It's All Greek to Me

We woke up at 3.45 am and, after some frantic packing, we were on the road just after half past four. Soon the horrors of the Sofia ring road were left behind and we were heading south, to the Greek border. The formalities at Kulata did not hold us up for long and we stopped in a lovely field, just off the main road, for a well-earned picnic breakfast. We took the wrong turning in Thessaloniki and that slowed things down a bit. There were lots of tunnels as we drove on through the mountains, past Ioanna and on to Arta. We got a bit lost again in Arta, but finally we arrived at the Marathia Hotel in Chenapolou just after two. What a drive it was!

A toll-free picnic

Greece really is wonderful! The food, the scenery, the language, the weather, the people: it’s all lovely. Now for two little moans. The Greek roads are absolutely beautiful, scenic, almost empty of traffic and well-surfaced. Most of the ones we drove on were dual carriageways and they are obviously a lot better maintained than most Bulgarian roads. 




And that is another 13 euros, please.


There is, however, a simple reason why your Greek όδος is so superior to its Bulgarian cousin: you pay for it. And then you pay again. And again. Ευχαριστώ πολύ. Toll stations appear with depressing regularity on most major highways and they are not as attractive as those bushes by the wayside that are covered in pretty pink and white flowers. 




The pink and white bushes by the roadside are so pretty, but the toll stations aren't.





Absolutely delicious (and the food was good too)

The other (and depressingly predictable) little moan happened when we arrived at the port in Kilini, to get on the ferry to Zakynthos: the ferry workers were on strike. I felt a bit like Michael Palin in Round the World in Eighty Days, when he discovered that the Orient Express would not be going to Venice because the Italian railway workers were on strike, and so he had to take a coach from Innsbruck. (The German for "strike" is streik, in case you were wondering.) 

Our first-ever Greek breakfast (and very good it was)

Καλημέρα and we had a delicious Greek breakfast at the Marathia Hotel. The hotel is out in the countryside, a few kilometres out of Arta. It is quiet, green and surrounded by fruit trees. Well, it would be quiet and peaceful, if not for those half a million cicadas rubbing various parts of their anatomies together. We could not hang around too long and so we did not have much time to see Arta. The old bridge looked rather splendidly ancient and stony. Maybe we will have a look around on our way back to Sofia. 

And while we are on the subject of bridges, we had to pay 13 euros to cross the one at Patra and then - yes, you guessed it first time! - we had to pay another 13 euros to cross it again on the way back. 

The ferry port in Kilini (we got to know it TOO well)