Onwards to Gythio

Am in Gythio, a tiny port in Lakonia. Got here by bus a couple of hours ago. The Peloponnesus is even more mountainous than central Greece: elevations are perhaps lower, but valleys are fewer and smaller. The light cloud cover over Athens became thicker as we moved west and south, and soon it was raining. The country looks, again, too green for winter, and olive and orange trees are everywhere, accompanied by the ever-present cypresses. The sun pierced the clouds here and there, falling now on the water of Saronikós Kolpós and later on the hills, until it set behind them.

Highlights along the way were the Corinth canal which, narrow and deep and smooth-walled, separates the Peloponnesus from the rest of the continent. Then there was Sparta, which i hope to visit on my way back north.

Speaking of Sparta, as we were leaving it a small Peloponnesian war erupted on the bus, and the main contenders were the bus driver and the man sitting next to me. Having as background not one but two cultures where people complain and argue loudly, the episode wasn't so unfamiliar to me, but it did get pretty scary at one point, as the two seemed on the edge of hitting each other. What they were yelling was all greek to me (har-har!), but basically it all started because some ten passengers got on the already full bus at the terminal in Sparta. The bus driver complained loudly at the guy who was checking the tickets, but nothing doing, they got on and had to stand on the aisle. Some started smoking and then there was also a strong smell of salami, and i thought "this is like home!" Of course, if the company has no more buses to send, we'll all make room. No problem with me, particularly as it was just another 45 k to Gythio. As they kept repeating this name, by the way, i also understood most of them would get off here.

In any case, we were still on our way out of the city when the bus stopped again, and some ten more people came aboard. The bus driver grumbled and fumed again, but the eruption actually took place right next to me: my seat companion yelled very loudly at the driver, the many 'a's and 'o's and 'u's of greek rising in volume, 's's and 'z's spewing everywhere. The driver reacted: he stood up, still yelling, and came towards us. The guy next to me got to his feet, too, and turned, as if to leave his seat; i leaned casually away, against the window, trying to take some distance from the approaching battle -- and from his butt, which was almost in my face now. We were on the third row, but before the driver could get too near, thankfully those on rows one and two intervened, as did most everyone else, standing and sitting, all the way back to the bottom of the bus. We spent some five to ten minutes like this, with this guy very aggressively shouting, the bus driver angrily answering back, not less loudly, and everybody else gabbling more or less conciliatorily.

From some gestures and hand signals, i thought i understood that the man next to me wasn't really bothered by the people standing, but more by the fact that he thought it quite unsafe for people to travel standing on a long distance bus. The road here is quite sinuous, after all... It then downed on me that we ARE in the European Union after all, for nobody back home would have made such a fuss over the matter (although, to tell the truth, our long distance buses in Argentina are luxurious, compared to any i've seen in either Europe or the US).

I also felt for the poor driver, as perhaps his choices were very limited. Maybe he would have gotten in trouble with his employers if he had decided not to take on the extra passengers. But then, aren't we in the European Union? Wouldn't he be protected by law?

Anyway, back to Gythio: a row of picturesque houses, cafes and tavernas alongside the shore, and the rest of the village rising behind, on a hill that rolls down almost to sea. Clouds parting, the moon over the water together with anchored fishing boats. My hotel window looks right out at this, over a tiny balcony.