We wandered the seafront promenade and climbed the winding lanes to find the town church and village school tucked among the hills. Over coffee at a waterfront café, we admired the castle across the water. Lunch was a Greek staple: gyros—tender shaved chicken in warm pita with tzatziki, tomato, onion, and french fries. Sparkling water on the side. Simple, satisfying, and under $12 for two.
We continued our journey along the coast road, the landscape shifting between rocky headlands and olive groves, before stopping for the night in Nafpaktos—a lively town considerably larger than I expected, with a sheltered Venetian harbor, a long beach where locals walked their dogs at dusk, and a beautifully preserved old quarter. Our hotel, the Castellmare (prices for a double room are about $55), sat close to the harbor with views of the dramatic Rio-Antirrio Bridge in the distance.
Delphi: The Navel of the Ancient World
The road to Delphi climbs steeply through mountain villages and fragrant scrubland—the same low, silvery shrubs used to make Greece's famous mountain tea. We couldn't resist clipping a few sprigs to dry and bring home.
By luck, we arrived on the first Sunday of March—the one day each month when all Greek state archaeological sites and museums are free.
Delphi was busy, not with foreign tourists, but with Greek families and school groups making the most of the occasion. We spent half the day there, and it still wasn't enough.
The museum alone is extraordinary—large marble statues, carved friezes, and delicate bronzes recovered from the site. But it is the archaeological ruins themselves, spread across a steep hillside with Mount Parnassus looming behind them, that leave a lasting impression.
You work your way up from the Treasury of the Athenians—its Doric columns still largely intact—to the Temple of Apollo, where the Oracle of Delphi once held court.
At this exact location, leaders and military officials from all over the ancient Mediterranean gathered to receive prophecies from the Oracle, Pythia, on matters of conflict, unions, and the establishment of cities. Pythia sang her cryptic messages, and these often needed interpretation by the temple priests.
Standing among the column stumps in the warm spring sunshine, wildflowers blooming in the cracks between ancient stones, it was not difficult to feel the weight of the place.
A large Greek shepherd dog—white with black markings, utterly unbothered by visitors, slept in the shade right in the middle of the temple of Apollo and showed no intention of moving. The Delphi cats, meanwhile, were being fed dry food near the museum entrance and accepting affection with the regal disinterest particular to Greek cats.
That evening, we had dinner at a small taverna in the traditional village of Chrissos—a restaurant that might have been someone's home at one time, its walls were decorated with goat hides, boiled wool shepherd's capes, old walking crooks, and family photographs of moustachioed men in traditional Greek dress.
We ordered baked feta with tomatoes and peppers, warm bread, tzatziki, and lamb souvlaki, sharing them with a glass of wine as the sun dropped behind the distant snow-capped peaks. It was one of those unforgettable meals, rich with flavors and warmth, and scenery that forever etches itself into a fond memory.
Lunch for $30
The drive toward Corinth brought its own highlight—a roadside stop at what Alison diplomatically called "a greasy spoon." The décor was basic, but the place was full of locals, which is always a good sign.
We ordered 300 grams of roast lamb and a plate of horta—steamed wild greens dressed with olive oil and lemon—and when the food arrived, we both took a bite, looked at each other, and smiled. The lamb was fall-off-the-bone tender, deeply flavorful, and unlike anything we'd eaten on the trip so far. With bread, horta, a beer, bottled water and a tip, the bill came to $28 for two.
We ended our travels in the Athens suburbs, where Alison returned her leased car, and we caught the metro to the airport—arriving home on Corfu that evening, tired, full, and very glad to have explored new horizons.
Greece, even in the off-season, rewards the wanderer with extraordinary generosity: ancient history around every bend, honest food at honest prices, and a coastline that makes you want to keep driving just to see what comes around the next bend.
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