Golden Hour at Meteora

Right before parking at the outlook point, Kostas gently but firmly warned us to be careful on the ice. As he was saying this, he caught my eye in the rear view mirror and his eyes gave a knowing smile. I nodded sheepishly. Mom and Dad, neither of whom noticed the exchange, simultaneously asked, one in Cantonese and the other in English, “Did you hear that, Hannah?” 

Before any trip, my travel research reliably consists of combing through photos for places to visit. A simple search for "Greece" and you'll quickly come across blue seas, white-washed cave houses, and grand archaeological sites. But something else caught my eye.

I've always loved the outdoors, so when I saw photos of golden rays, sweeping valleys full of wildflowers, and monasteries perched on top of jagged cliffs, I knew we needed to find a way to stop by Meteora. Thanks to Kostas, we arrived to Kalampaka from Delphi with just enough time to drop off our belongings at the hotel before driving up to the cliffs for sunset.

Don't let the warm orange light fool you - 2.5 years in Ithaca weren't enough training to help me endure the cold. We stopped at several points to take photos, and at the last one, my fingers were so frozen that I could only take three shots before immediately hopping back into the car. I was giddy and thrilled to my bones, but the frigid wind restrained me. My beloved, treadless oxfords were no match for the icy terrain and temperature.

Regardless of the cold, nothing could have subtracted from our joy. As quickly as the sun set, time still slowed down in that magical, "let me take a mental picture to remember this forever" kind of way. Sunset at Meteora is undeniably on my list of "moments of infinity."

 

 

I swear he's on his ninth life.

As recorded in my journal: "I think I can die now!"

Dad and Kostas chatting by the warmth of the van. Note that Kostas is wearing a hoodie as outerwear.

Silhouettes of the cliffs in passing.

We made our way down from Meteora back to the village of Kalampaka. Dinner at the old-fashioned Taverna Panellionion suited our afternoon of listening to Kostas play 90's disco music. Even though we're not Greek, walking in made us feel like we were coming home to our Greek grandmother's whose walls are decked out with retro black-and-white photos and vintage flea market finds. Like your extroverted great-uncle who loves to host, the owner led us to see the food his wife was preparing and brought us "hot hot" water to restore feeling into our numb bodies. The fat in the soup and food coated our tongues luxuriously - it was certainly more than what our light palates are used to, but we needed the insulation! 

This post-sunset giddiness brought out the best among us. Our dinner conversation was ridden with belly-aching laughter as we bonded, roasted one another, and took one too many photos. Sometimes when you travel, especially when you look nothing like the locals, you feel like an outsider, but that wasn't the case this evening. We cozied up in our booth and found ourselves at home in no time at all.

Best keftedes we had this trip.

The pinwheels were my favorite.