Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SUNDAY, March 12, 1995 TAG: 9503140016
SECTION: TRAVEL PAGE: F-8 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: STEVE SILK THE HARTFORD COURANT
DATELINE: MIKRO PAPINGO, GREECE LENGTH: Long
Everyone has heard the glories of ancient Greece: mighty Sparta, cultured Athens, the oracle at Delphi. But forget about those revered ruins, where democracy was born and Western civilization took its first faltering steps.
This is about Zagoria, the other ancient Greece, a vast realm of unforgiving stone where remote valleys sheltered in the folds of the Pindus Mountains hide dozens of tiny villages. The 46 villages, collectively called Zagorohoria, lie hidden behind the protective arm of Mitsikeli mountain. Each is a marvel of the mason's art - every millimeter of every village is gray slate stone, from the footpaths to the handsome houses to the soaring arched bridges. Here it is always the stone age.
The 20th century has barely intruded in this patch of northwestern Greece. The region's yawning rock expanses and dense forests remain one of the wildest parts of Europe, where eagles fly, bears prowl and the howls of wolves still rend silent nights. Seminomadic tribal shepherds, the Sarakatsans, still lead their flocks of sheep through the Vikos Gorge, the so-called Grand Canyon of Greece.
On rocky parapets above the 16-mile-long abyss, monks once meditated in stony monasteries. Far below their places of prayer, down in the chasm where the Voidhomatis River runs cold and blue as the sky, desperate, ragged Albanian refugees steal their way into Western Europe.
Few come to Zagoria (pronounced zag-a-REE-a) for the village life. Some of the little towns are deserted and crumbled. Most of the others support vestigial populations. Dilofo, for example, is said to be inhabited in winter by three lone widows. The most populous town, Tsepelovo, supports a population of about 500; but there you are never far from the smell of sawdust, the buzz of saws and the roar of trucks - the local loggers are busily denuding their landscape. And here the fallen buildings so common in Zagoria have a sense of decrepitude rather than ruin.
But a few villages are experiencing a sort of renaissance. Much of the region has recently been set aside as the Vikos-Aoos National Park, and some young people and a few Athenian exurbanites have restored characteristically beautiful stone houses and operate them as bed-and-breakfast accommodations.
A stay in villages such as the Papingos or Monodendri offers tranquil respite and the chance to see a way of life remarkable for its harmony with the surrounding world. Besides, where else can you wake to see herds of sheep or cattle being driven through narrow, stony streets roofed with trellis-trained grapevines?
For most the trip begins in nearby Ioannina, the euphonically named lakeside city once ruled by Ali Pasha, a renegade Albanian despot who decorated his citadel with the severed heads and torn-off limbs of his enemies. Eventually, he double-crossed the Turks one too many times. When they took the city in 1822, Pasha's own head went on display.
Today Ioannina is a bustling crossroads of commerce, but the old section of town, huddled around the citadel and its exotic-looking minaret, recalls the days when this part of Greece was ruled by Turkey. As in Istanbul's Grand Bazaar, there are twisting alleys lined with stalls housing busy tailors, noisy cobblers, ironmongers and jewelers. In the lakeside cafes, mustachioed patrons clack their worry beads and give the backgammon boards a workout. Even the bustle has a vaguely Oriental feel.
The lure of the Orient reached past Ioannina to tug even at the secret valleys of Zagoria. Those villages lie not far south of the old caravan route that linked Rome with Istanbul and the East. In addition, shepherds' paths and traders' trails veined the nearby mountains.
Perhaps because of the promise that seemed to lie at the far ends of those trails, Zagori men succumbed to the siren song of the road. They traveled throughout Europe and the Middle East, working as doctors, lawyers, merchants and teachers.
But they always returned to their villages in the Pindus Mountains. Their earnings enabled them to employ itinerant masons who could shape houses from the abundant stone that lies everywhere in striated heaps, like stacks of ready-to-use bricks. The foreign earnings also went to Souli mercenaries, fierce warriors from the lowlands hired to protect Zagori villages from Turkish marauders or Albanian brigands while the men worked abroad.
As a result of the men's worldly experiences, these remote and isolated villages became quite cosmopolitan. Turn-of-the-century photos display the locals dressed in clothes you'd see on city dwellers. At one point in the past, there was an effort to establish a great university in these mountains.
But today the villages are quiet, the dwindling populace having returned to the gentle pursuits of agriculture and animal husbandry. This is about as far from souvenir joints and souvlaki stands as you can get.
In Mikro Papingo and Megalo Papingo, the 1,000-year-old villages that anchor the western end of Zagorohoria, the year-round population hovers at well under 100. Sheep are more commonly seen on the streets than people.
A handful of hostelries offer accommodation - the villages are particularly popular with Athenians and other Greek vacationers.
The Papingos - Mikro and Megalo (little and big) - are probably the most dramatic destination in Zagoria. Towering above them is the Gamila massif, its tallest peak the fourth highest mountain in Greece. Its snowy pinnacles rise from a lofty plateau, a vast sea of limestone riddled with hidden lakes and deep caves. Adventurers can take the seven-hour trip through the gorge, climb up to Drakolimni, the Dragon Lake, or plunge into the inky depths of Provatina cave.
But first, all eyes rise to fasten on the Pyrgi, the Towers, a quartet of massive limestone monoliths tearing at the sky like the claws of some antediluvian beast.
Far below those towers, tiny Megalo Papingo echoes the other villages of the region. There is the stone square, dominated by a massive plane tree with branches pinwheeling off toward the stratosphere, the stone church and huddled houses. Everything is gray, relieved only by the dusky green of the vegetation, the blue of the sky, and the white glare of mountaintop snows. The wind never stops, nor do the tinkling sounds of bells on sheep and cattle.
This haven of tradition is rudely interrupted by a hilltop structure totally alien to its surroundings. That oversized box of concrete, now a skeletal-looking eyesore, is scheduled to be a hotel that will dwarf every other structure in Zagoria. Locals are fighting its completion, and the legal battle has gone to the highest courts in Greece.
Other outlandish ideas threaten the peace and tranquillity of Zagoria: plans to bulldoze a highway across the plateau, schemes to string electric lighting throughout the gorge, a ski resort for the area. The national park designation may curb such developmental urges.
For now though, the gorge is pristine. From Mikro Papingo you can plumb its depths by following a rocky path that skirts clusters of conical hoodoos on its way down into the Vikos.
Nearly every village is worth exploring. Some hide worthwhile secrets of their own. Take, for instance, the monumental staircase of - what else? - stone coiling up out of the gorge on its way from Kapesovo to the lofty village of Vradeto. Or the sinuous stone bridges around Kipi, especially the three-arched wonder just below the hillside town. Or the Rongovou Monastery in Tsepelovo. The stone age has never looked better.
by CNB