowed in the pool which
was very frustrating for Amarandi. As we were
given a tour of the mineral pool in the aunts
hotel by Spiro, a handsome young physical
therapist, Amarandi reached to touch the
inviting water. "Ochi-NO!" shouted Spiros and
pulled her hand out of the water in time to
save her from a fatal dose of whatever it is
in the pool that makes old people well and
kills little children. It must have been
terribly frustrating for Amarandi. I mean they
looked like swimming pools. They were even
painted that swimming pool blue. Yet it was
something disguised as a pool that was
dangerous and forbidden to her. From that
moment she wanted a swimming pool. Even the
clear blue seas of northern Evia where we
caught the ferry to Glyfa on the mainland
failed to sway her from her desire for a
pool.
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The Villa
Horizonte & Ross Daly
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I had hoped that the Villa
Horizonte would have a pool. The Villa is more
than a hotel. It's a cultural center built by
a woman named Ingrid, on the green, heavily
wooded mountainside, overlooking a vast
expanse of blue sea. When we arrived the
famous musician Ross Daly, a transplanted
Irishman who single-handedly reintroduced
traditional Cretan music not only to Greece,
but to many of the Cretans themselves. He has
just given a workshop and concert at the Villa
and was heading back to Athens with his
students, to close up his school and move the
operation back to Crete. I had met him a
couple times before, the last time in the
Airport in Athens where he was flying to
Istanbul to pick up an aoud, and I was on my
way back to the states. I asked if I could
take his photo because I was a big fan. Then I
sent the photo by e-mail to Ingrid who gave it
to Ross who now remembered me as the guy who
took the picture in the airport. We sat and
talked about music and the internet and his
coming to terms with the reality that the best
way to promote traditional music is through
sound files like MP3 and make them available
to everybody. So the next time we meet he will
remember me as the guy who was going to do a
website for him but never did. As it turns out Ross got himself a website which is way better than what I could have made for him. See Ross Daly's Website
But Ross Daly or not, a hotel in the mountains
without a pool had no appeal for Amarandi.
Ingrid remembered that she had seen a hotel
with a high wall that might have contained a
pool.
After touring her beautiful
hotel, that had everything but a pool, we said
good-bye and followed the winding road down
the mountain from Zagora to Chorefto on the
sea. Sure enough the Aiolos Hotel has a pool
and at sunset they play classical music that
seems to make my fingers type faster. The
hotel is a collection of separate bungalows
surrounded by grass, trees, roses, stone walls
and plenty of kids. So Amarandi has her pool
and a pool of potential friends. Andrea has
the sea a few feet away, and I have a phone
connection that is detachable and will enable
me to write and send e-mail, providing my
computer recognizes the dial tone. Life is
good. The Villa Horizonte is gone now but there are other nice places to stay on the Pelion Hotels Page.
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The Story: Lost in Athens
How we got to this part of
Greece rather then a couple hundred miles
south in the Peloponessos is another story. It
had to do with Andrea's mother who arrived on
Thursday and was planning to go to Edipsos, a
town famous for its hot mineral springs.
Perhaps I am understating what Edipsos is. I
will put it another way because most people
have never heard of Edipsos unless they live
in Greece. Every person in Greece over the age
of 60 knows Edipsos. They go to their doctor
for whatever is wrong with them and he will
prescribe a visit to Edipsos to take so-many
baths. Andrea's aunts go every summer for
three weeks or as they put it twenty-one
baths. Andrea's mother always includes a visit
to Edipsos on her infrequent visits to Greece
because her life in the USA makes her a
nervous wreck and her doctor has told her she
has the most twisted degenerated spine he has
ever seen and it is a miracle she can even
walk, let alone shop. It's no secret that
Elaine and I don't get along and so as a
gesture of good will I volunteered to take her
and her mangled spine to Edipsos, rather the
having her sit in the bus for four
hours.
When she found out I had
agreed to take her she almost kissed me in
happiness, though after two hours of
wandering around the refugee
settlement-like suburbs of Athens searching for the National Road she probably
wished I hadn't been such a good son-in-law.
The guy from
Swift Car Rentals
who delivered the car to
the hotel made it sound so easy. Drive to
Omonia and turn on to 21st of September street
and then turn on to Archanon until we come to
the National road. Swift offers to drive their
customers to the main road and avoid the chaos
of Athens but I felt this would not be
necessary. After all I was a seasoned veteran
of the Greek road system, having spent months
on the island of Lesvos where the drivers were
said to be the worst in the country. But from
the start things went wrong. We could not make
the left hand turn to go to Omonia because
there was a median across the road and then
there were no places to make a U-turn. We
drove all the way to Thission when we decided
to improvise our way to Archanon and the
National road, and we were doing quite well
until Andrea realized that Archanon was
running parallel to the national road and if
they laws of geometry were to hold up, would
never connect with it. She told me to turn
left and get onto Lliosa road which would lead
us right into the National road, in a more
perfect world. Instead it led us to Ano
Lliossa, and endless barrios of 4 story
apartment buildings, unpaved streets and
inhabitants who might find it easier to direct
us to downtown Sebastapol then the national
road of Greece. Every once in awhile we would
see a sign that pointed to it and we would
follow it, only to find ourselves in the
loading area of some factory, or a dead end
road surrounded by garbage strewn lots and
dilapidated apartment buildings. Every time we
asked someone directions we got the same
answer. "Go straight past 2 lights. Take your
third right and then ask directions again." It
was as if we were just getting directions to
other people who would give us directions and
nobody actually knew where the national road
was, only where the next guy was who might
know. Kind of like trying to get a resident
permit or a drivers license in Athens, being
sent from office to office in an attempt to
just get rid of you and let some other useless
bureaucrat deal with your problem . I
was ready to give up and go to an island. We
had barely started the trip and I felt like I
had been driving for hours (actually I had).
Everyone was trying to remain cheerful but the
tension was building with every dead end and
near accident. We would see a sign for the
national road and feel like we were finally on
our way, and then find ourselves hopelessly
lost in some neighborhood or industrial park,
or a combination of the two. True, it was a
side of Greece that few tourists ever see,
(and those that do were probably searching for
the National Road as well), but it was hard to
appreciate the hordes of Romanian refugees
trudging back from the market, when you have a
dump truck filled with slag and broken
concrete, beeping madly behind you because you
are driving slow enough to look for clues as
to the whereabouts of the National Road. The
most interesting aspect of our lost journey
through the seamy underside of Athens was that
we were veterans of Greece. What would someone
who was visiting Greece for the first time
feel when they suddenly found themselves in
third world surroundings with no hope of
escape?
Finally we located it. But
even that was an adventure. No warning. Just a
sign that said 'Lamia' that you don't even see
until you are past it. I nearly started a ten
car pileup by slamming on the brakes in an
attempt to make the turn, but the 180 degree
skid I went into sent me off in the wrong
direction and once I regained control of the
car I had to make a few U-turns to get back to
the spot I had missed. This time, even though
I knew where it was I nearly missed it again.
Driving in Greece is like one of those
computer games like Doom, where you have to
get killed by the demons half a dozen times
before you know what the hell you are
doing.
The national road made me
long for the labyrinth of Ano lliossa. It was
a 4 lane highway with no median and no lanes
either. There was something on the right that
looked like a bicycle lane that the slow cars
would pull into when a fast car came barreling
down on them, which gave enough room to pass,
unless someone coming in the other direction
was passing as well. Then it became a game of
reflexes and will, much like the game of
chicken. It took some getting used to but once
I found my pace and learned how to avoid
head-on collisions I felt somewhat confidant
that I could make it to the Halkida bridge in
Evia where we could take the mountain road to
Edipsos instead of Greece's twisted
interpretation of a superhighway.
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Evia
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The bridge across the
channel of water which separates the island of
Evia from the mainland is impressive. It looks
like a large stringed instrument that's
impossible to play. Halkida itself looks like
an appendage of the giant cement factory
across the bay. Many of the apartments look
like they were built the same day, as if a
sudden influx of refugees made the Greek
government reach for the easiest solution,
which was to build giant concrete blocks of
apartments right next to a cement factory. It
was in Halkida that I had my first near
accident. When I found myself stuck behind a
stopped city bus and made my move to pass, a
car several cars behind decided the cars in
front were not moving fast enough to get
around the bus. Just as he was making his move
I made mine, only he had no bothered to even
stop and had foreword momentum going his way.
All I heard was the screech of brakes behind
me, but rather then wait for him to hit me, I
floored the little Honda and got my ass out of
trouble, leaving a group of swearing Greek
drivers behind me.
We opted not to stop in the
city of Halikida. It was a city whose charm
increased with the more ouzo you drank, but to
truly appreciate it might require a near fatal
dose. The juxtaposition of the beautiful blue
Greek sea that has been seen in so many
pictures and postcards, with this
unattractive, industrial city was fascinating
in a way. I always associate this color of the
sea with prime real-estate: a small white
church, a fine sand beach with a little
cafeneon, or a tiny scenic port like Naossa.
The fact that a giant cement factory, a
junkyard or a graveyard for telephone cable
spools could share this same color sea seems
like sacrilege. But Greece is not a fairy
tale. It is a country that exists beyond
tourism and the most industrialized in the
Balkans. There are factories and there is
garbage, and in some places they stand side by
side with that beautiful sea.
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The road that goes north
through Evia is small and winding and passes
through pine forests and small towns. We
stopped at a small taverna on the roadside
that specialized in two different types of
cheese pastries, or tyganopsomo. One was a
baked cake filled with feta and onions and the
other was a deep fried filo dough filled with
feta. With a Greek salad and sadziki we were
quite full and then the main course of
paidiakia arrived, the only thing Amarandi
would eat. By the time we got back into the
car we were ready for a nap, not another two
hours of driving. Amarandi and I attempted to
explore the area around the small taverna but
it seemed everywhere we went, we discovered
Yaya sneaking a cigarette and after awhile it
became frustrating to know that before we
could discover anything, Yaya would have found
it first to use as a hiding place.
As we drove north the road
shared the heavily wooded valley with a small
river. When we found a spot to pull over we
found ourselves in the middle of a big wedding
party at another roadside taverna, with men
dancing the zembekiko in a gazebo, lined with
giant speakers that boomed the music through
the valley and into the forest, where we waded
in the freezing cold water. There were dozens
of children running around with their mothers
following close behind, while their fathers
sat drinking in the taverna. Crossing the
river was a rope suspension bridge that would
sway when you crossed, especially when the
little boys on the far side began tugging on
the ropes trying to increase the momentum and
terrify those on the bridge.
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Edipsos
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I did not really know what
to expect with Edipsos. I knew all the old
people went there so I was imagining decrepit
aging hotels with dirty stained stone pools
filled with tepid water and geriatric bodily
excretions. But I was wrong. Edipsos was a
beautiful little town, almost a small city
with a tree shaded waterfront lined with cafes
and restaurants. The hotels had lovely baths
that looked like swimming pools. There were
places in the sea where the hot spring water
poured in or shot up from the sea bed, and
people bathed in the warm currents. We had not
really made a decision of whether or not we
would stay or drive on to Volos and Pelion,
but once I saw the town, I wanted to stay. We
got a room at the Poseidon where Andrea's mom
was staying and I went for a walk to check out
the village. Many of the hotels had their own
small baths in the basement and the larger
hotels had the pools. There was an enormous
old hotel that had been renovated and rebuilt
into a giant European health spa with a giant
pool and every type of therapy you could list,
provided by professional healers and physical
therapists.
But if you want to know
about Edipsos then you can visit my Edipsos
page. This is a story about Pelion and if I
tell all the cool things about my visit to
Edipsos here then there will be no room for
the wonders of Mount Pelion. |
Volos: Mezedes
Capital of Greece
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I was informed by my Greek
Travel Gurus, Paul Hellander and David Willett
of Lonely Planet, that the mezedes of Volos
were better than Lesvos. How can this be? It's
like someone saying to an American that
cricket is better than baseball. Nothing is
better than baseball. And for them to suggest
that the snacks served with ouzo in Volos were
better than those served in Lesvos filled me
with doubts about my mentors. Not only that
but in Volos they don't drink ouzo. They drink
tsipuro which is the drink of choice in
northern Greece, closer in taste to the raki
they drink in Crete. The whole thing was
beginning to sound like some kind of trick
being played on me by my pals at Lonely
Planet, no doubt so they could have a laugh at
my expense during one of the frequent Lonely
Planet cocktail parties where they routinely
diss on all the other travel writers.
("Remember the time we sent Matt Barrett to
Volos looking for tsipuro and mezedes?
Hahahahahah! He was never heard from
again!")
But despite my doubts and
fears I knew I had to investigate. Maybe they
weren't trying to divert me from something
much more interesting happening in Mykonos or
the Pink Palace of Corfu. Maybe it was true
that the mezedes of Volos were better than
those in Lesvos. Maybe the only reason I
thought the mezedes in Lesvos were the best
was because everyone in Lesvos said they were,
the way everyone in Greece says Athens is
better than New York or Nick Gallis is better
than Michael Jordon. So to Volos we went from
the small ferry port of Agiokambo in northern
Evia, to the port of Glifa on the mainland
south of Volos. After a few hair-raising
moments on the dreaded National Road we found
ourselves on the waterfront of a good sized
city.
According to my Lonely
Planet buddies, the reason Volos has such a
strong mezedes tradition is because when the
Greeks were forcibly evicted from Asia Minor
in 1922, many of the seamen came to Volos to
live. They would gather in the harbor and eat
mezedes and drink tsipuro. As time went on the
demand for better and more exotic mezedes
increased and became like a competition. The
establishments with the best mezedes attracted
the most customers and prospered in a sort of
Darwinian display of restaurant
survival.
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It was not hard to find a
place where we could test the mezedes of
Volos. Right on the waterfront there were a
couple restaurants, filled with people at 2pm,
each table loaded with small plates of various
snacks and the tiny bottles they serve the
tsipuro in. Paul and David were right. Every
kind of fish and sea creature was available
cooked in so many styles I realized that the
only way to really do my job would be to rent
a room upstairs and come down to eat and drink
every couple hours. The tsipuro was served ice
cold like the vodka in my cousins monastery in
NYC and went down easy. Easier than ouzo. I
was becoming converted. I thought about
skipping Lesvos completely and spending my
summer in this hot city, happily typing away
in my air-conditioned hotel room waiting for a
reasonable hour to sample some more mezedes
and tsipuro. What did we try that was good?
Well the fried pikilia of giant shrimp,
mussels and whatever else they could find was
great, but that is not a good measurement.
Anything tastes good deep fried in olive oil
and seasoned right. I could eat deep-fried
spam-balls and they would taste just as good
as scallops with a little lemon. I liked the
mussels cooked in red sauce with cheese,
otherwise known as media sagonaki and the
shrimp cooked the same way, called garithes
sagoniki. Octopus grilled or in wine sauce is
fantastic. Tiro kafteri is a spicy cheese
spread that goes on bread. That was delicious
too. Grilled sardines were not as good as the
Kaloni sardines of Lesvos. Well maybe they
were. Who can really tell? But I have a lot
more friends in Lesvos than I do in Volos and
I want to keep it that way.
So were the mezedes of
Volos better than those of Lesvos? It doesn't
matter. They are both so good that while you
are in the act of eating one or the other and
drinking ouzo or tsipuro, the thought that
there may be something better out there is the
furthest thing from your mind. And in fact
getting in the Honda and driving up the road
to the villages of Pelion, clearly visible
from Volos, was the second furthest thing from
my mind. But I still had to do it.
If you plan to stay in Volos see the Volos Hotels Page
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Pelion (Finally)
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So we drove through Volos
and found the road to Pelion. It was not hard
to find. It's a straight road that leads
directly to the giant mountain that fills the
entire world visible from the car's
windshield. Once you leave the plain the road
is no longer straight. It curves and winds and
getting anywhere means climbing up and down
and back and forth, slowing down for curves
and praying that any driver coming from the
other direction is doing the same in his own
lane. Driving in Pelion is stressful. Good
brakes are a necessity, not a luxury and a
quick horn may save your life. Luckily the
narrowness of the roads and the bends make it
unlikely that either car will be going fast
enough so the impact will kill you. But the
thousand foot drop off the edge may.
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It would be hard to imagine
an area more densely wooded than the Pelion
Peninsula. It was like being in the
Adirondacks without billboards and
7-elevens. Instead of strip malls and
lines of service stations and fast food
restaurants announcing your entrance into each
village, they seemed to appear around us like
magic, their roofs and walls made of stone and
wood, blending with the natural surroundings.
There were miles of apple trees and places
where waterfalls poured from the sky onto the
shoulder of the road on it's journey down to
the sea, which looked like it was miles below
us.
The town of Zagora was
strung out along the main road and seemed to
lack a center, which was the only reason we
did not stay there. Well not the only reason.
There were obviously not going to be any
swimming pools in this town and as beautiful
as it was we continued down the road to the
sea where we had seen a sign for the Villa
Horizonte which is where this story
began.
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Chorefto
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After our discovery that Villa Horizonte was not only lacking a pool, but was also on the side of a mountain, we drove to the nearest beach which was Chorefto and walked into the first hotel we saw that looked like it might have a pool, which was the Aeolis Hotel, where it took about 3 seconds to realize that this is where we wanted to stay. It was my favorite thing about Chorefto.
Not that I didn't like the town. It was fine. I just really liked the hotel and I would have been happy to hang out here and work on my website, even if I had to make stuff up, just to keep from leaving the hotel.
Chorefto is an incredible
beach and the town feels like you are sitting
on the edge of the world. There are a dozen
restaurants and hotels. Surprisingly this area
is very tourist oriented. Signs are all in
English and the restaurants had specials that
mixed local specialties with the stuff they
know the tourists will like...mousaka,
souvlakia and the rest. The restaurant we ate
at was good as I am sure they all are and if I
were a tourist I would have been quite
content. But what I wanted was something more
like what we had experienced in Volos, maybe
mixed with a little of the
Lesvos-old-man-cafeneon vibe. I didn't want
the waiter to speak to me in English. I didn't
want to know what everything on the menu was.
I wanted to experience new sensations to go
with the tsipuro which was served in those
little bottles here as well. So we ate. We
drank. We made friends with the local dogs who
gathered around our table and waited for
scraps and then we went home and went to
sleep.
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The next morning it was up
to me to decide to stay or go. I didn't care
one way or the other but figured we could
leave and if we did not find anything better
we could always come back to the Aeolis Hotel. Easier said than
done. The narrow roads with their hairpin
turns made me want to find one place and
settle there for a few days. It seemed like
every few minutes we were involved in a near
collision and I was sure that few of them were
my fault. I checked out the next batch of
beaches at Agios Ioannis which looked fine but
again a little touristy. Maybe not for me. I
mean I can be happy anywhere. Put me in
Mykonos and I will find the last little place
where the old men still gather to talk about
the old days and drink home made ouzo from a
barrel. But Andrea likes tradition. She thinks
that when you come to Greece you should see
only Greeks and hear only Greek and have to
read from a menu written only in Greek.
Clearly we would not find this here in Agia
Ioannis or in the next beach down the coast.
There was nothing to do but head upward, into
the mountains where it was cooler and maybe
less touristy.
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Tsangarada
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The village of Tsangarada
was rumored to have the largest platanos tree
in Greece so we made that our goal. Surely
there would be cafeneons full of happy old men
drinking tsipuro, eating delicious mezedes and
talking about their marvelous platanos tree,
arguing about the size of others they had seen
in their travels. We would join them and tell
them about the tree in the village of Liotta
in Lesvos, or the tree in Xidera that is
hollow and used for storage, or the tree in
Karini near Agiassos where the great artist
Theophilos lived while he painted the
surrounding cafes. But when we got to
Tsangarada there was no cafeneon full of old
men that we could find and even if we had, we
would have lost the argument because the tree
in the platia was the biggest tree that I had
ever seen in my life. We did sit in the platia
under this giant tree and have a wonderful
meal and then we expored the area around the
platia and found an amazing fountain
underneath. But as usual we got antsy and
decided that being relaxed and happy was not
really that fulfilling and got back on the
road and began driving south along the coast,
several thousand feet below.
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Vyzitsa
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Somewhere along the way we
decided we wanted to visit the traditional
village of Vyzitsa where Andrea's sister had a
friend who had bought an old mansion and
converted it into a bed and breakfast. The
village was up on the side of the mountain but
on the west side of the Pelion Peninsula
facing the Pagasitic bay south of Volos.
Vyzitsa was spectacular with beautiful old
houses made of wood and stone, some of them
converted into hotels and B&B's. The sound
of water was everywhere as streams rushed
through the village and there was a gorgeous
platia that looked like it was ready for a
great party to begin. The place was heavenly
and the climate perfect and if we had been
smart we would have stayed there. But nobody
answered us when we knocked on the door of the
hotel and since it seemed like the party would
not be starting for awhile we decided to drive
on thinking we would return later.
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Kalanera
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But we didn't. We wanted to
go for a swim and drove down the mountain to
the seaside village of Kalanera which looked
like fun when we arrived. There was a long
beach road with one restaurant after another
and an amusement park with bumper cars.
It seemed like a pretty lively resort for
Bulgarians and Serbian tourists. We had a
little swim in the calm water, which was
nowhere near as nice as the sea on the Aegean
side of Pelion, and then looked for a decent
hotel which we found too easily. I met an old
man from Lamia who had been coming to Kalanera
all his life. His wife had died recently and
we befriended him and drank tsipuro and ate
mezedes at a couple places. He excused himself
after awhile and Andrea and I took Amarandi to
the amusement park which she loved until we
had to leave and then she cried so much we
wished we had not taken her there in the first
place. We ate dinner at our hotel's restaurant
which was lousy and then went to bed in our
room which was hot as hell and infested with
mosquitoes that kept us awake all night and
made us leave Pelion first thing in the
morning.
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Epilogue
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OK. So I didn't have much
fun in Pelion. A six year old demanding a
swimming pool, a wife who doesn't like
tourists and my desire to see as much as I
could in as short a time as possible are the
ingredients for a heart attack, not for a fun
holiday. But that does not mean you won't have
the time of your life. I just made a couple
bad moves and did not have a working plan. We
were reading Lonely Planet as we went along
but only when we reached a town would we begin
to research it and by the time we knew what
there was to see it was disappearing in our
rear-view mirror. And on those roads there was
no way I was going to risk turning around for
anything smaller than the worlds largest tree.
But if I was going to do it again I would stay
at my friend
Kostis
House
and take day trips around
Pelion or I would stay in Vyzitsa and do the
same. (If I did not go back to the Aiolis
Hotel that is) A car is essential unless you are
parking yourself at one of the beautiful
beaches on the Aegean side where the wind
blows the mosquitoes away and the sea is the
color of blue that you dream about. Its true
that Pelion is one of the most beautiful areas
in Greece and it is a place you can visit
during any season, particularly in the winter
when you can ski. For people who are active
and like to do more than sit around the beach
all day and drink all night, it is an area
rich in natural activities. If you want a
special holiday don't so as I did, do as I
say. Take a trip to Pelion and take the time
to get to know one of the most beautiful areas
of Greece. If you really want to do it right,
rather than wander around blindly, book your
trip with someone who knows what they are
doing.
If you are
planning to rent a car and drive from Athens
to Pelion check out
Swift
Rent-a-Car
. They will pick
you up at the airport or your hotel and drive
you to the National road and let you by-pass
the notorious Athens traffic.
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You can find hotels in Pelion by location, price, whether or not it has a swimming pool, and see photos and reviews by using this link to booking.com. Excellent prices and many hotels you can book and then cancel
with no cancellation fee. For those who want to book without using a travel agency this is the best way to do it. You can also use my Hotels of Greece Pelion Page
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