Pelion, Greece
The Pelion peninsula is mostly unknown to people outside of Greece. But an enticing write-up by travel writer Dana Facaros in The Times had painted such a beautiful picture of the area, we thought it was worth exploring.
“Midway between Athens and Thessaloniki, the 23-mile-long Pelion peninsula, hook-tailing into the Aegean from Mount Pelion, has the holiday essentials — ravishing beaches, turquoise waters — but also beech and oak forests, splashing waterfalls and gurgling springs. The homeland of the centaurs, it’s where the Greek gods themselves went for their summer holidays. The Pelion’s villages are among the prettiest in Greece, and many of the whitewashed, Ottoman-inspired houses have been converted into guesthouses. There are no mega-resorts; nightlife means wishing on a star.” – Dana Facaros, The Times
We had booked a small apartment up in the hills over the small village of Afissos, and met our host in the village square to follow his 4×4 up into the mountains, our little rental car whining up the hill in first gear. Every so often I felt brave and changed up into second gear, before we’d shudder to a halt, forcing me back into first. The gearbox smelt of sprouts for the rest of the trip.
Our apartment, despite being halfway up a mountain, was superb, with a panoramic view over the Bay of Volos, a little grassy terrace with an outdoor kitchen, and automated lawn sprinklers that would drench you randomly throughout the day when you least expected it.
After the usual apartment tour the owner asked if we had any questions — presumably expecting something about the wifi — when Nicola asked where we could find good fresh fish nearby. The owner looked a little confused for a second, and then, in broken English, said our best bet was “morning fish boat”, gesturing down to the little harbour below. Proper place, Greece.
The village of Afissos is pretty well-placed for exploring Pelion, and each day we headed off in our ridiculous little car to see more of the area. One morning we headed a few miles south to see the quiet whitewashed villages of Milina and Chorto for a wander and a coffee. Another day we drove over the mountains to Paralia Paltsi beach on the Adriatic coast, relaxing and dipping our toes in the turquoise waters. And that’s the fantastic thing about Pelion — there’s really very little to do other than eat and relax and soak up the beautiful surroundings.
The whole of the peninsula was so quiet, calm and gentle. We’d sit outside tiny little tavernas, the owners enthusiastically taking the time to point out things they thought we’d like to try, or proudly parading the catch of the day on a silver tray. The food in Pelion was all so fresh and seemed strongly regional. One of my favourites in Afissos was ‘spetzofai’, a dish made with sausages, peppers, onions and wine, which has apparently been made by the same family in the nearby city of Volos since the 1800s, Or so the owner of the delightful ?? ?????? restaurant told us. Could just be lies they tell tourists to get rid of the old sausages, peppers, onions and wine.
Oh, and remember the ‘morning fish boat’? Sure enough, on one of our last mornings in Pelion, we were out on our terrace when a little red fishing boat puttered into Afissos and docked at the little jetty below us. We half-ran down the hill and bought ‘one bakaliáros and two barbouni’ from the fisherman, which ended up being a hake and a couple of red mullet.
That evening, we set up our little barbecue on the terrace, watching the sunset and drinking condensation-drenched cans of Mythos. Nicola whipped up some sort of zingy bread and tomato salad with lunch leftovers, we grilled the bakaliáros and barbouni and a few spare peppers, and tucked into the most delicious makeshift fish dinner we’ve ever had. And the sprinklers didn’t go off once.
