The drive to Meteora wasn’t too bad– on our way into the mountains we went through 13 or 14 short tunnels. It poured a few times, and I slept for about half of the three hour trip. I drove the return leg and I wish I could say the trip was equally uneventful– we had barely left Meteora when our rented Fiat 500 jerked violently and every single indicator light turned on it and a bunch of warning messages popped up. I pulled over while we tried to decide what to do, but the manual was entirely Italian and a Google search of “Fiat 500 indicator lights” gave absolutely zero clues as to whether we should try to keep driving or not. For the next 160 kilometers every time we passed a mile marker I’d take note of the odometer in case we had to break down and start walking. Though the car annoyingly wouldn’t stay in the correct gear going down the many hills it managed to keep itself together until it stalled a toll booth. I thought we were done for but it mercifully started again. When we turned it in the rental agent agreed the transmission didn’t sound right. Needless to say the whole experience has left me entirely unimpressed with Fiat.
Meteora itself surpassed expectations; the scenery was truly surreal and while the pictures are amazing they can’t fully do the place justice. The name Meteora derives from the Greek word for “elevated” or “suspended” as apparently in the winter a fog settles in the area that makes the rocks look like they are floating. The rocks were formed and eroded by an ancient river delta millions of years ago; hermetic monks took refuge in them during Ottoman times and eventually consolidated themselves into rock-top monasteries. The monasteries were launched in popular cultural after they featured in the Bond movie For Your Eyes Only in the 1980s. Now they are super touristy, and for good reason!
We stayed in a lovely old village house nestled right up against the rocks. The house itself was just OK– the bed was rock hard and a little lumpy, but after two years of traveling around Europe I’m convinced it’s partially a cultural thing. We were prepared to chill for a bit having left the house at 4 am, flown to Thessaloniki, stopped at Vergina, and driven for several hours to get there, but then we decided it would be better to gather our rosebuds and see a monastery or two before they closed for the evening.
A fabulous century-old village house, unfortunately in disrepair:
Our rented Fiat 500, with Italian style and also engineering:
We visited the Monastery of St. Stephan which is a nunnery. I thought I had come prepared by wearing long pants and long sleeves, but the nun wouldn’t let me in unless I tied on a skirt over my pants. Meanwhile, I waltzed in Megalo Meteora the next day with bare arms and mostly bare legs. Sev got to go in with shorts. The nuns are tough, yo.
The monastery was lovely:
The church had very fine frescoes. But at both of the monasteries we visited this trip, I noticed that the frescoes in the narthex were extraordinarily violent. Picture any form of Biblical torture you can imagine and these fine frescoes depicted it. People were being burned, crucified, and beheaded all over the place. In Megalo Meteora’s narthex I counted at least 26 people with their heads off before I got tired and stopped counting. I will have to start paying better attention in Cypriot churches and see if it’s the same phenomenon. I am sure there must be some sort of symbolism in having all the death and destruction in the antechamber and then the serene faces of Jesus, the disciples, and angels in the main church.
The big wooden plank in the left of the photo above is called a talanton, it is beaten with a wood mallet to call the nuns to prayer. It symbolizes how Noah beat a plank to call the animals to the ark.
And for the folks back home, here is a shot of me among the monasteries:
