Day 4
Coasting
It was time to hit the Corinthian coast. As is the way, it is rare for us to travel from A to B directly, usually stopping off at X, Y or Z along the way. Today we stopped off at Desfina before getting to the coast. The Greek villages that we had visited were all nice, but were nowhere near as romantic/beautiful/wonderous/pick your superlative, as equivalent villages in most other European countries we have visited. The piazzas in Italy, place-s in France, plazas in Spain or platzes in Germany or Austria are for more evocative and lively than the somewhat drab and lifeless squares in Greece, at least at 10 a.m. I imagine that they liven up a bit once the sun goes down, but they still don’t have anywhere near the charm of what we have seen elsewhere. Sometimes the differences between countries are intangible. It’s a matter of ambience, or feel, less inspiring architecture or attention to detail. Where the Italians are passionate, the Greeks are laid back. Greece just feels less developed than other European countries, but I mean that in a good way. This is in not a negative reflection on Greece; we loved it, will come back again and again and I recommend it as a great place to visit. But the differences between Greece and other European countries is striking. That doesn’t make for an any less enjoyable trip, it’s just an observation.
In any case, here we were in Disfina, with a very majestic looking church on top of the hill that the village is built in to. We parked the car by the village’s main square and huffed and puffed our way up through the streets until we reached the church on top of the hill. The views were outstanding, but the large church was closed, on a Sunday, which seemed strange, as it was merely closed, yet didn’t appear abandoned. We descended to the main square where we’d parked our car and found an open café, with four octogenarians sitting out the front. We figured that they’d been sitting there since the collapse of the military junta in 1974. Garry quickly abandoned his companions and joined the old fellas. Besides his red hair, he fitted right in. After a round of Greek coffee and diet cokes we were off, with Garry begrudgingly leaving his new friends.
Our next stop was meant to be the port town of Itea, but when you pass a town with the quasi Jewish name of Kippa, you just have to stop to take a look. In all my years of travelling, I’m not sure that I have ever seen a blander town than this. I’ve seen towns more rundown, more impoverished but I can’t remember a place that has absolutely nothing of interest. We parked in what appears to be the main street as it had a few shops and was a bit wider than the other streets, and walked two blocks down to the boardwalk that runs along the crystal blue waters of the Gulf of Corinth, glistening in the sun. With such a beautiful backdrop, we might expect a boardwalk that is interesting, or the town elders had invested some thought in. Nothing. Nada. The concrete slabs we were walking on were neither in total disrepair, nor particularly well maintained. The houses or apartments fronting the sea were just, well, grey and plain. After twenty minutes of trying to find something of interest other than the beautiful sea we decide to head back to the car via a different route, down the “main” street. Not surprisingly, the closed chops were no more interesting.
The town of Itea proved to be exactly what Kippa wasn’t. A lively coastal town that exists for locals who enjoy the good life. It’s not Saint Tropez on the French Riviera, nor is it Positano on the Amalfi. And I’ll take lovely Itea over these two far more famous beach resorts, full of international tourists, every time. An interesting boardwalk lined with restaurants and bars, fishing boats docked and selling the day’s catch directly from the stern, families sitting at outdoor cafes where the adults drank coffee and the kids run around. This is how you take advantage of the sparkling Gulf of Corinth and the pleasant early spring weather. I’m pretty sure you can guess what comes next after we’d already had our first coffee break for the day at Desfina. Alcohol,- namely Ouzo, Aperol, Campari and Hot Chocolates for the teetotalers.
Next stop Galaxidi, the jewel of the peninsula. It was the only place where we heard other English speaking tourists, along a road opposite the port lined with numerous restaurants. With cobbled stoned streets, attractive squares, colorfully painted houses and views over the water to the distant snow covered Mt Parnassos, this was the town that Greece puts on its glossy brochures to attract foreigners.
With so many restaurants along the promenade fronting the port, this was the obvious place to eat lunch. Unfortunately, after all the great food we’d had so far, we were bound at some point to have a disappointment. The Skeletovrachos Fish Tavern had been recommended by a few people, including the ever reliable Eleni, and it looked very nice. And to be fair, if this was the first place we’d eaten at in Greece, we would have been happy. The food wasn’t bad. It was just not as good as the other places we had eaten at and was much, much more expensive…like double the price we’d payed at other places. No doubt, I’ve had worse, just not here in Greece. Oh well. It was still a lovely day.
By the time we arrived back to the hotel in Arachova, we had time for some rest, a low key souvlaki for dinner and a relaxing final night of this short trip.