Chosen Fugue

It was just so French

We like to be useful. We like to experience what it would be like to live in different places, to step into a different life. So pet sitting works out well for us. We use Trusted Housesitters to find pet sits, but almost 4 years into pet sitting, family and friends are keeping us pretty busy. Let people know you will lovingly and responsibly watch their pets and opportunities just pop up. This time it was an offer to spend a few weeks dog sitting in a 100 year old farmhouse in rural Burgundy, for a long-time friend of Patricia’s, Patricia’s mentor, someone who really shaped her life.

We loved our month in France last year, traveling counterclockwise from Bretagne to Paris, so why not, especially since January is pretty cold, wet and gray and their house has geothermal heat plus it is always nice to see an old friend.

But first we had to get there from Malta. We flew into Marseille for a detour to visit Nick’s nephew in the lovely town of Aix au Provence, which is just a 30 minute train ride from Marseille.

From Marseille to Chalon sur Saône, another classically French town, followed by a meandering car ride through rolling hills of vineyards occasionally punctuated with old stone houses and chateaus.

Yes, there were supermarkets (pretty nice ones) and big box stores, but we avoided those and took the scenic route so not to break the Beauty and the Beast spell.

Yes, it seemed that we were in Belle’s village, which was confirmed as we drove up to the farm house, Belle’s farmhouse; six miles from Buxy France and not a bus stop in sight.

We had a tour of the workshop, greenhouse, billiards/pilates cottage and wine cellar ending with a pre-dinner glass of local Crémant (Patricia’s new favorite). A dinner with more local wine, followed by a dessert wine and we were now properly initiated (inebriated ?) to our new life. The next day was capped off with a dinner out at one of those restaurants that would not be out of place in one of the Trip movies (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Trip_(2010_TV_series) or a New York Times “36 hours in… ” , oh and the dogs went with us, well behaved through the multi-course, multi bottle of wine meal.

The farmhouse, not walkable to anywhere. Trapped by mud everywhere. Rained at some point each day. But, it was beautiful. Each morning, we took the dogs on muddy paths, said hello to the neighbor’s horses, chickens, (caged) rabbits, cat, dog and sheep, and sometimes to the farmer himself.

Then the next morning, we would feed the dogs, hang out, take the dogs on muddy paths, say hello to the neighbor’s horses, chickens, (caged) rabbits, cat, dog and sheep, and sometimes to the farmer himself.

Then the next morning…

On Saturdays we went to the market and walked the Voie Verte, a walking /cycling path (not muddy) connecting some local villages https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Voie_verte.

Everywhere we went looked just like a page out of this French children’s book, even down to the l’echelle and pneu in each yard.

We topped our 3 week French dip with some Dijon. Two days in Dijon. A fun natural history museum, a food museum, classic cathedrals, plazas and the always beautiful buildings.

A quick morning run through the streets of Paris to get to Charles De Gaulle Airport for a flight back to the UK.

PS: We just noticed that reading the posts from the email does not include the featured pic, which often is our favorite one and sometimes the pictures don’t all show up in the emails (empty squares). Click on “blog” in the right hand corner of your email to go to the blog so you can see all the pictures.

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Malta Pans Out

January in Northern Europe, we needed some semblance of warmth. So, Malta! We got a malt a deal on Jet2, so off we flew!

12-15 degrees celsius (54-59 F) which is kind a funny that we now consider that warm, but after chilly, freezing Liverpool, it was. Except almost everyday in Malta we were caught in torrential downpours and dried off by the gale-force winds.

But mediocre weather was not the only reason to go to Malta, we were looking for the knight life. Like all of southern Europe, but even more so due to its strategic location in the mid Mediterranean Sea, Malta has had a long string of foreign rulers. Romans, Phoenicians, Byzantines, followed by the Sicilians, Normans, Moors and Spanish. The twist came in 1530, the Holy Roman Emperor gave Malta to the Knights Hospitaller, homeless crusaders (like us!), for the cost of one Maltese Falcon a year (an actual peregrine falcon). These knights were like the Catholic Army so in their 200 years of ruling, they fortified the island (mainly against the Barbary Pirates). They built castles and forts along the ports

and the impressive walled city of Valetta (now home to well protected restaurants and every name brand clothing store).

And of course some churches, lots of churches and roadside shrines for every saint imaginable.

Another St Maytag? (https://chosenfugue.xyz/2018/10/21/liverpool/

Eventually Napoleon broke through, so then it was French, then British before finally having full self rule in 1971. Even now there are still invasive foreigners; forty percent of the country are ex-pats. People from the UK, Serbia (apparently a high number of retired Serbian footballers), Filipinos, Northern Africans, Italians have settled here.

The legacy of this carousel of foreign rulers seems to be an ambiguous identity, at least to us. The rulers were foreign, even the Maltese Falcon is an ex-pat (ex-pet?) as it is not originally from Malta. Even the souvenir shops struggled with zeroing in on essential Malta. All we saw were T-shirts, wooden spoons, hats, and tea towels with the word Malta and sometimes a generic geometric tile design (all not made in Malta). Just one country specific Playmobile, a generic knight. Maybe that is why we had trouble getting a sense of Malta identity, beyond it being very Catholic. We did find one authentically Maltese item-salt. Along the Malta coast are tons of salt pans sea pictures below), naturally collecting sea salt (Patron saint of salt-St. Morton?)

Finally, something authentically Maltese but we only saw it available at one farmer’s market and one supermarket (and we go to a lot of supermarkets). Through our two week tour, the defining features of Malta seemed to be sea salt and Pete Buttigieg. (His father was from Malta, and Buttigieg is a very common surname in Malta).

Has campaigning already started for 2028?

Malta did have a very distinct architectural styles. The houses/stores were all limestone with characteristic closed balconies (Gallarija). The newer areas also had a characteristic look, not 2-3 story limestone boxes, rather large, new hotel or apartment complexes lining a horseshoe shaped bay (a lot of horseshoe bays).

The sameness sometimes made us feel like we were walking in circles, but we probably were. And walking we did. The main Island of Malta is roughly 9 x 17 miles and its smaller island, Gozo is 4.5 x 8.7 miles. In the capital city of Valetta on Malta and the central city, Victoria on Gozo we could walk to the sea and back in almost any direction. Everything was close, especially the narrow roads with no shoulders. We were constantly clinging to the edges of the roads, stepping into the bushes to avoid cars (although the drivers were exceptionally polite).

And, to add to the confusion, they drive on the left side of the road like in England. So, we were constantly looking the wrong way as we would almost get sideswiped. Fortunately, since Malta is the most demonstratively Catholic country we’ve been to, every step of the way, on most corners and every house, Mary or some other saint was looking over us.

We really enjoyed our three days in Gozo, starting with the windy 20 minute ferry ride from Valetta.

We stayed in the heart of Victoria/Rabat, across from a really great supermarket. From our apartment, we could literally get anywhere either walking or bus (great transit system) in under 30 minutes. First stop was Ggantija one of the oldest man made freestanding structures in the world, 3800–2500 BC (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ġgantija).

Our walks to the northeast coast of Gozo inevitably ended up at the salt pans, some built by the Romans, others by the knights. Many still being used today.

Memorial to people from Malta and Gozo buried elsewhere

We split the rest of our 2 weeks in Valetta between two areas; Sliema and Florina which was just outside the walled city. We thought it was a good way to see the whole island, but actually they were only a 20 minute walk from each other. The big draws for us here were the Ħal Saflieni Hypogeum, a multilevel underground burial chamber from 4,000 BCE https://heritagemalta.mt/explore/hal-saflieni-hypogeum/ and the Għar Dalam Cave and Museum https://heritagemalta.mt/explore/ghar-dalam/. Very cute museum detailing the animals that lived in Malta before the land bridge to Sicily and mainland Europe was covered 160,000 years ago. The cave was where many of the bones were found along with ancient paintings plus old and new graffiti. The museum was surprisingly the only place where we saw animals although all were dead. We did not see squirrels, or many birds, no rabbits, but rabbit stew is a national dish, so maybe that explains it.

Egyptian Geese spotted at the Botanical Gardens

Our initial reaction to our taste of Malta was lukewarm. But, by the end of two weeks we definitely warmed up to Malt-a-deal and it actually was flavorful and filling. We flew on to a wet muddy France still enjoying the fullness left over from Malta.

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It was a Tad bloody

We arrived in Dublin for a week of political detox and to see a childhood friend of Nick’s. This was our fourth stop at the Dublin airport as we prefer to fly here to/from the US. It is actually a pretty small airport, and you do US customs here rather than in the US. They also have a combination Burger King and hotel, or at least we thought it was (our second stay!) We had a very early morning flight, so we booked a booth at the home of the Whopper for the night.

Then on to Liverpool where we were treated to “Lights, Camel, Action” our first British Christmas school play and our first time as grandparents watching a school play. It was great. We also treated ourselves to a Labrador dog sit in a flat in the historic Tobacco Warehouse.

Built in 1901, empty for about 50 years before becoming apartments

This was fun because we had noticed this building on our first Liverpool trip (see it here https://chosenfugue.xyz/2018/10/21/liverpool/ ) and the building was also used in Peaky Blinders, another Peaky Blinders connection (https://chosenfugue.xyz/2026/01/12/albania-mania-2/ The other big thing was it was super close to Costco so we had our first UK Costco experience. Almost everything looked exactly the same as in the US. Same layout, sections, Kirkland products, sample stations, food court, except they pushed their giant Costco carts on the left side of the aisles. While the food court looked the same, in addition to the Costco pizza, they had jacket potatoes! Of course Patricia needed to have one, sharing the excessive amounts of tuna from her jacket potato with Nick’s pizza. We went twice.

Everyone came from the West Coast to spend Christmas in Liverpool, and as everyone left, we decided we should too. It was time for a vacation.

Where to go in Britain is often about the name. Some sound like a nursery rhyme (any place in the Cotswalds), some sound kinda of silly (Studley Roger), some are names of cheese (Leicester) and others are infused with history (yes, some are also just bland- Milton Keyes). All are reasons for us to go.

This time we chose history; Leeds and York, 26 miles apart in North Yorkshire. There were ancient ruins, medieval city walls, majestic churches, good museums, historic buildings, pedestrian-only streets, and quaint winding lanes lined with small shops.

Leeds: Corn exchange building now little shops

Leeds: The very first Marks and Spencer,1884

But, the real action turned out to be where we stayed, between the two cities, in the sleepy village of Tadcaster. Other than being roughly equidistance location, between Leeds and York, Tadcaster is the home of the Samuel Smith brewery which was established in the town in 1758 and sits in the center. In addition to their nice variety of flavorful beers (favorites are the oatmeal and chocolate stouts), they also own pubs and Bed and Breakfasts. So we stayed at a beer, bed and breakfast (?) The bed was fine, the breakfast was filling (full English breakfast minus the bangers and rashers), but the beer was not actually served at the B&B. We had to venture out to the town pubs.

Original brewery was called John Smith, his nephew Samuel Smith took it over in 1886, two other smaller Samuel Smith brewery sites in town, as well.

Sam Smith pubs are also famous for their no electronic devices policy, to maintain the pub culture of spirited conversation. This translates to only pensioners at the pubs we went to. We were the youngsters in the room, but we were good youngsters as we turned our mobiles off. The flagship pub was the first we went to. It was closed down. On the door was an advert seeking a couple to reopen it and run it. Undaunted, we found another neighborhood pub. Walking in felt like we had entered a stereotypic small town movie scene, maybe a zombie movie; zombie seniors? Everyone stopped talking, turned to us and stared. It was even more uncomfortable when we left without ordering. Although they had a whole line of Samuel Smiths on tap, it was an entirely bad selection of their lagers, ciders and bitters. We found another pub, with the exact same selection, and maybe the exact same old people with the exact same silent stare.

Not to be deterred we explored Sam Smith pubs in Leeds and York. Exact same selections and people.

The overflowing Ouse River prevented us from checking out yet another Samuel Smith pub, but of course there was another down the street

The zombies were in unison, messing with us. But this time we reluctantly got a beer, and it was not good. Hence the name, bitter. So, we went back to Tadcaster, for the last remaining Sam Smith place that the B&B lady said was the best. (The Royal Oak).

On way over to the Royal Oak we saw an old man fall, hit his head on a metal railing and then bleed profusely with blood squirting out from a wound on his forehead. A pulsating arterial bleed. His friend was calling the ambulance. He was already sitting in a pool of blood, trousers soaked. Nick applied constant pressure with his always ready handkerchief and tissues and got the bleeding to stop. Patricia stood behind him to support in case he fainted and fell back. We were there for 20-30 minutes holding pressure, waiting for the ambulance.

Our new mate, Ken, had just come from the Royal Oak pub and had had two pints of Sam Smith bitters (ugh) to celebrate his 80th birthday which was that day. It looked like he had lost the two pints of bitters in blood on the street. Eventually, a pediatric ICU nurse drove by and offered more dressings, then a EMT from another county got out of her car and took over, but made it worse by wrapping his head instead of keeping pressure on, and the blood immediately soaked through the dressings. Ken informed us he needed to take a wee, so with Nick and the EMT supporting him, blood pouring down his face because the pressure was removed, and his birthday jumper getting soaked, the three of them walked the 200 + yards, uphill, to his flat, and to his loo. Unfortunately the flat was on the second floor. Patricia and Ken’s younger friend, who told us his name but his accent was so strong, we only caught about 30% of the words, followed the trail of blood and waited for the ambulance.

Finally, after an hour, with more blood (gauze was not as good as the hanky-tissue pressure combination), the emergency triage nurse came, followed by the ambulance. Another 10-15 minutes as all the ambulance and nurses chatted and Ken was loaded in the ambulance, Nick washed all the blood off his hands and rain poncho and we walked over to the pub, and it had same bad selection, so we didn’t get one. A bitter ending to the zombie movie.

Maybe, we will apply for that pub job and turn it into a combination pub-urgent care with a better selection of stouts and medical supplies.

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Sitting Out the Summer

Another California summer watching dogs, cats and llamas, oh my! We seem to have unintentially settled in to a lifestyle of petsitting for family, friends and fellow TrustedHousesitters (see links at the end)*.

Big dogs, little dogs, furry cats and wooly llamas: French Bulldogs (3), Pug, miniature Australian Shepard, Vizsla, King Charles Spaniel, English Spaniel, Portuguese Water Dog, Akbash+Husky mix, Doodles, little terrier mix, and some other kind of mix. Gray cats (2), tabby cats (2), black and white, orange cat, and calico, and various shades of llama.

Boy dogs named Lewis, Rudy, Smokey, Zorro, Henry and Mallard. And the girls; Rio, Olive, Penny, Daisy, Dulce, Abbie, Ellie and Mei Mei. Clementine was obviously the orange cat, Lady Grey obviously grey as was Alice, Reggie a tabby, Sophie was black and white, Tuna the calico, Bella was just bella (see above). And the llamas-Pearl, Freda, Mac and Phil.

We did a lot of walking with our local guides

But we also sat

We enjoyed our stays in many of the historic Northern California hippie towns

Wouldn’t be Bodega without The Birds https://the.hitchcock.zone/wiki/Bodega_Lane,_Bodega,_California

Beautiful tide pools in Bodega Bay which was very exciting because we seem to never find anything in tide pools anymore.

Point Richmond just across from San Francisco, was pretty odd. Nested between industrial East Bay, and the Chevron Oil pier, with a very funny little downtown….

Highlight was the dog sit in San Rafael, a block away from the Frank Lloyd Wright designed Marin Community Center just off the 101. We have driven past hundreds of time, never visited. Now we have, it was worth it. Go see it next time you are just north of San Francisco on the 101.

After enjoying the cool summer of Northern California we dipped down to LA and San Diego, reminding us of how very different San Diego is from LA and both very different from Northern California.

And unfortunately another summer of protests

Sebastopol, Fort Bragg, Santa Rosa and La Jolla. Big turnouts in small towns.

Pets and protests improved our spirits, but by Thanksgiving we were starving for sanity which is in limited supply in the States. So, we went back to Europe on December 1st.

*Our other very pet-centric stories (since we do this much of the time, most include pets) https://chosenfugue.xyz/2023/03/12/the-dog-days-of-summer/ , https://chosenfugue.xyz/2023/03/12/sitting-part-1-location-location-location/ , https://chosenfugue.xyz/2023/03/12/sitting-part-2-animals-animals-animals/, https://chosenfugue.xyz/2025/11/14/montpellier-cat-a-blog/

Trusted Housesitters- how we sit https://www.trustedhousesitters.com/refer/RAF531870/?utm_source=web-native-share&utm_medium=refer-a-friend&utm_campaign=refer-a-friend

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Cheers

Back to the UK to warm up, where cold is better understood than Greece.

We always start with a visit to Liverpool. To prevent overstaying our welcome and limit school week distraction, we did 2 quick dog sits in the Liverpool suburbs

Formby was our first sit. Highlights:

It was near the Red Squirrel preserve, nice place to walk the dogs. Gray squirrels are crowding out the native red squirrels. Unfortunately, we did not see one. Fun fact, gray but not red squirrels like hazelnuts so contraceptive-laced hazelnut butter is being trialed. https://www.wildlifetrusts.org/where_to_see_red_squirrels
The owners preteen kids were nervous about meeting us because they had never met Americans before.
This family had done day trips to Spain- early morning flight out of Liverpool, a walk and dinner in Alicante, then evening flight back. With discount airlines, cheaper than a night out in Liverpool.

Next up was on the Wirral peninsula, the Irish sea side of the Mersey river. Our sit in New Brighton might have been one of our favorite sits. Two big English style golden retrievers (more like hairy labradors), exceptionally nice hosts, comfortable and fun house plus a wonderful elderly neighbor named Ken-who the dogs demanded to visit on each walk. The town was cute too.

From Liverpool we took a day trip to Chester, which is a perfect storybook version of an English town. We walked the city walls around the cathedral, passed the horse racetrack, strolled along the river, looked over the ruins of a Roman amphitheater (in most European cities it seems) and looked over the super cute main street.

We wrapped up this trip with a packed short stay in Manchester. Everything was better than expected. The museums were particularly good; the traditional Manchester museum at the University, the European museum of the year https://www.museum.manchester.ac.uk

The People’s History Museum, the national museum of democracy (oh so needed now) https://phm.org.uk

Patricia’s favorite, the Manchester Art Gallery (https://manchesterartgallery.org) which had a wide variety of pieces, with the information placards next to the pieces just as varied; some traditional descriptions, some written by 8 year old visitors, some a comment on a current event of the time, others gossip about a piece or observations by the museum’s security staff.

Public art also totally hit the mark

“Victory Over Blindness,” WW1 soldiers. Of the 77,000 War Memorials in the UK, this is the ONLY one to honor men disabled in war.

We really hated to leave Europe again, but two of our favorite people were getting married, so we were very happy to go on to Los Angeles.

Greece, ευχαριστώ (Efcharistó)

Nafplio was a 6 night finale to our month in Greece. We took a very scenic, twisty bus ride, from Pyrgos to Nafplio with a stop at every village, no matter how narrow the road. The ride ended with a very dramatic approach as we reached the Argolic gulf.

Nafplio is a star on the ex-pat and Peloponnese travel sites, so expectations were high, but so were the winds and the temperature kind of low. The high expectations coupled with no heat in our apartment, may have tempered our enthusiasm but things did improve when the lodging owner, after 3 days, had told us that yes, the solar heated water could be warmed if we just flipped the switch in the bathroom, but yes heat is very expensive in Greece, so, if possible don’t use it. And, BTW the apartment heater doesn’t work. Yeah ,we noticed. Greek buildings are not built for temperatures in the 40’s. The apartment was lovely though with lemon trees in the garden. But the travel guides were right when they praised the Italian architectural influence, the beaches, the restaurants,

and the proximity to ruins and the islands. We don’t really know about the restaurants (we did walk by a lot) and winter denied access to the islands but we did appreciate the nearby prime archeological sites.

We continue to marvel at the construction of ancient structures https://chosenfugue.xyz/2025/10/11/brittany-rocks/, https://chosenfugue.xyz/2026/01/25/meteora-is-a-hit/ https://chosenfugue.xyz/2019/06/18/into-the-cyrillic-part-1-bulgaria-interior/.

As mentioned, they are typically built at the highest point in an area, using stones larger than cars, appear to defy gravity and are still or partially standing after thousands of years; attesting to the engineering aptitude of the builders. Whereas, we struggle to construct an Ikea coffee table and have it last longer than a Swedish summer. Another chapter in the big book of astonishment and embarrassment for us.

We learned the official word to describe these structures made of giant rocks, Cyclopean, meaning only giant Cyclops could have built them https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cyclopean_masonry. So all our architectural questions answered. Mystery solved. The area around Nafplio is prime cyclopean country, easily explored by bus or by foot.

First stop was Tiryns, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tiryns, a straight 4 km shot north of the Lidl market, with a good mix of sidewalk, dirt path, wide roads and curse-worthy thorn filled paths on narrow roads. A collage of our Greek walks, but as always, worth it. Another salute to winter travel, Tiryns was just us and 2 middle aged British guys.

The tombs were a kilometer or two away from the ancient city, but these tombs were not just off the main road rather they were nestled in orange groves which were nestled in a residential area. While the tomb was noted in blogs and guides, it was pretty hidden and it was an absolute gem.

Plus we ended up with a few oranges. Very tasty, not street oranges.

Our second trip was to Mycenae (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mycenae). A bus dropped us off just outside of the town of Fichti. Taxis waited at the bus stop, but why take a taxi when you can walk 3 miles, uphill. Our politely stated preference for walking, shocked the persistent taxi driver who now had to change his vision of Americans from lazy to crazy. It was a great walk, primarily because we were joined by a dog, who happily led us on a leash free stroll right up to the Tomb of Agamemnon.

Like the tombs at Tiryns, the Tomb was just outside of the ancient city site .

And the city was huge, able to easily accommodate the school and tour groups, which we had not seen at really any of the other sites outside of Athens.

The pictures are better at doing the heavy lifting of describing the ruins.

There were other sites- some we could see from the road (Castle of Argos) and a few others a bit further away, but still doable, but we decided to spend our last few days in Greece exploring Nafplio and its 3 supermarkets, happy to have a kitchen and not constantly on the move. However, due to an unrealized mixup at the checkout, we ended up with a kilogram (2.2 pounds) package of spaghetti noodles that had spilled over on the conveyor belt from the order before us. Since Patricia doesn’t eat wheat, it became spaghetti week for Nick. Doing the math (Nick is always willing) that was 167 gm of spaghetti a night. A normal serving size 75-100 grams. A six night marathon of Cyclopean portions of spaghetti. Carbo loading for no event, but all the pasta cooking kept the apartment warmer.

Our month long odyssey through mainland Greece over, we returned to Athens for our flight back to the UK. Thank you (efcharistó) Greece for a perfectly ruined vacation.

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Our Ancient Olympic Trials

We don’t really like to bounce between towns with one night stays, it feels pretty superficial and it’s difficult to cook when you are leaving the next day (our packing is pretty tight, we try not to carry a pantry). In order to approximate what we wanted to do with the KTEL schedule, that is what we did.

We were really happy when we met our new travel chefs; adorable, easily transported and pretty good.

So, in preparation for our next KTEL designated stop-Kalamata, we got a tub of olive tapenade. With time to kill waiting for the bus at the Sparta depot, and eager to get a preview taste of Kalamata, we ended up devouring the entire tub of olive tapenade to the point of feeling sick and never wanting to see another olive. We recovered on the smooth bus ride via a very nice freeway looping through the central valley, avoiding the windy coastal mountain road (our stomachs appreciated the chosen route).

Kalamata’s lovely central plaza and park were full of families, shops were bustling, beach was breezy, all just very pleasant. You could envision this area being packed (like olives) with tourists in the summer. Kalamata even had its own version of the LA River. It’s understandable that it keeps showing up on lists of great places for ex-pats (ex-pits?). In contrast with the olive tapenade, we could easily have had more of this Kalamata.

Our next KTEL required stop on our way to our ultimate goal of Ancient Olympia was Kyparissia. Since we had very briefly lived in Olympia, WA we were eager to connect with its ancestry. Kyparissia is another beach town, but with unusually boggy beaches of seaweed drifts (felt like walking on sponges). This town did not feel like it was reliant on tourists.

Other than the beach, we struggled to find things to do for the 20 hours we were there (and 3 of those hours were spent waiting on the boggy beach to check in). In fact, Kyparissia may mean struggle in Greek as we also struggled to find our lodging in Kyparissia, then we struggled finding places to eat especially since it was Sunday and markets were closed. Actually, neither of those things were unique to Kyparissia for us.

Pyrgos, our next KTEL destination, and our stay for a couple of nights also did not feel like a major tourist draw, which we appreciated here as it felt like just a working city. It was a short 30 minute meandering local bus ride to the site of Ancient Olympia.

Like Sparta, many travel guides dismissed Ancient Olympia and like Sparta we found it pretty emotionally compelling. Maybe these guides focus on restaurants, easy access, transportation time and shopping which apparently are low on our list of important things.

Ancient Olympia was magical, Nick’s favorite place in Greece (Nick also likes modern Olympia in WA state). While the ruins were ruins, good written descriptions plus an imagination made it feel complete. You could envision the grandeur of the Ancient Olympic Village. The pageantry of the Games. To be able to walk or run on the original track. A true celebration of art, sport and athletics. You could feel the appreciation they had for the athletes and competition.

The museum was tremendous and there is something special about seeing these items where they were found rather than in a city miles away.

These two displays, positioned across from each other in the museum and originally on the east (above) and west (below) pediments of the Temple of Zeus. Beautiful, and fascinating to imagine fully intact in ancient times. The east depicts the chariot race of Pelops and Oinomaos (the fundamental myth of Olympia, which was a battle for the hand of Hippodamia, Oinomaos’s daughter). The west (below) depicting the Battle of Lapiths and Centaurs. A drunken revelry, with the Centaurs (those beasts) attempting the abduction of the lovely Lapith women and fighting during a wedding. Sounds like a modern day TV reality series told in statues.

Another highlight of our Ancient Olympia visit occurred as we were walking over to the site. We had a a chat with a very gregarious gentleman who seemed to be the unofficial city greeter. Called into his souvenir and jewelry shop, he proceeded to share with us files and files of pictures with celebrities; a lot of US military, George and Barbara Bush and tourists from all over. His photo collection included a picture of him as a teen carrying the Olympic torch as it began its journey from ancient Olympia to Montreal for the 1976 Olympics. Our send off was a picture with him, wearing our laurels and holding an Olympic torch.

Back to Pyrgos, we tried to celebrate our triumphant day with a cup of hot milk (Centaurs, we are not!). Nick put a cup with a gold painted handle in the microwave. It cracked and the handle broke into 3 pieces. He grabbed the pieces then realized they were burning hot, torching the tips of multiple fingers. The pieces were hurled to the ground. The place started smelling, he thought it was the microwave, but it was the broken pieces singeing the rug. A quick clean up of the burned rug and slight shift of the coffee table to cover the medal-sized burn spots. He re-glued the cup handle with super glue we had from an earlier shoe repair of Patricia’s boots but the results were not a winning effort. We then dashed to 5 different stores in Pyrgos to find a decent substitute to replace the broken mug. The final result is we really got to know Pyrgos, saw a rainbow and Nick found a 10 euro bill on the street. We bought a matched pair of mugs, but once back we noticed one had a cracked handle, so he raced off to exchange it, completing the accident pentathlon. Quite an Olympic day! Be careful when you reach for the gold!

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KTEL Presents Greece’s Greatest Rocks and Ruins

Having successfully mastered Albania’s no bus system-no bus station minibus-sedan-tag-team transportation we felt ready to tackle the Greek bus system. Greece had big buses and actual bus stations with staffed information counters, tickets, gift shops and cafeterias. However, efficient travel off season was mythical. Greece’s Achilles heel was its bus schedule.

Buses usually ran twice a week; typically just Fridays and Sundays, and connections usually did not line up. Partially because each municipalities had its own bus company (and website) and there was limited to no coordination between them, even if they were all called KTEL, all 62 of them. KTEL Leftkadis, KTEL Ioannion, KTEL Fokidas, and on and on.

From Athens we debated our next move studying geography, schedules and timing. Multiple Venn diagrams later, the conclusion was we’d have to stay someplace longer or shorter than desired, and skip planned stops since the buses did not stop where we wanted in the winter, there are no trains and we don’t rent cars. Solution was to go to places not on our plan or that we had never heard of. Our travel planner became the KTEL buses. Unfortunately, not the always reliable/always dependable K-TEL of Veg-O-Matic, Miracle Brush and other late night products infomercial fame.

Our goal was the south east tip of the Peloponnese peninsula, Monemvasia. The added benefit of this journey would be passing through Nick’s Papou’s (grandfather’s) birthplace of Sykea. It was a long ride, an exciting pass over the Corinth canal https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Corinth_Canal and then a transfer in Sparta. (Looks far but just 4 hours of car driving, 6 hours by bus)

The buses often stop in every little town, but Sykea was so small and insignificant that the bus barreled through (barreled=30mph). Sykea was a good place to be from. It appeared to consist of a few houses, a soccer field and an Orthodox Church.

Monemvasia, just a bit further down the road, was a bigger draw because it had the Rock with the fortress at the top. Momenvasia is the rock that seems to have rolled a bit off the tip of the continent, that little tip is the tiny town of Gafira.

Definitely a summertime place so we went in the winter. A bit of the end of the world feel with empty streets except for the occasional tourist (oh, that would be us).

Stayed in a family run Inn. The innkeeper, who looked like a Greek version of Patricia’s mother, set up the little guest breakfast buffet each morning then sat down with her husband, read the paper, they drank their coffee and ate their breakfast. Starting to really feel like home? Patricia’s roots were felt, as well.

Momenvasia is like a Greek Mt St Michel only more layered and ruined https://chosenfugue.xyz/2025/10/11/brittany-rocks/.

Starting at the bottom layer, it’s all up hill, leveling out a bit to a small plaza and you get the first view of the sea.

Each layer, a different flavor with churches, parts of undetermined buildings and views of the Myrtoan/Aegean sea.

Coming down we were slowed down by some construction traffic, horses hauling bricks and dirt.

We actually really enjoyed this little town so we and the KTEL bus schedule decided we should stay an extra day.

After wrestling the rock, we decided to go on to Sparta. A lot of travel guides discouraged but not KTEL, it was the only stop we could do and hey, it was Sparta. It defines our lifestyle, so we went. Thank you K-TEL, the Spart-a-matic stop was a good deal, we really loved it, we couldn’t live without it!

Walked through the small but vibrant downtown to get to the Spartan ruins. Nothing fancy, no gates, no fences, you could walk right into them. Evocative and really, really beautiful.

It was glory. “But wait, there’s more”. The next day we bused up to the larger ruins Mystras.

But decided we were happy with just Sparta, turned around and walked back since it had been like a week without walking along dangerous narrow roads.

And of course, found hidden gems, off the beaten track.

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Los Athens

The spiritual high of walking through the majestic monasteries perched on the Meteora lingered as our bus traveled southeast towards Athens. The landscape changed to familiar, looking like the drive south from Northern California through the Grapevine on the 5. But then the snowy caps of Mt Olympus, home of the Gods, came into view.

Far more impressive than the ungodly Mt Olympus in Los Angeles. Different idols, different snow.

It was nice to have a landmark to guide us in a new city. The Acropolis sitting atop the hill in the middle of Athens served as such. Walking around town, it directed us back to our apartment in the Makriyanni neighborhood. We knew to approach it from a certain side, swing around until it was behind us to find our street.

Seeing it daily made us think of the ancient Greeks who looked up to it daily, as well. What was their life like, always looking up to where the gods were honored? For Los Angelenos, similar to the Hollywood Sign. Building of the Acropolis began in 415 BCE, but with each subsequent owner (Mycenaeans, various Greeks, Romans, Byzantines and Ottomans) and earthquakes it was remodeled. Just like a LA.

The first day we walked up to the Acropolis; no reservation needed, half price tickets because it was January (2025).

Of course it was awe inspiring, but maybe more thought provoking was seeing graffiti spanning thousands of years or hearing people speaking languages from all over the world, common curiosity.

While it was magnificent, in some ways more striking were the remnants of the village below on the flat lands and the archeological sites that popped up through the city. On the hill below the Acropolis, you could see outlines of houses and shops with the scattered ruins.

The winding dirt roads providing another sense of the ancient city planning around the Acropolis center. Throughout, striking juxtaposition of buildings, one communicating with the other from across the city.

The Tomb on Filopappou Hill as seen from the Acropolis

But Athens is not just the old. it’s a nice mix of modern, ancient with a lot of in between, but mostly the 1960’s. A new building adjacent to an archeological excavation adjacent to midcentury apartment blocks adjacent to a mini-mart in a 1920’s storefront.

Socrates’s prison eerily like the old Los Angeles Zoo in Griffith Park

Like all of Europe, wandering through the streets and museums of Athens was like seeing snapshots from a rotation of civilizations and governments.

The changing of the guards(evzones) at the tomb of the unknown soldier on the hour was surprisingly fun to watch https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Presidential_Guard_(Greece), watch here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AsSx47j6gmU

Medical tools, yes that is an ancient speculum

Consistent with most mediterranean cities, Citrus trees (and cats) lined the streets. Despite our continued enthusiasm for city fruit trees, we’ve learned from experience in Cyprus, Croatia and Spain, not to pick because of course we have. They’re terrible. But not wasted, they are used to make marmalade, but more commonly for compost. The plants though were kinda of as beautiful as the buildings- the citrus trees, cypress, bougainvillea, lone pine, oak, the ubiquitous olive, and even the random jacaranda tempering the massive, massive, massive city metropolis sprawl from the the sea and up along the surrounding low lying hills. Again, kinda like LA.

We joined the crowds to watch the sunset on one of Athen’s 7 hills and then time to leave the next day.

We walked to the bus station at the edge of town to head to the Peloponnese, of course not taking the tram, but walking the couple plus kilometers to the bus station. Walking along the outskirts, away from the original town centers you get a more complete view of what life is like now. Those off-the-beaten track, hidden gems everyone wants to find. We do enjoy the meandering, especially when there are good sidewalks.

Two thumbs up, Athens.

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Meteora is a hit

A scenic bus ride out of Albania; snowy and mountainous, entertained at the Greek border bus stop with stray dogs and puppies (nice watching the border patrol guys get bags of dog food from their cars and feed the dogs).

Dropped off in the parking lot of a cafe on the edge of town, which made a lot of sense since although we were now in Greece, the bus originated in Albania (see last post). We walked towards our lodging in the town of Kalabaka. A typical walk for us along an unsafe road with Patricia complaining about the road being unsafe as we hugged the edges when cars and trucks passed. And then this appeared in front of us.

Pictures do not come close to showing how massive these are. A series of enormous pillars shooting out of the ground creating a compact forest of rock, like rainbow magic rocks from childhood. But these were not the only awe inspiring features.

At the top of the columns were massive monasteries plus one convent, all built in the 1300s.

We took a bus up to the top to the first monastery, Agios Stefanos, then walked to Roussanou, Varlaam, Great Meteoron, Agios Nikolaos, and Holy Trinity.

We walked, of course, on a somewhat narrow road, which would have been a bad idea in the high season.

Stopping frequently to pause and stare.

The town of Kastraki at the base of the Meteora

Again, another example of people the finding highest point(s) in an area, and then the insane addition of a seemingly impossible to build religious structure (or sometimes defense structures). Gods and Wars, describes almost all of history.

So many buildings, in so many places, massive edifices, exceptional efforts. Tsarevets in Veliko Tarnova, Bulgaria. Mont St Michel in France, Santuario Madonna di San Luca in Bologna, the Alhambra in Granada, Spain……. Just crazy in terms of devotion, labor, and engineering ingenuity.

In awe, we then returned back to town, following a path down through the Meteora.

Return to Kalabaka.