Mistras

Saturday 23^rd October 2010

Sunrise today (well ~8am) and the waves were still pounding the beach. Stratus cumulus perlucidus hung across the seaward sky, so we decided to follow the example of previous residents at Limonas (according to the visitor’s book) and headed out to the ancient fortified town of Mistras. The city, a UNESCO world heritage site, lies about 7km to the west of Sparta.

The ruins are vast, so vast that there are two entrances – for the lower town and for the upper town and castle. Arriving at the lower entrance I practiced by Greek “Yasas –dhio” (Hello – 2 ) and paid the €10 for the two of us. Then made use of the WC – downstairs to the left of the main entrance – before re-entering the lower town and exploring the ruins. We made it up to the palace but returned to the car for lunch.

After lunch we drove to the upper entrance and explored the Castro (621m above sea level) and the church of St Nicholas.

The face of St Nicholas?

The only full time residents of Mistras now are the nuns at the Monastery of Pantanassa and their numerous cats.

The ruins are amazing, with great wall paintings in the churches and absolutely stunning views of Sparta in the valley below and the mountains behind.

We headed back to the cottage for a very quick and very cold shower before heading out for dinner. The visitor’s book had recommended Pimpernelli’s, but it was shut. So we headed into Monemvasia again, this time to Marianthi. The woman owner was again very keen to get us in, and explained most of the menu in very broken English. A sole American on the next table tried to engage us in conversation several times but we were able to ignore him most of the time.

Maybe I was in a strange mood that night – I found the owner of the restaurant quite annoying as she tried to explain the menu to us while being overly familiar and patting be on the shoulder, but I also found the American to be quite odd. He was obviously by himself but did mention that he had daughters and that he spent most of the year living in Switzerland and three months living in Monemvasia. We were to see him several more times during our stay but again managed not to stop to talk to him. He’s probably a really nice bloke.

Despite the misgivings I had about the restaurant, dinner was actually very good. I had Village Feta cheese to start; a slice of Feta drizzled in olive oil and herbs, which we both finished before D’s stuffed peppers arrived. They were very yummy as well. D had veal in some sort of sauce with chips for her main, while I had Stamna – a veal stew cooked in a pot. The meat was very tasty and just fell apart. Although we didn’t order dessert we were presented with a light honey soaked slice of breadcrumbs with cinnamon.

Back to the cottage (and the rats in the roof) for another beer and to write up the journal. Its only 8.20pm and I feel shattered. Its Saturday night, so that means we are already half way through our holiday. Sitting in the cottage I can still hear the waves pounding the shore line.