Greece has never strayed far from the front pages of newspapers in the last few years due to its economic troubles. Somehow, we have overlooked how important Greece is to the world. Look at what they have given the world: democracy, philosophy, the classical arts, theatre and Maria Callas.
Ignoring the stunning islands which are set like diamonds on a sapphire blue felt, we see Greece as it has always been: rich with fertile soil and the biggest oranges ever seen on trees. The Euro zone has not benefited the Southern countries. Export quotas prevent farmers from selling their produce, leading to tons of fruits and vegetables just being left to rot. In a time when the west is preaching the need to help the poor, this is just criminal. It doesn’t help the farmers either as their income is effectively curtailed.
The country produces arguably the best olive oil in the world. This is evidenced by the many Greeks who live past their centenary and celebrated in various TV ads. Most families own or have access to their own olive groves and they often make their own wine.
My good friend, Matina, and I visited her native Peloponnese – home to Sparta, immortalised in film through the mythic soldiers who battled at Thermopylae (which is not in Sparta). Along the way, we met many of her friends and partook in the wonderful sights of this ancient land.
Our first stop out of Athens was near Corinth, another ancient capital and famed for being where St Paul taught on his travels. It was only a motorway pit stop but even there the coffee and food was sumptuous. Anyone who has ever had to suffer woeful English motorway stops of greasy burgers and Nescafé knock offs would find this a nirvana. Oh, and we got a free cheese pastry with our Greek coffee.
We headed east toward the city of Tripoli (yes, the one in Libya was named for this). Upon arrival, we took a left and headed southward to the village of Vlaccokerasia. Kerasia is Greek for “cherries” and trees were abloom with white and pink flowers everywhere. We met up with Konstantina, a local who helps to look after Matina’s farm.
She drove us up to the huge hotel which her family had built from scratch. On the top of a hill overlooking a verdant forest, the hotel is immaculately conceived. We spent some time looking around and sharing ideas on how to utilise the spaces properly before heading back to Konstantina’s farm house in the village. We met her mother and her two delightful children, Varoula and Panos.
“Wild greens” consisting of a range of mountain herbs were collected, sorted and then cooked. Eggs, taken straight from the coop, were beaten, seasoned and made into an omelet with feta. Potatoes, freshly dug from the back garden were peeled, roughly chopped and fried in olive oil tapped from the big barrel in the shed. Dessert was charmingly called “spoon sweets” (bergamot stewed in a sugar syrup).
Her son shared with us a video of himself leading the village children in a traditional Greek dance, dressed in customary regalia.
Konstantina told us her grandfather was an important figure of the Greek war of independence from the Turks. Nowhere else did the Greeks fight against their oppressors as hard as they did in Sparta. Photos, recordings and newspaper articles attest to the fame of her grandfather. While a source of pride, they didn’t boast about this. These people were amazing. They survived on everything they had around them. They kept their culture alive. There was no pretence, no airs.
After this hearty meal (at 4pm!), we had to say goodbye to this wonderful family. Our next stop would be Sparta.