A Guide's Diary
Experience the sleep-deprived, chaotic reality of leading a relentless tour across Greece's historic landscapes. This is my unfiltered confession of life on the road
VIEWS
Konstantina Kalimeri
6/14/20262 min read
The last few weeks have been passing by with the days blurring together, I often wake up and don't know where I am. Everything has become a medley of tastes and bright images.
In the background stands the highest peak of the North Aegean, Mount Saos, an island as mystical as the ancient gods who dwelled in its sanctuary. Samothrace is just two hours away by ferry, but we are not crossing over to it today. On the shores of Alexandroupoli, rock samphire grows. We went over and tasted it raw, salty, having soaked up the brine of the sea. That is how we began our journey, with the salt that makes everything more interesting and delicious.
Everything is in bloom and the trees are bearing fruit. Their fruits gleam juicy like those of the Tree of Knowledge, though they aren't always edible! I didn't have time to warn them before an eager, outstretched hand grabbed a bitter orange, peeled it meticulously, and popped it into their mouth. An exclamation of disgust! The fruit and its bitter juices roll onto the ground, and one might say they heard it laughing sadistically.
We are now in Amphipolis. From above, we look down at the silver Strymon river, resembling a snake protecting the nearby burial mound. The day is clear, and looking toward the sea beyond the fields full of poppies, we can see Mount Athos. It wasn't this sunny when Mardonius the Persian tried to pass with his fleet, only to end up shipwrecked. But I can see other ships in my imagination.
However, we are following someone else now, someone who took almost the same route as the Persian. The Apostle Paul might have stopped to rest in ancient Apollonia. Today, we find an Ottoman bathhouse there nothing ancient. In the past, there would have been a station somewhere for travelers to rest. With the land redistribution, the machinery plowed deep into the earth, the heavy tractor wheels left behind their tracks and a layer of destruction over an ancient city.
The straits of Rentina leave us with anything but a bitter taste. The landscape is idyllic, with the castle ruins guarding the passage for centuries. We arrive in Thessaloniki at dusk, have dinner, and then the conversations begin. The tables gather around us, the lights dim, and no one realized how it suddenly became midnight.
We pack our things; tomorrow we have to sleep somewhere else... Veria, Methoni, Meteora, Delphi, Piraeus, Athens, Corinth.
Back on the bus, on the ferry. Mornings at the Acropolis, sunsets at Sounion, and a coffee in Thebes to fight off the insomnia, next to the cat a girl named Catmus (cat + Cadmus). Waking up at 5 AM. Today I fell asleep on a book about Aegina… In my dream, Aphaia rang my doorbell wearing a delivery uniform, she said she brought the marbles of her temple back from Munich. Inside a cardboard postal box sealed with plastic tape: a helmeted head, a wounded warrior.