Nafplio (Greece, the seventeenth day)
Aug. 28th, 2011 06:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hawkwing_lbWhere Archaio Corinth had dogs, big dogs and little dogs, dogs by the dozen and dogs by the score, Nafplio has cats. They pad languidly under the eves of the old houses and wash themselves on the corners of the town's narrow streets, winding out from underneath flowering arbours to mew demandingly at passers-by. I came out of my hotel in search of dinner this evening to be accosted by two young sleek things, a slinky tortoiseshell tabby and a skinny black boy who could have been Basement Cat to the life, right down to the accusing yellow eyes. God, I miss my cat. I miss having my ear snuffled into while I sleep.
Yes, I'm in Nafplio, in a hotel twenty metres from the harbour and twenty metres from the town square. True to his word, Dr. S. gave me a lift to the Isthmus bus station at 1300 (I must remember to write him a note of thanks, when I get home), and in Greece, buses actually run on Sundays with reasonable regularity. I spent an hour in the bus station before the Nafplio bus appeared and took me up aboard, entertaining myself by considering all the horrible things which I'd been anticipating and which had so far failed to happen to me that morning.
The road from Corinth into the Argolid cuts through country where the soil is red as rust, and the hills rise sere and umber over olive-grown plains. We passed within sight of Mycenae, and even from three klicks away, the masonry blocks of its fortification walls stood out grey and forbidding atop its low hill. My fellow passengers smelled of coffee and sweat, and what I saw of Argos as we passed through it makes me rather glad to be staying here instead.
We came into Nafplio around 1500. The town is dominated by the fortress of Akronafplio, on the overlooking hill, and that of Bourtsi on a small island across from the harbour mouth. The town centre's smaller than I was expecting, a tangle of narrow streets hemmed in by 18th-century Ottoman houses, opening here into the starting wideness of Syndagma Square, there to the blue expanse of the Argolid Gulf, tavernas that spill out on to the pavements bowered by flowering creepers, shops here and there opening into a fascinating array of jewellery, woodcrafts, herbs and preserves, art.
Despite not really having much idea where I was going, I found my hotel within minutes, and after changing, set out in search of the swimming area the concierge (I want to say landlady: she has the proprietorial air) assured me in a combination of Greek and English could be discovered within minutes.
And discover it I did, in the lee of an Ottoman buttress of the harbour fortifications, black-painted cannons resting in the embrasures. Not a beach, but a dip off a couple of encircling piers in the lee of the Akronafplio, where the water shoaled rapidly from the shallows. There were few other people there: a small Greek family,and a woman who came along to fish while I was sunning myself dry and took a liking to me, in consequence of which I learned (through Greek) that she herself was from Athens originally but her dead husband (whether he was her husband of twenty years, or dead twenty years, my Greek wasn't good enough to tell, but he was definitely dead) was from Nafplio, that she spoke very little English and was impressed that I'd learned some Greek.
I beat me a retreat shortly hereafter, and went back to the hotel, finding out bus times for Epidavros en route. Epidavros tomorrow - and though the Institute's A.D. went to the trouble of getting me permits to make measurements, I rather doubt I'll be availing of the facility tomorrow. We'll see what the site's like - I can always go back on Wednesday, if needed (Tuesday I'm to meet the tour at Lerna) - tomorrow before I make up mind.
The evening grew shockingly cool - only 25C, how distressingly near to cold! - and I went in search of dinner. I ended up gorging myself on dinner and dessert: I've officially exceeded my Comfort Food Limit for bleeding times with that particular helping of profiteroles. If it gets this cool again tomorrow, I need to go for a run. No, I'm not going tonight. I'd make myself sick, if I did. That was too much food.
I'm still covered in insect bites. I didn't get bitten in Corinth, but the ones from Athens won't go away. This is possibly because I've scratched the ones on my arms until they bleed, and they still itch like the torment of the damned, rather than giving up and being just plain sore.
Nafplio is beautiful, but... tourist-full. Full of Athenians and Americans on holiday. I get the feeling this is the kind of town that mutters about "summer people" and gets a lot quieter in the winter. I like it, but it's almost too relaxed and laid-back right now: it doesn't quite feel real...
Shit, you know what it is? It's too clean. Where's the graffiti and the dust, the faint smell of catpiss and the odour of rubbish bins left too long between emptyings? The strata of cigarette butts and the odd stains on the pavements? This cannot be a real town!
It's all a trick, I tell you. A trap, to lure in the unwary, but I've caught them out. Oh yes, I'll be on my guard now...
Joking aside, I'm off early tomorrow. Wish me luck.
Yes, I'm in Nafplio, in a hotel twenty metres from the harbour and twenty metres from the town square. True to his word, Dr. S. gave me a lift to the Isthmus bus station at 1300 (I must remember to write him a note of thanks, when I get home), and in Greece, buses actually run on Sundays with reasonable regularity. I spent an hour in the bus station before the Nafplio bus appeared and took me up aboard, entertaining myself by considering all the horrible things which I'd been anticipating and which had so far failed to happen to me that morning.
The road from Corinth into the Argolid cuts through country where the soil is red as rust, and the hills rise sere and umber over olive-grown plains. We passed within sight of Mycenae, and even from three klicks away, the masonry blocks of its fortification walls stood out grey and forbidding atop its low hill. My fellow passengers smelled of coffee and sweat, and what I saw of Argos as we passed through it makes me rather glad to be staying here instead.
We came into Nafplio around 1500. The town is dominated by the fortress of Akronafplio, on the overlooking hill, and that of Bourtsi on a small island across from the harbour mouth. The town centre's smaller than I was expecting, a tangle of narrow streets hemmed in by 18th-century Ottoman houses, opening here into the starting wideness of Syndagma Square, there to the blue expanse of the Argolid Gulf, tavernas that spill out on to the pavements bowered by flowering creepers, shops here and there opening into a fascinating array of jewellery, woodcrafts, herbs and preserves, art.
Despite not really having much idea where I was going, I found my hotel within minutes, and after changing, set out in search of the swimming area the concierge (I want to say landlady: she has the proprietorial air) assured me in a combination of Greek and English could be discovered within minutes.
And discover it I did, in the lee of an Ottoman buttress of the harbour fortifications, black-painted cannons resting in the embrasures. Not a beach, but a dip off a couple of encircling piers in the lee of the Akronafplio, where the water shoaled rapidly from the shallows. There were few other people there: a small Greek family,and a woman who came along to fish while I was sunning myself dry and took a liking to me, in consequence of which I learned (through Greek) that she herself was from Athens originally but her dead husband (whether he was her husband of twenty years, or dead twenty years, my Greek wasn't good enough to tell, but he was definitely dead) was from Nafplio, that she spoke very little English and was impressed that I'd learned some Greek.
I beat me a retreat shortly hereafter, and went back to the hotel, finding out bus times for Epidavros en route. Epidavros tomorrow - and though the Institute's A.D. went to the trouble of getting me permits to make measurements, I rather doubt I'll be availing of the facility tomorrow. We'll see what the site's like - I can always go back on Wednesday, if needed (Tuesday I'm to meet the tour at Lerna) - tomorrow before I make up mind.
The evening grew shockingly cool - only 25C, how distressingly near to cold! - and I went in search of dinner. I ended up gorging myself on dinner and dessert: I've officially exceeded my Comfort Food Limit for bleeding times with that particular helping of profiteroles. If it gets this cool again tomorrow, I need to go for a run. No, I'm not going tonight. I'd make myself sick, if I did. That was too much food.
I'm still covered in insect bites. I didn't get bitten in Corinth, but the ones from Athens won't go away. This is possibly because I've scratched the ones on my arms until they bleed, and they still itch like the torment of the damned, rather than giving up and being just plain sore.
Nafplio is beautiful, but... tourist-full. Full of Athenians and Americans on holiday. I get the feeling this is the kind of town that mutters about "summer people" and gets a lot quieter in the winter. I like it, but it's almost too relaxed and laid-back right now: it doesn't quite feel real...
Shit, you know what it is? It's too clean. Where's the graffiti and the dust, the faint smell of catpiss and the odour of rubbish bins left too long between emptyings? The strata of cigarette butts and the odd stains on the pavements? This cannot be a real town!
It's all a trick, I tell you. A trap, to lure in the unwary, but I've caught them out. Oh yes, I'll be on my guard now...
Joking aside, I'm off early tomorrow. Wish me luck.
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no subject
Date: 2011-08-28 08:11 pm (UTC)Nafplio sounds beautiful. Maybe in time you could get used to the eerie cleanliness...
no subject
Date: 2011-08-28 08:32 pm (UTC)Pretty as a picture, is Nafplio. I'll be off again on Thursday morning, so who knows?
no subject
Date: 2011-08-29 06:55 am (UTC)We seem to have had similar days. :). Santa Monica was only 70? 80? Either way, HUGE change from 109 in Riverside. Also, Santa Monica was, like, so full of super happy shiny people that look like they could be on tv it was creepy.
I am glad you found a place to swim!
no subject
Date: 2011-08-29 04:05 pm (UTC)Yeah, swimming yesterday was good. Today, though... Today had all the steps in the world, and no swimming.