(written 15:09, 9/5/2006 in Spisské Podhradie, Slovakia)
Packing up our campsite, we set of and continued south along the coast, inland for a while and then further south to Kalamáta. Despite being the namesake of our favourite type of olive, it was ugly, big and had little going for it, so we kept moving.
At the bottom of mainland Greece there are three spikes of sorts, the central one of which is called the Mani Peninsula - our destination for the night.
We spent the day winding down along the western side of the peninsula, home to an amazing array of wildflowers just coming into bloom at this time of year. Five main different types all but completely covered the landscape, and made the otherwise barren surroundings look bursting with life.
There were lots of little villiages all along the road, each so small it didn't have a full set of shops. Eventually after a while, we worked out how the locals got around this - they loaded up their utes with whatever they had to sell, strapped a loudspeaker to the top, and drove along advertising their wares!
We stopped in Kardamíli for lunch, where the main street was totally ripped out and we had to divert right along the blue waters at the little harbour, but ended up parked outside a little café where the owner was rather interested in a couple of youngish Aussies turning up for some juice and a sandwich.
In the heat we pushed further south, along tiny winding empty roads where tour busses would just fit, but they hadn't quite been dusted off for the year yet, or so it seemed.
Areópoli was on the way, which we had a look through for a while, but decided against hanging around in. Right at the bottom of the peninsula, well past where tour buses could fit even if they wanted too, we found the delightful little town Geroliménas. A tiny little harbour with a beach, cafés right on the edge and the ability to park right there, this place was absolutely perfect. Across the road we spotted some rooms just behind us that would perfect but no doubt over-priced for the amazing views they would have. Still, I went to talk to the person with the keys, a little man in the pub next door. The price he was asking almost made me drop my jaw - I had expected easily twice as much! We checked out the rooms, and sure enough had a top-floor one with views across the town and sea beyond for half what we had payed in most places, and a quarter what we had in some.
We moved our meagre belongings up to the room, and then looked out over the clear blue water, relaxing reading books, papers, and having a beer or two.
Eventually it got a bit windy sitting right on the water, so we set off for a walk around through the town. There wasn't really much to speak of - just a few restaurants and an amazing number of empty derelict houses. If this was most other places on earth, this real estate would be worth millions. In our wanders, a dog adopted us, one of the many stray in the town. Our thoughts to bring her home were stopped in their tracks by the pile of paperwork we would face and just how unhappy Alina (our dog) would be.
Back to the room for a while, we did some washing before heading out for dinner to a harbourside restaurant. Here we had lots of mezedes (entree-sized portions of different things), which proved very filling.
As we left the restaurant, our puppy was waiting for us. She got some crackers and bread from our food bag before we headed up to the room. I needed a couple of things from the car a little later on, and Liz volunteered to go get them, only to drop a bit more food for the dog on the way through. We're too soft!