Red Wine in the Mani

 

Writing about the amount of wine in  my glass  the other day 

reminded me of a fancy hotel we stayed at once in the Mani. I won a holiday, three nights at the hotel, with local breakfast, fried bread twists. Oh boy.  It was a competition on tv and its the first time I won something big .

 I had always wanted to go down to the Mani. It is a peninsular in Southern Greece, mountainous, a dry barren landscape, wild and beautiful.  The villages are characterised by their tower-houses where they holed up in times of feud or warfare.   

Our hotel was built out of the local stone with thick walls and a view of the rocky bay below .  It looked impressive but it wasn't.  The hairdryer caught fire when I used it.  There were only 2 bent wire hangers in the cupboard.  No curtains on the doors or windows and we were on the ground floor with people walking past.  There were shutters but in summer you need a light curtain to have privacy but also let in the breeze.  The inner walls must have been made out of paste board.  We heard every loo flush and every footstep outside in the hall.   The breakfasts were vast with lots of local produce but the one meal we had there, and paid for, was disappointing.  

Me, about twelve years ago 

Mani is a long way from Poros. We had been driving hours in the hot September sun . So when we checked in I wandered out onto the hotel terrace for a glass of wine. The glass was big and fancy but the red wine was barely visible above its long elegant stem. And it was warm. Warmer than room temperature. Can't remember the price but I do remember the wine. We went out to a grocery and bought a bottle and put it in the fridge in the room .  Cheap and cold and enjoyed on our balcony with a view of the hills opposite.

Nowadays I would have sent it back and complained, about the temperature anyway.  And I would have filled it up with ice.   Summer drinks need to be cold, icy.

View from the hotel

Oitylo Bay

The Hotel

K looking happy.  He must have just consumed a cold beer.  He didn't want to visit Mani and grumbled a lot .

Mani is a long peninsular and we only visited the top of it.  One day I would love to go back and see the rest, further south.  We were only in Outer Mani. 

Added to that his football team Olympiakos was playing an important game and we couldn't find a cafe with a TV so he could watch the match.  He was seething.  For a long time

A taverna down the road where we holed up on the last day, eating and drinking under the shade of it's spreading plane trees.  K liked the wine and the food thank goodness but there weren't many locals to talk too.  Wine and food without debate, discussion and dissent is not his idea of a good time

In the old town of Areopoli.  He found a traditional cafe which made him happy for a while and then he discovered a butcher's shop which sold the local salted pork.  A slightly happier man.

The villages in Inner Mani were built for protection from vendettas with neighbours, pirates and tyrants .  The Maniots were fearless, strong, long independent from the rest of Greece.    Even the Turks couldn't control them during the 400 years of Ottoman occupation. 

One day I shall return.  On my own.  I will explore ruined villages, clamber around old fortresses, eat wild honey from local hives, sample the sea salt still gathered from the rocky coast, walk to the gates of Hades at Cape Tenaro and sleep in one of those tower houses.