My day started off right, with that pesky piece of Kata'if'i I mentioned yesterday. The walk from Kalambaka, through Kastraki, toward the first monastery (Agios Nikolaos Anapafssas) brought me through of the some of the most beautiful country I (up to that point) had ever seen. The strange rock formations that make this area unique absolutely dominate the landscape, with forest in the foreground and even larger 'traditional' mountains in the background.
A little history - Meteora means 'of the heavens' in Greek, and the area the monasteries are in has been inhabited by monks and (mostly) hermits for nearly a millennium. When the Ottomans moved into this area, many in the monastic community decided it was time for a change of scenery, one involving less conversion to Islam and more giant pillars of stone. Twenty were originally built, seven survive (6 are open to the public, one is not). The ruins of a few of the 13 unlucky ones are still visible from the modern monasteries.
Originally, the only ways into these impressive structures would have been rickety ladders lashed together, or rope 'basket' arrangements, into which either supplies or (really brave) people could be placed and winched up, sometimes over 1000 feet. Quite an act of faith on the part of the monks being winched up, really.
I visited Agios Nikolaos Anapafssas first. On my way up the stairs I happened to meet a wonderful British woman named Katharine, who became my traveling partner for the day. Nikolaos is a fairly small monastery, and the area tourists can visit comprises the church, the gift shop, a balcony, and the semi flat top of the stone pillar the entire complex rests on. Every last inch of the church is covered in beautiful, original frescoes - the most interesting was a creation scene, showing Adam with many of the animals (prominently featured was a peacock - a symbol that keeps popping up, and that I can't figure out). The frescoes here simply must be seen to be believed. Even the wooden braces supporting the ceiling and dome of the church are intricately painted with portraits of saints and angels dominating this particular church.
The view from the balcony and the top of the stone was breathtaking. From the top you can see all of Kastraki (admittedly, you can do that from the room of any house in Kastraki), framed by a haze shrouded mountain in the distance, and the great pillars of stone to each side. Also visible just below Agio Nikolaos are the ruins of two more monasteries, one perched on top of a much shorter pillar, the other still partially clinging to the side of another.
Our hike to the second monastery, The Great Meteoro of the Transfiguration (or simply Megalou Meteora) was both strenuous and beautiful. We probably doubled our altitude relative to Nikolaos, while following a tiny path between the mighty stone pillars. Along they way we found both blackberries and fig trees, along with some strange type of birch tree that seemed only to expand outward rather than growing taller.
Megalou is the largest of the monasteries, and also the most attractive to tourists due to its easy access for buses (Nikolao required considerable stair climbing prowess, Megalou not so much). The church here contains some of most graphic representations of persecution I have ever seen, mostly Roman persecutions of early Christians. Actually, the first chamber contains these. There were probably two dozen horrible ways to die depicted on those walls, many of which I had never heard of, nor would have ever thought of, all displayed in absolutely wonderful quality frescoes. There are also some saintly relics, namely two skulls and a radius bone.
The beautifully inlaid door to the second chamber of the church is just a taste of what's inside. Here the frescoes are much more lighthearted, if Byzantine art can be considered such - these are more standard depictions of saints and the Holy Family, with some biblical scenes mixed in. In this chamber, though, it is the wood carvings and inlays that stand out. The small 'booths' to each side of the altar were inlaid with what must have been several elephants' worth of ivory. The minutest elements of the booths were painstakingly decorated, and the base wood was also intricately carved along its full surface. I didn't see a single untouched surface anywhere on either. Absolutely unbelievable attention to detail and artistic ability.
The sheer volume of tourists here completely destroyed the atmosphere, and also made it difficult to get around (it certainly was not built to accept 3 tour groups of 70 people each). We rested on the balcony overlooking the Southeast, and I snapped plenty of photos of the monasteries visible from that amazing location. Just before leaving we took a quick look into the ossuary, where the bones of monks are kept in the belief that they contain holy and mysterious powers of healing. (as explained in one of the paintings in the refectory)
After a quick lunch our hike now moved toward Roussanou, which is now a convent rather than a monastery. I will probably mistype it every time I refer to it, but it is in fact a convent.
The hike to Roussanou would have been one of the coolest things I'd ever done, had I not just come down from a monastery on top of a cliff. On our way through the rocky and narrow trail, we managed to locate the ruins of what was either another tiny monastery, or rather elaborate quarters for what must have been several hermits. The ruins were perched within easy reach, within a natural cave system. Luckily I had my flashlight in pack! There was a stone wall on the largest opening, with a doorway. Entering into this doorway I found myself in a large (for a cave) open room, the floor strewn with what must be millions of olive pits. I can't tell if these are old enough to be from previous inhabitants of the cave, but they look like they might be.
This room opened to the left into a narrow corridor, leading to a series of consecutively smaller chambers. Most had openings that had been walled in, and one even had a doorway and wall within the cave. The entire floor was still littered with olive pits.
Immediately after picking up the trail again, we finally found a fig tree laden with ripe figs. Katharine and I both stopped and took full advantage of the situation. I have never had figs that were so.. figgy. They had a very strong flavor, much more so than any fig I've tasted before. They were very sweet and quite juicy, so they certainly hit the spot.
Roussanou was a much smaller structure, comprising only a small church, gift shop, and balcony area. The church here also had beautiful frescoes, but it was the atmosphere of the place that really kept us interested. Here there were fewer tourists (due to the serious number of stairs to access it), so it was much quieter. Additionally, this was the only place where the inhabitants made themselves known. Here the nuns can be seen tending to daily functions, as well as running the gift shop. While we sat in the chapel one young nun was tending to the oil candles in front of the altar area. Another sold me a kilo of honey, two crosses, and some 'traditional pomegranate beverage', all made at the convent (I think).
Our hike back was also rather extraordinary. Rather than taking the road, we again chose the narrow paths between the great pillars. This time we were rewarded with a closer view of yet another set of hermit's quarters, this time placed in a spectacularly tall system of caves on the face of one of the pillars. Still visible are the floor supports for the upper rooms, perhaps 250 feet up. The stone walls still bear evidence of the lower floors' supports, and the cave seems to stretch back into the mountain for quite a distance (my exploration was rewarded with the deafening and unmistakable sound of bees, so I hightailed it out of there in record time). A couple of km and a few more figs later, we were back in Kastraki, where we had an amazing dinner at one of the local Tavernas.
The only negative today was my inability to walk. I managed to sprain the same ankle twice in the same day, the second nearly leading to my quitting. After a few moments to collect myself, I walked on. But I suspect I will pay for that tomorrow.
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