Day 1
Susan and I had planned to spend Pesach in Australia. But as the old Yiddish saying goes, man plans and God laughs. In this case it was man plans and Bibi, Trump and the Ayatollahs laugh. So we didn’t get to Australia for Pesach, but three weeks later, which in of itself is not the end of the world, except it meant we arrived back to Israel from Australia, slept in our bed at home for three nights, then shlepped down to the airport again to fly off to our short holiday in Greece. Of course, I’m not complaining, but I’m also not blind to the absurdity of it.
I want it to be clearly understood: Early flights are a pain in the arse. Leaving home at 3 a.m. is just not legal. But I guess at least we arrived in Thessaloniki early so we could exploit the day.
Europe is starting to launch e-entry with biometric passports, so for the moment, you need to have your photo taken and fingerprints registered upon entry into Schengen Area countries. It didn’t work in Italy when we were there in February, and the Greek Immigration officers treated the new system with open disdain, barely even triying to cope with the new entry requirements. But it did cause very long lines. However, Susan walks with walking sticks to help with balance and confidence and as soon as the authorities anywhere in the world see someone with walking sticks, it’s automatically “go to the front of the line”. In all honesty, Susan is able to stand in line for 45 minutes, but if you get an offer to cut the wait to only five minutes, well, it’s an offer too good to refuse.
By 10.30 we were in downtown Thessaloniki, wandering the streets, taking in the relaxed Greek vibe and looking for somewhere to eat after our early morning, no-food-on-budget-airlines flight. Garry had chosen the coolest, funkiest café-restaurant in all of Thessaloniki, the Caravan Café. It’s one of those places where no two tables are of the same design, height or material. Likewise the plates and cutlery were all different from each other. Op-shop chic that the designer obviously thought was unique and cool but is not so dissimilar to lots of other op-shop chic gen z cafes around the world. But cynicism aside, it actually was quite cool. Unfortunately, what sort of works in restaurant design doesn’t always translate into the food. Weird combinations were just that. Weird combinations. Thankfully for us old farts, this turned out to be the only non-traditional meal of the trip.
It is time for my first diversion. Yoni and I do 90% of the planning for our trips and I like to think that we do a pretty good job of organizing great adventures. About 8 months ago Garry suggested we travel to Thessaloniki and the Chalkidiki peninsula with the wives. We instantly agreed and immediately made it clear that we thought that for once he should plan this trip. He begrudgingly consented, but as is his right as tour boss, he changed the rules. Not the usual benevolent dictatorship where the planners’ word is final. He simply farmed out the work, assigning each of us one day to plan. His wife, Kim, booked the accommodation and he had me book the car. So in the end, he planned only the first half day and the final afternoon in Thesaloniki. I guess a change in style can be refreshing.
But I digress. Our first stop was the Monastir Synagogue. It is the only synagogue in Thessaloniki to survive the holocaust. The other 70 synagogues that existed before the war were destroyed as was the 50,000 member Jewish community. The synagogue itself is restored and well kept, but it is a sad reminder of how an entire community persihed. From there we walked to the Jewish museum of Thessaloniki, which is one of the best Jewish museums that I have been to. It chronicles the community’s 2,200 year history, its contribution to the city and its destruction in 1940. It is a must see for any visitor to the city. When I return to this region again, I will definitely take a guided tour of Jewish Thessaloniki as there is so much more to see.
But our time was limited and we had a two hour journey to the village of Ouranoupoli on the Chalkidiki peninsula. I had heard that this is a beautiful area and the drive gave us our first opportunity to take in the stunning views. In late spring, the wildflowers were still in full bloom, so the roadside was painted with red, yellow, white, purple and pink splashes. The countryside was a mixture of olive groves and natural forests overlooking the sea on both sides and distant mountains. The area’s highest peak, the holy Mount Athos was constantly ahead of us. We quickly understood why people swoon so much over the three fingered Chalkidiki peninsula and the Aegean Sea.
We arrived to our accommodation, Archodiko Toliadi, in Ouranoupoli, which is a very nice boutique mini-hotel run by Efrossini in her family’s traditional home that has been converted to a hotel. Not super flashy but without a doubt perfect for our needs. Our other need was Greek food at a local restaurant. Upon Efrossini’s recommendation we trotted off to Restaurant Kokkinos, smack bang in the middle of town.
Very few countries have one monolithic food culture. Within any given country, the variety of dishes between regions is affected by climate, local history, land, the seasons and much more. In Italy, pasta is eaten everywhere, but each region has different shapes and sauces that fit into the definition of pasta. In Greece, there is definitely a common thread that makes the food Greek, but what we ate in Ouranapouli was quite different from what we had last April in the Delphi area. I certainly can’t say which I prefered. I’ll take the Italy – Greece comparison a little further and will add Israel into the discussion. Each country has olive oil, a plethora of vegetables, especially tomatoes, local herbs and spices on their menus, but the end results are totally different. Of course none of this philosophizing was on our minds as we wolfed down the mezze of eggplant with honey and walnuts, fried haloumi with fig jam, whipped feta cheese, tzatziki and fava bean dips. When the main dishes of the warm smoked mackerel, octopus in red sauce, baked sardines, fried anchovies, mixed grilled seafood, moussaka, chicken and lamb arrived, we realised that we had over ordered but bravely soldiered on to the end. We wouldn’t have ordered the deserts of orange cake and baclava, but they were brought out to us on the house. We couldn’t insult the restaurateur by refusing their good grace, so we suffered through that. Oh well.
Our day had started at 2.30 a.m. in Israel, and we’d been active now for not quite 20 hours. Our 66 year old bodies were happy to sink into bed by 10.30.
