OLD CITY OF MATERA

  We are going to Greece 'cos that's where the blue skies are. The ferry leaves tonight and we have about 200kms to go today. The Italian family persuaded us to go via Matera. Why? "because it has HISTORY" they gesticulated dramatically . The wind and the straight roads blew us there fairly quickly with the most wonderful collection of meadow flowers lining the road like a horizontal rainbow. So what is this History of Matera? It is known as Italy's shame. a place left abandoned, impoverished, diseased, and neglected until the 1950's .

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Matera

Now, there is a picturesque upper modern town walking and cycling paths, churches and cafes. There are craft shops and restaurants. We stopped briefly for a water-break and a photo session before riding through the industrial heel of the Boot to Brindisi.  

I had visited Brindisi Port in the 1960's as a 10year old en route from Trieste to Beira ( now Maputo) on a the 'SS Africa' when travel by ocean liners was in its prime. and here I was nearly 50 years later arriving by motorbike. We weave our way through narrow streets into the old town, always most interesting, bought some 'padkos' ( food for the road) and arrive at the port well ahead of time as the office only opens at 6pm. Some rider-bloke commented that our bike was a bit overloaded," "yes, we know, but the bike doesn't , yet" I joked. He didn't get it. When we arrive in Igumenitsa we have a choice to go north to Albania or South to the most southern tip of Kalamata. Looking up at the sky the choice is made: its Kalamata.  

  A GREEK BREAKFAST STOP AT SUNRISE

The 5 am landing greets us with a misty dawn which clears to a majestic vista over the bay and roads lined with oleanders and olives. Its so different to the week we have had in the industrialised southern Italian coast that we are enchanted and revitalised. By 8am we are starving for the few remains of our food and a drink of hot coffee. The sun hasn't quite warmed us through but we find a deserted beach with convenient benches and thaw out quite quickly. the little petrol stove flares up and 2 minutes later the instant coffee does the job. Its the middle of May, so too early for any holiday makers and as we find during our week in Greece we are usually the only campers.  

  On the plus side we can negotiate our camping fees, but on the downside a lot of places are closed. We ride on and on along fabulous coastroads, up and down and around. It's beautiful. The sun is warm and the scenery is delightful. We cross the bridge onto the Peloponnese before midday and 500kms later we are in Kalamata by mid afternoon. What a glorious ride. We see a tortoise on the road and wish him luck in getting to the other side, There a canyons on either side and sheep grazing on yummy thistle bushes. It's so nice here in Kalamata we give ourselves a rest day, enjoying a swim on the pebble beach and a visit to a museum, just like real tourists. The museum turns out to be a military one, not really what we had in mind, but the three soldiers are so keen to show us around we cannot be rude. The younger one is doing all the translating and after a long monologue we pick out his South African accent. He's from Johannesburg, returned to his homeland and fulfilling his nine-month compulsory conscription duties. The military museum suddenly becomes much more interesting with little interjections about SA politics thrown in and we learn a lot about Alexander the Great. He certainly made a very big impact on the middle bit of Europe here, where West meets East. And there I thought The Great Trek was the most important historical event ever!

  The first campsite we visited was closed, next one had a fierce barking dog, chained up and scary-looking place. We settled for a family run campsite with one camping car. A lovely couple from Romania. Mmmm, we hadn't thought of going there, but after a and I pleasant coffee and map-sharing session, it's on the list. We do a bit of coastal road exploring buy a cute insy-winsy witches broom to sweep out the tent.

  The map of Greece is showing up enticing names like Sparta and Korinthos and Athens. We want to see them all. We type in a mountain route to Sparta. It's enthralling and wonderous and pretty damn terrifying. No barriers, some broken walls where the turns were too sharp for some, and I think B and the bike are feeling the load.

  It's baking hot when we get to Sparta, so with waning enthusiasm I plod up a hill to view a 'dig-site'. More Oleanders an Olives along the way to provide a bit of shade. It's a strange coincidence that at the same time our niece (living and working in Japan) has just completed a gruelling Spartan Run there in a team event with her boyfriend and others. The legacy of the Spartans lives on all around the world. The mountain passes to Sparta and Korinthos have taken the edge of the back brake discs, so the hunt is on for a BMW dealership. Postcodes and highways get all muddled up and we always seem to be on the wrong side of the road, eventually stopping to ask at a chemist where the address is. We are a bit surprised to find that English is not spoken very much, and also that we have the wrong postcode. however at BMW Motorrad, the English and service is impeccable. Coffee, iced water, brake discs fitted and once again we are on our way.

  Athens is packed. we sort of ride/walk with a bike between our legs, to get anywhere, scooters zig-zagging everywhere, even coming towards us in the opposite direction on our side of the road. Bangkok is a breeze after this. We ride nearly all the way to the Acropolis, then give up. Too many buses, taxis, scooters, people. Interestingly there is a report and a protest in Venice and Madrid the same week about the destructive actions that mass tourism is creating on the environment, local housing, local markets and infrastructure. We too feel the squeeze-out effect from the organised group tours. No wonder the locals get mad.

  It's a stressful ride through and out of Athens, then up the highway as quick as we can. Those menacing dark clouds are over us again. We had stop under a toll bridge to escape a passing hailstorm, and having kept our rainsuits on are indulging in a self-made sauna.

A conveniently placed garage sheltered us later for another hour while we eat a picnic roll and fill up with petrol slowly to waste some time. Its day 16 and our petrol costs have added up to 200 euros for a total of 3500kms, that's about 5p/km. I'm sure that there is a fancy miles/gallon equation in there somewhere, but this is a chick doing the sums here. By the time we get home, even though we don't know it yet we would have done 15,000 kms ( costing a total of just under 750 euros. )

Lunch is interesting. It's all Greek to me. So we point to the dishes on display and treat ourselves to something other than another picnic ham roll. The rain comes and goes and then comes again. It's 7pm, we're getting cold and we're tired. All the campsites in the towns are closed so we head out for the beach areas. At last we spot a sign and a red and white stripped boom-type barrier. We call, we shout, we knock on the reception door. Nothing. No response. We try the boom and it lifts up easily. This 'resort' is laid out in a grid pattern with each site occupied by a campervan/caravan arrangement and side patio, under a sun shade canopy. We call again. There's definitely no-one around. (Maybe not even been around since 2008) .We take a chance and pitch our tent on somebody's lovely patio under cover, just as the rain comes down. Whew. By 11pm we are fast asleep, cosy and warm. Half an hour later, in perfect English we hear a deep roar "Come out, Come out" accompanied by a bright light piercing through the tent. "OK, one minute" I call out in my sweetest most feeble female voice. He can see the bike and two helmets and waits patiently while we faff around inside putting on some clothes. Stumbling out we apologise profusely for entering his unguarded campsite, explaining we were desperate to get out of the storm. He then realises the night reception/watchman had not been at his post and is going to be in a lot of trouble in the morning. We come to an arrangement with him now apologising to us and we are welcome to stay on another site, as this one is private and the owners might arrive early next morning, being the start of the weekend. We move the bike and drag the tent, fully laden with bedding and gear to the other end of the road. An hour later we are back cosy and warm with an invitation to join the manager for morning coffee. It's Day 18, and after a delicious coffee and and a 5 euro campsite fee at 'Salty Beach' we take a mountain road and then a toll to get to 'Scala Beach' . The Greeks here are very handsome in an ancient classical way, with big black beards, short curly black hair and deep voices. must be something to do with Alexander the Great. We spot a sign for a place called Drama, 39kms away. No thank you, we've had enough of that. Toll roads are a bit boring for a pillion, so I amuse myself by trying to decode the Greek alphabet. School science lessons help me recall Alpha, Beta and Delta along with Pi and Theta. It doesn't take long to work most of it out. We notice a bit of a time-warp where the modern civilisation is along the coast side of the road and the pastoral corrugated iron circular 'kraals' line the rocky inland landscape. Sheep and goats abound, guided by herders, and the storks and cranes are making their appearance for the summer visits. Mount Olympus has disappeared under rain clouds and we stop in an open campsite where the very kind grandpa owner escorts us under his umbrella to a caravan pitch with an awning under which to pitch our tent. This rain is a huge pain! we don't mind wet riding but wet camping is not nice. We consult the Radar on the weather map. Go east. That's the way to go. Istanbul tomorrow! but first the sound of Alexandropoulis catches our attention. The municipal campsite is tatty and expensive. There's a hotel with a 'tent' sign displayed under its name. kindly rent us a piece of lawn for cash complete with washing line for our wet clothes. Perfect way to end the day

A curious occurence attracted our attention as we stared gazing out to sea, marvelling at the adventures we are having. Something very bright was zipping along the in the dark in a extremely fast vertical and horizontal manouvre. Not a plane. It sped up, then across, then down , then along like a mad giant glow worm. My Superzoom camera captured an image, but we still don't know what it is. Alexandropoulis has a dog problem. There was a pack of 21 on the beach front, guarding their patch from evening strollers, joggers and dogwalkers. Lovely big farm dogs, abandoned and managing to survive in a newly created pack. Shame.

  We buy a new back tyre and wander around the buzzing cafe-society of 'bankrupt' Greece whilst it gets fitted. Our tight budget prevents us from joining in and makes us wonder where our EU payments are going? This journey is partly to discover Europe and partly to understand the EU. We still don't.

  We're packed, dried out and ready to go to Turkey. It's only 50kms away. Should be in Istanbul for morning coffee. See you there.