Whatchawearing
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Europeanvaction1979/day7
My father was in the USAF. We spent nearly nine years in Europe. We lived in Greece, Italy and England. Every few years my Grandparents would come to visit. When they did, we were off for a five week journey across Europe. My grandmother kept a journal of our travels. Recently while cleaning out a closet, my Mother came across the journals. The memories came flying back! I decided to share these journels with you. Each day I will post a chapter as she has written them. I hope you enjoy reading these as much as I did.
The first Journal was in 1979. We lived in Hellenikon Greece.
Corinth Canal
Ancient Corinth
Ancient Corinth Fortress
Egnatia Car Ferry
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Day 7-Friday April 1 1979
Chaos reigned as the seven of us put finishing touches on jamming last minute things into already stuffed boxes. George lost his traveler's checks, Craig misplaced his camera, and everyone of us thought he knew more about how to load the van than anyone else. The camera was located, but the checks remained lost for days not showing up until we were in Naples. We got away at ten-thirty that morning after saying goodbye to Ralph and Suey who were being left in the care of upstairs American neighbors.
Grape vineyards were in abundance near Corinth. This industry is old, as is the making of honey, and the Greek landscape was dotted with little blue or white hives for the bees. Tiny whitewashed shrines along the highway caught our attention; many of these were donated by grateful mariners after their safe return from an ocean voyage.
Sometime after noon we suddenly were crossing the Corinth Canal. Walking across he foot bridge, I was totally unprepared for the height and the beautiful blue-green of the water so far below. The two steep twin rock banks are not without solemnity. Cutting across the end of the Isthmus of Corinth, the canal divides the Peloponnesus and provides direct communication between the Ionian and Aegean Sea. Spanning this man-made chasm is a bridge for trains and a second, the one we were on, for buses, cars and pedestrians.
Al found a lovely spot up the side of a mountain where we ate a picnic lunch. The entire city of Corinth, located near one entrance to the canal, lay sprawled below us. A small amount of history ran through my mind as I sat munching a ham sandwich. Here was where a Christian community sprung up under St. Paul and here he addressed two epistles.
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Shortly after crossing the canal, the remains of Ancient Corinth loomed into sight. Once a great power, its strategic location assured control of the main commercial line between the Peloponnesus and the rest of Greece.
Perched high atop the mountain, we could see the fortress as we began the ride up the winding, sharp-curved road. The narrow road resembled the world's grandest roller coaster, with spiraling mountain peaks above and deep green valleys far below. Halfway up we came upon the ruins of Apollo's temple with its seven stocky Doric columns built in the sixth century B.C. The fortress, with its predominantly Venetian walls, frowned down.
We climbed up to the first gate of the fortress, but George decided not to go any further. The walking path was rocky and steep, and he was afraid of twisting his ankle again. I made it as far as the second and third gate before I gave up. The stiff climb that far made it worth the effort, for the view was beautiful. Jan, Al and the boys ignored the terrific heat and succeeded in gaining the uppermost part of the ruins.
The cool orange juice at the shady outdoor cafe at the base of the fortress was very welcome. Here we sat listening to the chatter of a group of young German students who had made the climb and were relishing a brief rest. Soon it was time to push on as we had more miles to cover if we were to reach Patras in time to catch the boat for Italy.
The coast road from Ancient Corinth to Patras provided us with many interesting sights, not the least of which was the wide highway following close to the Gulf of Corinth on one side while sharp mountains rose on the other side. Bands of gypsies camped in open fields, their campers and tents grouped helper-skelter while washed clothes hung on fences lining the road. A nude gypsy man standing in front of a tent was spotted by
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George, a sight the rest of us thankfully missed. Beautiful villas with their red tiled roofs glistening in the bright sun adorned the mountain sides.
Squeezed between the Gulf of Corinth and the cliff behind it, Patras was a pleasant city with modern architecture. A walled fortress crowned the cliff, a reminder of the Frankish overlords who seized the port in 1204 and the Venetians who held it later.
The port was a beehive of activity. Large vessels moored at the wharf were being loaded or unloaded and in the shore-side carafes, across the street, waiters were putting down tables and washing the pavements, preparing for their evening customers.
Opposite from where the Egnatia was docked, we found a cafe to our liking discovering however, that the menu was "all Greek to us". Undaunted, our waiter (using the usual sign language) ushered us inside to the kitchen where we pointed to food we wanted. I picked a spinach and cheese dish which turned out to be served ice cold instead of bubbly and hot as I had anticipated. The rest of the group ate souvlaki, a Greek shish kebab with skewered lamb roasted over charcoal.
We lined up behind twenty or so vehicles awaiting our turn to board the ship. Leaving us in the car, Al took our tickets, passports and necessary VW papers to the ticket office. We moved slowly forward as each car passed through customs while Al was still in the office. The custom officer asked us to pull to one side as our papers were not in order and there was some mix-up. Car after car passed through while we waited and waited and waited. Finally, at nine-twenty we were allowed to board after visions of missing the ten o'clock sailing danced through our minds. It was then Al explained that the delay was caused because the VW had not been marked on his passport as having been shipped over from America and the Greek
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officials questioned its country of purchase.
The gaping black hole of the Egnatia opened before us as we drove over the ramp into the bowels of the ship. The VW parked, we began the trek to the upper cabin decks looking for all the world like we were going on safari for a year. Packed especially for the cruise was our "ferry box." It contained food, dishes and utensils to last throughout the eighteen hour voyage as we had been forewarned about expensive meals on board. Cameras and tote bags were slung over our shoulders. Cosmetic cases and Greek Samsonite (Jan's name for plastic shopping bags) held our towels, swim suits and other needed articles. Sean toted the water jug and Ryan managed the scrabble game while Al and Craig carried the ice chest packed with ice, milk and soft drinks.
Up narrow steps, through tiny passages we followed the steward to our cabins. Although no luxury liner, our accommodations were adequate consisting of a room not much larger closet which contained upper and lower bunks on each wall and one drop leaf table situated under the room's only redeeming feature, a large picture window.
We sailed out of Patras exactly at ten. It was clear and calm. A million pinpoints of light glittered in the darkness transforming the city into electric lace. It was a lovely night for a voyage through the Ionian Sea.
