And so to Greece

Catching first sight of the Aegean Sea through the bustling streets of Thessoloniki was a special moment for us. Although we had taken the long route, nevertheless there seemed to be something significant about reaching the ocean having ‘crossed the continent’. There used to be a radio four programme called ‘Crossing Continents’. I thought a nice parody would be an alternative called ‘cross incontinents.’ Lots of things to be cross about, I guess! But we weren’t in the least; relieved, happy and accomplished.

The night before we had crossed the border in 38 degrees with only one thing in mind; fluid inside and out. Crossing from Bulgaria you climb down through hills to get a first glimpse of the Macedonian plain. Undulating hills with mixed woodland, scrub and farmland. We had identified a lake that looked promising as a campsite, and dived off the autoroute onto a lattice of B roads. It was great to be in Greece again. So much seemed familiar. The village structure, a taverna or two, shops and churches as well as people sitting doing little.! Nothing special, but ordinariness can have appeal after deprivation. Here was a Taverna with a few ancients playing cards and a TV showing a soccer match in an empty stadium. Two cold Amstels appeared in an instant.

The landlord assured us that we could get to the river if we went two kilometres up the road and turned left. Now, interpreting Greek directions is to be done with caution and this instruction could have meant we did something, somewhere between one and ten kms, but probably did mean left not right. At 5 km we found a farm track that crossed the railway line and took us on a twisting unmade road until we came quite close to a farmyard, and beyond what was surely a river bank.

At this moment a tractor appeared with a swarthy Thracian in a grubby vest looking quizzical if not threatening. But Carolina, with her enthusiastic, albeit patchy Greek, explained that we had driven from the virulent shores of Anglia and wanted to cool off in the river and maybe park Lupetto somewhere for the night, and if they didn’t let us, we would cough on them. That seemed to work and within ten minutes we were flopping in a wide sandy river accessed from a grazed water-meadow. It was idyllic. Completely different from the previous river swim but equally delicious. Waders and other waterfowl lazily moved downstream as we approached, the torpid air full of their calls and cackles. I am not up to scratch on my waterfowl but did hear one call I recognised and soon we were surrounded by a swooping, looping flock of bee-eaters. Gorgeous.

Thessaloniki is Greece’s second city; not surprising it is crowded, bustling and hot. No sign of Covid behaviour except that many of the restaurant and café staff wear masks, and these were mandatory in the museums. We didn’t tarry long, but got the bikes out and pedalled along the waterfront to the White tower with its gruesome history and visited the spacious and informative Byzantium museum, which was completely empty save for a full complement of bossy attendants, who focussing on us the same amount of attention as they would normally on 200 people, correcting our every step and gaze.

Exploring this part of Greece was a first for us but it provided an opportunity to visit the Macedonian tombs at Verghina and see the mosaics and museum at Pella just down the road.

Phillip ll, king of Macedonia, Dad to Alexander the Great, ruled Macedon between 359 and 336 BC. The tumulus at Verghina had been known about for all of antiquity and most of the tombs had been discovered, robbed and ravaged, but in 1977 Manolis Andronikos removed 60,000 cubic metres of soil to properly explore the site and discovered two unopened tombs stuffed with treasure. These are believed to the tomb of Phillip ll and someone else. The stunning museum, inside the removed hillock displays the exterior of the tombs along with the magnificent artefacts found inside, which in my view rival the Tutankhamen finds for impact and quality. This is fantastic exhibition, understated and undersold but of world ranking quality.

As in all of our museum visits, we were the only people in the place, nevertheless an officious woman insisted repeatedly we wear our masks. The Greeks are all hypochondriacs but still have an inappropriate respect for iatros. The amusing thing was that this woman wanted to get cross, but because we were English was frightened to get within 5 metres of us. She was further conflicted when Caro told her I was a doctor and, in my view, it was completely bonkers to wear masks as were alone in the museum. Grumpily she went back into her office while we ambled through the remainder of the display. The Greeks have taken to wearing masks as an equivalent of the wearing an ‘evil eye’, a talisman to ward off the evil virus. Wear it and you’re safe. We even saw a fisherman heading out to see in his caique wearing one.

Then it was the mosaics at Pella and another fab museum and onward to the long island of Evia, connected to the mainland by a bridge but accessed by us on a little ferry. On board the approach to social distancing was to tape Xs on alternate seats. A good effort but somewhat perverse as they were all empty anyway! But the unwitting recreation of the Greek flag was a charming memory.

Evia is gorgeous, unspoilt and empty and provided us a perfect beachside place to park Lupetto and grill a tough piece of Macedonian beef. Gradually the beach emptied until we were alone, 20 metres from the quietening sea. We ate as we are used to, sitting at either end of hugely long table. Pity the staff were still in Buckinghamshire.

Full moon tomorrow, and the end of our trip.