16 December 2025
Greece: From Delphi and Olympia to Monasteries and Mountains
We traced a looping path through Greece’s layered past—standing where oracles once spoke at Delphi, where naked athletes competed at Olympia, and where monasteries at Meteora cling impossibly to stone. Mountain roads, small villages, shared meals, and quiet moments filled the spaces between history’s great markers.
Tractor blockades, flooded roads and potholed farm paths are all but forgotten. On the other hand, we will long remember Greek drivers and their penchant for narrowly passing on uphill blind curves. Greek drivers truly be crazy.
After traversing some 920 miles, Greek toll roads and our trusty little blue Suzuki Swiftie led us back to Athens. The gas mileage appeared good, the price of gas shocking even for this Californian.
Before us, the Acropolis rose not just as a monument, but as a culmination—of stories, miles, wine, laughter, and reflection. In its shadow, ancient and modern Greece greeted us, reminding us why we visit.
Beggars, Buskers, and Brutal Traffic
We traded the quiet roads of the Peloponnese for the bright, festive chaos of Athens, where countryside calm gave way to bumper to bumper traffic and streets alive with sound. Musicians played for coins, rose peddlers wove through café tables, and the homeless shared the sidewalks—each part of the city’s modern life.
Judging each city visited by how they treat their cats – Athens is a winner!
In the Plaka, the kraxímatades—those theatrical chatterboxes—beckoned us inside with menus and promises of the best moussaka or freshest fish. It was all part performance, part survival, unfolding beneath the ancient stones where foxes slip through ruins and cats lounge in the sun, indifferent witnesses to modern life among ancient history.
Greek Letters and Wrong Turns
Surviving Greek letters and wrong turns became its own daily adventure. Road signs blurred into a beautiful puzzle of unfamiliar characters, just long enough for Google Maps to recalculate—again—while our little blue Swiftie scoffed at Greek drivers and carried on. Missed exits led to farm roads and little villages, unexpected switchbacks, and detours that felt an adventure rather than mistake.
Through it all, we were grateful that the Greeks understood us even when we didn’t understand the language. Smiles, gestures, patient explanations, and the universal language of food and kindness carried us forward.
With a sense of humor, Gabrielle’s excellent navigation, and Google Maps that mostly worked, every wrong turn became part of the story—and part of why the journey felt so wonderfully fun.
The Measure of a City: Its Street Cats
We learned to judge each city by how it treated its street cats—and by that measure, Greece passed with ease. Almost without exception, the cats were well fed and friendly, even polite, bowls of food and water tucked discreetly into corners, signs of quiet neutering programs at work. In Nafplio, a devoted cat lady appeared each evening to feed the port cats, a nightly ritual as dependable as sunset.
Scrappy Galaxidi harbor cats aside, the message was clear: Greeks love their cats. And if we had to name a divine protector, it would surely be Artemis—goddess of animals, wild places, and watchful care—keeping an eye on her feline charges.
Steps – Not Just Into Ruins of History
We counted our steps and floors, wishing we could do as well when not traveling. Glass of wine – no problem – we have 300 steps to climb to that monastery. So, some 143,920 steps and 264 floors later, we feel fit if not lighter.
After two weeks and over 50 walking miles, we return to our hotel to retrieve our luggage and walk to the Metro for our return to Athens International Airport. Our 90-minute trip must rank as one of the worst public transit Metro-to-airport systems in Europe.
Arriving at ATH, we walk across the street to the Sofitel where we sleep for the night. Our Lufthansa flight to Munich leaves tomorrow at 6:35 am. Checked in and seats confirmed. Our hotel to lounge-coffee walk taking only 15 minutes of our time.
In Munich, the new digital gates need digitization. Slow, slow, slow. Time in LH Lounge; good news, I’m upgraded to business. Now I’m not so jealous of Gabrielle’s Polaris on United. Here, we will separate: I fly to Denver, Gabrielle flies off to Chicago. Weather seems on better behavior than for Gabrielle’s outbound flights.
Wine, Ouzo, and One Last Table
We spent our Greek adventure enjoying mostly good December weather, mild days and cool nights. Some rain, a taste of Severe Thunderstorm Byron. We wandered among rocks and ruins that have outlasted empires, and paused for the serious business of eating. White wine and Retsina our drink of choice: we made Dionysus proud.
Souvlaki, grilled octopus and squid, olives and bean dips appear with the same regularity as the Acropolis rises above the city. Local wines flowed like history itself—impossible to ignore. Between bites and sips, we watched Greeks go about their lives, listened to bouzouki music and drums drifting from squares, and developed a lasting appreciation for Greece.
Greeks are warm, generous, and quietly show the visitor exactly what matters to them—kindness, enjoyment of daily life, and the small truths, like their honored cats, that reveal a wonderful culture.
I wonder if any of Greece’s ancient philosophers ever imagined dinner, and life, could be this good?
