It’s all Greek to me (and that’s mostly a good thing)

Your correspondent again feigns consciousness as the rising sun peeks through the Parthenon’s columns during a dawn tour of the Acropolis. Go early to see this monument to antiquity in golden light with smaller crowds.

MY GRECIAN DAYS ARE PASSING LIKE A SCIROCCO from the North African deserts.

Happily, those dust storms aren’t happening during my visit to the cradle of civilization. I’ve had day after day of warm and sunny October skies.

I’ve kept moving and kept busy, from a pre-dawn wander through the rabbit-warren streets of Athens to find the meeting point for my fabulous sunrise tour of the Acropolis; to my challenging cross-country bus ride to Kalamata (the language isn’t easy for me); to calming and restorative days in the scenic little villages of the Peloponnese where my hosts of the last few days, American expats Jackie and Joel Smith, have made their full-time home for six years. (Kirkland, Washington, was their last port of call.)

Jackie, a longtime friend and a colleague in the newspaper business, from Yakima to Seattle, has agreed that our lives, mine on isolated Center Island, and theirs in a fairly remote corner of what’s known as The Continent, bear similarities. We both have little challenges in shopping and dealing with the modern “supply chain,” in staying in touch with family and old friends, in making home repairs when needed, and so on.

But we both have the tradeoff of living in our own little slices of paradise, and nurturing friendships made there.

Jackie and Joel Smith and the view from their front door. Nearest village: Agios Dimitrios, an hour’s drive south of Kalamata.

Since arriving at their charming Stone House on the Hill, looking downhill to the blue Mediterranean and across to high, rolling hills, I’ve enjoyed a rich sampling of the spectacular scenery, the warm village social life, the great food, more of the great food, and, oh, have I mentioned the great food?

My first day, we ended with a sunset dinner on their village waterfront, dining on Fava beans, spinach with black-eyed peas, fried zucchini balls and fresh calamari that was delicately imbued with the best flavors of the sea. Went to sleep with windows open, listening to the distant howling of jackals on the hillside. (There are jackals!)

On a driving tour, we lunched in Gerolimenas, with this view, including a traditional-style, double-ender Greek fishing boat. Sad trivia: The European Union is paying fishermen to destroy such vessels, to help preserve the fishery.

Since then, we’ve taken day trips on winding, narrow roads to see more of their beautiful Mani district, poking our noses into little roadside Byzantine-style chapels. I’ve taken a brisk morning hike with one of their American expat neighbors, a new friend named Chuck. Gone swimming with Chuck and his sweetheart, a firecracker of an Englishwoman named Boris (that’s her last name, and preferred moniker; first name: Caroline). And we’ve dined at different little waterfront cafes night after night, sometimes joined by passing friends, always doted on by familiar restaurateurs whom Jackie and Joel greet with a jovial “Kalispéra!” (“Good evening!”).

My new hiking friend, Chuck Bartlett, on an old donkey path we followed. This was the former “highway” between villages of the Peloponnese. Olive groves are seen below.

Jackie and Joel have carved out a comfortable and engaging expat life here, and I’ve felt privileged to share a few days of it. (Follow Jackie’s blog about their life and travels.)

On tomorrow to the isle of Rhodes for this wandering one’s last taste of Greek civilization (for this trip, anyway). On my own again, trying to remember how travel works (you get rusty!); savoring the good things, and trying to let headaches pass like a breeze off the sea.

Keep your passports valid. I’ll write again soon.