The pilgrimage church of St Nicholas is noteworthy for both early Byzantine architecture and the atmosphere which is definitely eastern with visitors touching the cult objects which are sacred to both the western and eastern church.
The day slipped past very pleasantly and suddenly it was time to board my ferry to Patras via Igoumenitsa (mainland opposite cOrfu). From my visit to the archaeological museum I had a new found insight into the close proximity of the heel (or as the Austrian cyclistcyclist I met on the ferry suggested the spur on the heel) of ITaly to the Albanian coast referred to in the museum as the 'Taranto Canal' linking the Adriatic with the Ionian. So I was pleased we sailed before the light had gone to enjoy this lake like opening leg with land unexpectedly visible all round. It's a longtime since I last travelled deck class and after a couple of late night chats with Greek lorry drivers who patiently listened to my fumbling Greek and shared dreams of taking their Syndaxi (pension) and retreating to their village because despite or perhaps because of their trans continental travels we agreed there was no better place to retreat to.in the third age than a Greek coastal village.
I awoke to island studded Ionian vistas and used the entry to the gulf of Corinth for some visual recon of the North West corner of the Peloponnese where I hoped Alex and I might camp that evening.
Demarcation was straightforward - something rather intoxicating about riding out in a long line of lorries and being waved through out of the ferry terminal. Alex my brother-in-law was on the quay waiting and I knew we were going to have a great ride across the Pelopponese together.
Having lost a morning through the strike we were kean to get going so off we set suddenly two not one heading along the coast towards the North Western Cape of the Pelopponese. The first impression of riding Greek roads were how surprisingly good the surface generally was and what traffic there was (which came in short clumps behind a lorry generally) was generally slower than in Italy. So we made good progress to put first drinks stop (overpriced coke in trendy bar with glam barmaid and pulsing space electronica music - But not a bad view!
Pushing on round the corner we hit flat agricultural land covered in polytunnels with gangs of South Indian workers .... The pattern of migrant labour doing the agricultural work is thereby maintained right across the eurozone to include its poorest member Greece! The paradox of populist resentment at these hard working migrants 'taking our job's ' was not lost on us. We had a short debate about the conditions these migrants endure - an opportunity to send home earnings to poor South Indian families maybe but also a degree of debt bondage entrapping the workers with minimal rights certainly. It would seem migrant labour satisfies no-one except the consumers like us all enjoying cheap imported food in our supermarkets. For the record the local crops were water melon and strawberries. The degree of agricultural specialisation across the eurozone has also been an eyeopener - the consequent loss of diversity making us ever more prone to pest invasions!
When we lost our way as we attempted to push through the fields towards the coast we were directed by an articulate young S Indian in good English who ran after us to correct our navigation. Once again I mused on the seemingly endless human potential underused in our global system. I had been struck.in Italy at just how effectively the Italians, with their love of machines, had mechanized almost every task. Given that whatever the future holds we will be feeding around 11 billion by 2050 and half of these additional people will be African and the global mechanisation of agriculture is going to be a must.
Anyway returning from such academic contemplation our more immediate concerns were locating food and booze near a suitable coastal campsite. Our first attempt took us through a beautiful umbrella pine protected national park coastal strip to a bay where the onshore wind was driving a surprisingly wavy sea into a sandy foreshore with the remains of a deserted lowrise building which I.mistook for a fish processing building but turned out to be a derelict attempt at a hotel. No beer hear said the two old men encountered sitting beside it sipping ouzo and gnawing on charred corn cobs setting the world to rights. But, with masterful timing said the elder of the two, why didn't we go round the corner to Katherina's bar where we would find 'beer, Ouzo and everything'!
Our dreams came true as we approached the next bay along to find this set up. We passed a fantastic first evening together sharing this beautiful beach with the lovely Katherine who cooked us souvlaki and chips to soak up the beer and wine (the delightful.Peloponnesian Mosxaphilerro grape variety which produces a fragrant white)and Ibrahim the 'beach bar security guard' with whom Alex swopped Arabic pleasantries.....a United Nations beach for the night.
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