Picture a slope punctuated with olive trees. The sun is shining and in the distance, the bay is sparkling. Its depths swallow the sky above and exhale an incredible myriad of blues. Further in the distance, the hills and mountains of Greece present themselves in misty layers, like some sort of collage.
Alexa and I have found ourselves in just such a place and it will be very hard to leave.
Let me explain what this place is. In short, it's a small olive farm on the hills above the town of Kala Nera, on the Pelion penninsula, which is a few hours' drive north of Athens. In exchange for free room and board, we work on the farm for about 6 hours. There's an international organization known as WWOOF (World-Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms) where farmers can create a listing describing their farm and workers can search for work.
This particular farm is run by a Swiss man named Olivier who, much like his land, is small but mighty. Under his care are 140 olive trees (we counted), a handful of fig trees, two large vegetable gardens, various wild herbs like mint and thyme and oregano, and an impressive array of bees, lizards, and insects. Though to say he actually takes care of that all isn't quite right - along the slopes and paths between the trees and the gardens, the land takes care of itself. Grass, clover, fennel, dandelion, thyme, oregano, plantain, thistle, and sorrel and a hundred other plants I don't know the names of grow alongside one another, filling the place with life.
To some degree, this must be his choice. We have seen farms in the area that have been clear-cut and others whose use of chemical inputs have left the soil barren. But it is hard to know if all this growth is simply from being left alone, or if Olivier cleared them all away last year and the plants have simply been able to grow back in the span of a season. Whatever the case may be, nature is having its way with this place and Olivier doesn't seem to mind too much.
The tasks we're given each day vary quite a bit and it's clear there's a nearly infinite number of things to do in a place like this. A few days were spent weeding various flower beds and a vegetable garden. For another couple of days, we cut grass and gathered the clippings to spread across the vegetable garden's soil to protect it from the sun. We've also turned compost, fed fertilizer to the olive trees, collected branches from the trimmings of the olive trees and turned them into woodchips, and beautified a garden path with a thick layer of olive leaves. In practice, it's a lot of lifting and pulling and digging and trodding up and down steep banks. We've only been here a little over a week, but already I feel my hands and arms and back are getting stronger. I can see why Olivier, at 66, seems like so much younger of a man.
Friends of the Kalderimi
When reading reviews of Olivier's farm, Alexa came across one previous WWOOFer who mentioned that she had taken regular walks from the farm to a nearby mountain village called Milies. We're somewhat avid hikers and this seemed like an exciting way to spend an afternoon or two, so we asked Olivier about how to get there. He vaguely described going down the road, then following a sign, then following a path that at times becomes overgrown and hard to follow, "but anyway you should find the way."
With these vague directions, we began our trek. It was supposed to be about 5 kilometers each way, so our expectation was that it shouldn't be too long of a hike. Thus we made our first mistake: thinking we would make it to the town easily enough, we decided there was no real need to bring water.
Perhaps this would have been fine, but along the way we picked up a dog. A neighbor of Olivier's runs a goat farm and as part of that operation, he has several extremely friendly dogs. One dog, whose name we would later learn was Vlakha, decided that we should all be hiking buddies together. At the time we didn't know her name, but we were hoping she would show us the way to Milies (she wouldn't), so we named her Millie.
Millie would run ahead, explore down some paths, jump in a passing stream, and generally be her best doggy self. It was wonderful and made me wish we had a dog of our own. It didn't take long for the first problem to arise, though. Millie was clearly quite thirsty, but we had no water to give her. Eventually, we came to a horse-riding business and got someone there to provide us with some water that we could give to Millie. Unfortunately, along the way we ran into another problem; Millie had a strong tendency to chase after cars. This might not have been a problem if we had a leash, but again, this was not our dog. Faced with a busy main road and a dog that might get itself killed at any point, we decided to turn around and not visit Milies. It was just going to be too stressful.
On the way, though, we discovered that we'd been traveling on a network of trails known as the Kalderimi that goes back hundreds of years. In the past, before roads came to the area, these paths connected villages to one another. Nowadays, of course, there are more efficient ways to get around and so the paths have fallen into disuse. An organization called the Friends of the Kalderimi finds, opens, and maintains these paths so that residents and visitors can make good use of them. According to their website, they've found and re-opened over 150 km of paths. That's a lot of hiking!
On a side note: we were just yesterday finally able to get to Milies without any of the dogs following us the whole way. It's a really cool little town with many homes and other structures built right into the side of Mt Pelion. We didn't explore it in too much depth, but it feels like a really nice place to spend a vacation.
The Mode of Goodness
Before buying this farm, Olivier spent a long time in India and Switzerland running self-sufficient communities of various scales. He mentioned that one community in southern Switzerland had as many as 600 people and that, except for salt and sugar, they were completely self-sufficient. This is, it seems, the reason he knows how to farm.
Olive trees are new to him, though. He and his partner only acquired this place 3 or 4 years ago. But he's figuring it out and, if the olive oil I've tasted is any indication, he's doing it right. When there is something he's unsure of, he has plenty of neighbors to ask for advice. In fact, it seems like he's become quite friendly with many of them. His goatherd neighbor, for example, came by several times just in the last week to say hello. Another neighbor of his raises bees and sold Olivier a couple boxes so he could try rearing bees on his land.
But Olivier's time in self-sufficient communities was about far more than just farming and it is clear that a lot of the philosophy and spirituality he gathered from those times in his life are still very present and relevant to him. Nearly every night, as we sit around the dinner table and chat, he begins to discuss the various esoteric beliefs and systems that form the foundation of his life. I don't know if he would agree that this is a good description of it, but my impression is that he follows a sort of mystical Hinduism that emphasizes the individual's abilities to read and understand the foundational texts of Hinduism - the Vedas. It's led to some very interesting conversations on human nature, karma, reincarnation, and all sorts of other spiritual topics. As a non-spiritual person, this can at times be quite challenging. But there is a lot of very interesting psychology and ways of framing reality behind what he says and I've found that I get valuable insights from our rambling conversations.
In particular, he seems to be very fond of the idea that people are always acting in the "mode" of Goodness, Ignorance, or Passion. My initial reaction was that this feels a little overly simplified. Surely, one could be acting in other modes. Sadness, for example. But I get that this is beside the point. The reductive nature of it is helpful because it provides a useful mechanism to analyze and adjust your own behavior. At any given moment, it is easy to introspect and ask yourself, "am I in the Mode of Goodness?"
I have to admit that my first impulse was to dismiss the whole thing out of hand, but the extent to which he is able to stay in the Mode of Goodness (as he views it) makes me regret my initial skepticism. Olivier is a generous, open-minded, energetic man with more youthful energy at the age of 66 than I have probably ever had. Moreover, he welcomes perfect strangers into his house, feeds them incredible meals, and spends hours chatting with them and playing at being a tour guide. If his opinions on the soul lead him to such wonderful openness and joy, who am I to attempt to shut him down?
And after tomorrow, we may never talk again. We will be strangers once more. What an odd feeling.
Beaches of the Pelion Peninsula
I would be shirking my duties as Your Travel Blogger if I didn't spend a few words on waters surrounding this beautiful place. You've heard about the beaches of Greece and how incredible they area, no doubt. Well, look no further than the Pelion because the beaches here are spectacular.
Two days ago, we drove down the hill after work to a spot that Olivier knew of. He had a couple of inflatable stand-up paddle boards and a couple of beach umbrellas, so we packed those into the back of his car along with some snacks and books and got on our way. When we arrived, it was nearly deserted and for the time we were there (which was nearly until sunset), it stayed that way. As seems to be common across Greece, it was the sort of beach that is a little stony and a little sandy, but easy to lie upon.
We set up our umbrellas and began to inflate our stand-up paddle-boards, which takes quite a while and can be exhausting by the time you're done. As such, we took turns at the task. I filled one up about halfway, then Alexa took over. Olivier, with an impish grin on his face, approached me with a challenge. We would each select six stones and, taking turns, see who could get the most skips. The loser would have to take the next turn at inflating the paddle-board. It was a close battle and we were neck and neck most of the way. I skipped a stone with three jumps, then he did the same. With my third stone, I felt sure I would cinch the victory as my stone managed a solid six jumps. But then he matched my throw with a six-jump throw of his own! In the end, I squeaked out a win with a difference of a single jump. Triumphant, I turned to Alexa with the good news but as it happened, she had already finished inflating the board.
Two days earlier, we'd gone to another beach on the opposite side of the peninsula for an earlier attempt at stand-up paddle-boarding, but the waves had been a bit too intimidating to Alexa and I. This time, we would not wimp out. Because we only had two paddle-boards and there were three of us, we would either have to take turns or share. Sharing seemed more fun, so Alexa got onto the middle of the board and I sat down near the back. Alexa paddled us out a bit, then rose to her feet. I tried to stabilize the board as best I could from my position and, I think to a bit of both of our surprise, it worked! We both felt a little unsteady though, so most of the time we both stayed sitting while we shared the board. Maybe it was because there were two of us, or maybe it was because the board was lighter than we were used to, but it did feel harder we'd experienced before.
Later, when Olivier had returned and was reading on the beach, I took his board out a little ways, then laid down and closed my eyes. The waves were small, but steady, and I could feel them travel along the length of the board as the sun rolled across me in bursts of warmth. Slowly, surely, I sank into that moment. I wanted to absorb every bit of it, to be able to remember the feeling of my salt-kissed skin drying in the sun and the sound of the lazy waves.
I think, maybe, this is the kind of thing I'm traveling for.