Dislocation

— Posted inUncategorized — 5 min read
I’m sitting on the terrace of a fantastic hostel (www.littlebighouse.gr/) in Thessaloniki, feeling somewhat dislocated.‎ 
This morning I was up early, and arrived at Agia Skepi in Edessa shortly after Matins had begun. This large and beautiful church is not even a five minute walk from my hotel, and the proprietor is a parishioner there. I’d made it to Vespers there last evening and introduced myself to the priest afterwards, indicating my desire to receive Communion. (Not a problem, thanks in part to the letter of introduction from Fr. Iskander.) It was all in Greek, of course, but I’d gone over the ‎Scripture readings for the day, and the Liturgy is the same no matter which language it’s celebrated in. (To date, I’ve been to services in English {of course!}, Arabic, French, Old Church Slavonic (Russian style), Greek, Albanian, Finnish, Spanish, Romanian, and Macedonian.)
My intestinal discomfort on Saturday didn’t last long, so by noon I was out on the streets exploring the old city of Edessa. The only church I found that was open was full of school age children, and the priest at the front had just begun what I assume was a catechism class. He smiled warmly at me as I slipped in, but I thought it best to remove myself lest I prove too much of a distraction. 
I wandered through the narrow mediaeval streets for a bit, and then found a narrow set of stairs leading down the cliff towards a viewing area for the waterfalls. They were quite nice, although of course ‎Niagara Falls has set a standard that’s hard to beat. Rather than head back up the long and steep set of stairs, I decided to follow the road that led in the direction of the train station in the hope that I’d find another way back up the cliff. The road went from paved to gravel, and from gravel to two dirt ruts in a grassy trail leading between small fenced-off gardens. I kept going, and when I saw a man getting out of a car that was pointed in my direction, I asked about a road up to the city. Instead of answering my question, he said, “Come with me.”
I followed him into the last property at the end of the road and saw a small shelter set up over a table and chairs, with a brick oven. An older gentleman was bringing a large pot to the table, and I was told to sit down and join them. Georgios and Nickolaos shared the chickpea and homemade sausage stew that had been cooking overnight, and then brought out another,larger pan. This had more veggies, and the tongue and cheeks of a pig. Never having eaten either of these delicacies before, I was curious but slightly apprehensive. I needn’t have been – it was delicious! The homemade wine Georgios was pouring may have helped my appreciation somewhat. We sat in the warm afternoon sun and ate and drank and talked for three hours, Nickolaos acting as interpreter.
Finally they announced they needed to head back, and offered me a ride back in to town. (It turns out that Nick is from the same village as Vasilis, the hotel owner.)‎ My belly was full of good hearty food, and my heart was warmed by the free and easy hospitality I had been shown. I was very grateful I’d spent the extra day in Edessa, instead of walking the 45 kms that I’d planned on. After stopping in at the hotel briefly, I headed to the train station to check the schedule, and was back in the neighbourhood in time for Vespers.
After Liturgy this morning, I was delighted to see Georgios. He had shaved, and was dressed like the retired banker he is, rather than the simple farmer I’d met the day before. He introduced me to his wife, but I declined their offer to join them for lunch. (Probably my loss!) As it was, I made it to the train station with minutes to spare. Within minutes of settling in to my seat, I was asleep. (Another reason I prefer self-propulsion.) When the train arrived in Thessaloniki, I pulled my pack on and started walking across the city to the hostel I’d located online the night before. I stopped in at the Basilica of St Demetrios, and once again I was overcome with awe as I stood before his fragrant relics.
And now here I am. The hostel is a lively place, with Americans, Greeks, and Bulgarians staying here. For €13 per night, I have a bunk in a six bed dorm room, which I’m sharing with two American guys. And yet, the lack of continuity between this morning in Edessa and this evening in Thessaloniki feels odd. I experienced a similar feeling on arriving in Durrës and encountering a new language and culture, but at least there I was expecting it.
I’m booked in for the next three nights, and then I’m planning to hop a bus to Sofia, Bulgaria. From there it should be about a three week walk to Istanbul, where I’ll pause again to evaluate my options. At this point, I think I’ll walk to the Mediterranean coast, catch a ferry to Cyprus, and then a flight from Larnaca to Haifa. From there, it’s on to Jerusalem!

‎

Why Walk?

— Posted inUncategorized — 7 min read

A question I’ve been asked quite often on my pilgrimage is why I don’t  just take a bus or drive. My usual response is that when I’m walking I can experience the world around me: the sights, sounds, and smells of the natural world, the sensation of the warm sun or cold wind on my face, even the textures of the path I’m walking. (A thick carpet of pine needles under foot feels very different from a gravel path or a snow covered road.) Most people in the West go to great lengths to insulate themselves from the outdoors, but walking gives me a deeper connection to creation.
This answer satisfies most people, but occasionally I’m told I could roll down the car window ‎and get most of the same with much more comfort. While that’s true, it would also mean that we would not be having the conversation at all. Instead of speeding past the the village, I’d been free to stop in for a coffee in the café.
These human connections are what have given me the most joy in my pilgrimage so far. There have been moments of exultation as I survey the landscape from the heights or watch as the setting sun colours the surrounding peaks orange, red, and purple, but it’s the spontaneous conversations that have meant the most to me. I’ve reported some of those, but there are many more which will likely stay in my notebook. I just don’t have the time to write everything up when I’m walking for eight or more hours each day, and then have to find food and shelter for the night.
Another type of connection I’ve become aware of is with my own body. Walking is inescapably a physical activity. There are days when it is effortless, and walking feels more like flying, but even the assorted aches and weariness I experience serve to emphasise the fact that I am not simply an ambulatory computer. ‎My pace is affected by the slope, my weariness, the wind, and other factors. This in turn influences my breathing and pulse, which provides feedback for my pace. When faced with a steep slope, I automatically slow right down and begin moderating my breathing in order to maintain a steady, if slow, progress.

This post is itself proof of another type of connection I have been able to enjoy. Although I’ve met some pilgrims who choose to listen to music while they’re walking, I prefer to use the hours of solitude to pursue stray thoughts. Sometimes they’re pure whimsy, but occasionally I’m able to follow an idea through to its logical conclusion. One very wise man once told his students that in ancient Greece, philosophy was a pastime for the idle rich, since everyone else was too busy earning a living to have the time to think deeply. At the time I was working midnight shifts at a gas station, and I pointed out that people at the opposite end of the socioeconomic spectrum also had that kind of time. Walking for a third or more of each day doesn’t mean that I’m deep in thought the whole time, but it does create room for it.

Yet another type of connection my journey has allowed me to make is the historical and cultural. I was in the fifth grade when I first started reading about the Roman Empire, and while it never became a consuming passion, I was fascinated by the world they inhabited. Had I chosen to avoid Italy and instead walked through central Europe and then down into the Balkans, I’d have had more than enough time to enjoy northern Greece. Instead, I’ll need to leave this part of the world within the week due to my visa situation, but it was worth it. (I could have spent my entire 90 days in Rome itself and still have left with regrets about what I didn’t get to see.) Paris, Turin, Milan, Siena, Ohrid, Thessaloniki, Sofia, Istanbul, and of course Jerusalem — all of these are world class cities with art, culture, history. The line between pilgrim and tourist can get blurry at times, but this update is about connections. 

It is ironic that, in order for me to make (or strengthen) these connections, I have disconnected myself from my home, my family, my parish, my culture, and my language. As a pilgrim, I usually sleep in a different city each night, and my meals are either shared with strangers or eaten alone.‎ I usually manage to get online each day, but it’s very different from my hyperconnected cyberpresence at home. And the really funny thing is, it’s not necessary to leave home in order to connect the way I have. (Except for the cultural – there are some things the internet just can’t deliver. But there are museums and art galleries.) All it takes is mindfulness: an awareness of my surroundings and my body, and the recognition that every person I encounter offers a new world of wisdom and experience and perspective. The author Jim Forest, in summarising Dorothy Day’s view of pilgrimage, wrote, “every day of one’s life and all that happened along the way, planned or unexpected, were segments of a heavenward pilgrimage, so long as the guiding principle was to live the gospel and to discover Christ in those whom one encountered.”
It is not necessary to travel in order to be a pilgrim, and it’s quite possible to travel great distances and remain nothing but a tourist. I have spent years preparing for this journey, but anyone reading these words can become a pilgrim within their daily routines. Again quoting Jim Forest, in his book Roads to Emmaus. 

“If you give yourself the time and freedom, and allowing sea or air passage of any oceans in the way, you can walk to Santiago de Compostela or even to Jerusalem. But if such major stretches are out of reach because of other commitments, you can be on pilgrimage in your own small patch of the world. Part of the work of a pilgrim is to be surprised. As G. K. Chesterton wrote, “I am astonished at the people who are not astonished.” While being in unfamiliar places may make it easier to be surprised, you can be surprised right where you are. No matter how many times you have walked around the same block, there is always something or someone new to see, some detail previously not noticed. To pay attention to passing faces is a school of meditation and prayer.”

A few days ago, I spotted some (English) graffiti in a bus stop just outside a small Greek village. Don’t be content with merely existing. Start living! And the best way to do this is to pay attention to the people and the world around you. 
And perhaps, while attending to the presence of others, you may become aware of the Other‎, that still small voice of God. I haven’t had any major epiphanies, but there have been small moments of grace, too many to enumerate. My prayer for this pilgrimage of mine is that it will draw me closer to Christ. And that is also something that can occur without leaving home.

An extra day in Edessa

— Posted inUncategorized — 1 min read
This morning, for the first time on my pilgrimage, I have had serious internal turmoil. (I’m trying to be circumspect.) Beginning a 40 km walk with gastrointestinal issues is not something I’m keen to do, so I think I’ll stay in Edessa for an extra day and then hop a bus to Thessaloniki on Sunday after Liturgy. (My 90 day stay in the Schengen area is rapidly drawing to a close.) I think it’ll be safe to make short exploratory forays into the old city, but I won’t be going too far from civilisation today. I may also visit a pharmacy and buy a remedy for what’s ailing me.

Jan 13 – 16: Northern Greece

— Posted inUncategorized — 13 min read
Bitola to Florina:
After leaving Bitola, located at the northwest edge of a large plain, I headed south and a little east towards the Greek border. This plain is ringed with mountains on all sides, and at the start of my day, the peaks were all snowcapped. There was also a fair bit on the ground, left over from the snowfall on my first night ‎in Bitola. As usual, I’d consulted the Via Egnatia guidebook and decided against walking through the small villages in the foothills, opting instead to follow the lightly travelled road that led across the plain directly to the border. In spite of the snow, it was quite warm, and I soon had my sleeves rolled up. 
The border crossing was uneventful, and when I reached the first town across the border I decided it was time for lunch. The guidebook had mentioned that staying in Niki was possible, but that a traveller would have to ask about private rooms for the night in one of the cafés. Perhaps Niki is not a ghost town in the warmer months, but all three cafés I saw were shuttered, as were the two small shops. The snow covered playground of the tiny school didn’t have any footprints , and this was a Tuesday! I seated myself at a table on the covered patio of one of the cafés, tweeted that I was in Greece, and tucked in to my supplies.
The VE guidebook indicated that next two towns listed ‎were also of the “ask around” nature, so rather than risk sleeping on the street, I decided to head south and a little west to the city of Florina. That did add a few hours of walking to this section, but I was also concerned about the section between Meliti (which I bypassed on Wednesday) and Kelli (which I walked through on Thursday). According to my GPS app, the road ends in Meliti, with an 1100 m peak between that town and the next. This was borne out by the directions in the guidebook. At this time of year in this part of the world, that kind of altitude guarantees there will be plenty of snow on the ground, and the last two times I followed the VE over mountain passes, it got quite challenging.
So, Florina it was! From Niki, there was a choice of three routes: the main road which curved east and then back west, the secondary road which turned immediately west and skirted the base of the mountain range ringing the plain, and a single lane farm track that led almost due south through two villages before connecting with a secondary road that led directly to Florina. 
The farm track hadn’t been plowed, but there was a clear set of tire tracks the whole way. The first village I reached was virtually empty. Lots of large farm machinery parked on the street, ‎and even more abandoned homes, crumbling and overgrown. The next village was larger and more populated. When I saw a café, I realized I hadn’t had any caffeine all day, so in I went. Heads turned, but soon enough I was sitting at a long table with several of the locals. One of the women had lived in Hamilton for twenty years, so she translated some of what was going on. I was offered some loukoumades (yummy!), and when I went to pay for my coffee, I was told that it was taken care of. I posted the photo of the group to Flickr a few days ago. My benefactor was the one who refused to face the camera. Who am I to complain?  I arrived in Florina after dark, but my GPS app led me directly to a hotel. Along the way, I discovered that the large and aggressive looking dogs which roam free in Greece are easily cowed. A loud and stern shout, accompanied by a stooping motion and then a throw of an imaginary rock will get them to turn tail.
Florina to Vevi:
‎Another day of warm sunshine after a sub-freezing night, and another few hours of walking with my sleeves up. I think I like Greece! My walk today led me east and south across the vast mountain-ringed plain. After several hours of walking, the southwestern range came into clearer focus, and I could see they were lower than the hills farther north, and also snow-free, probably because the peaks were exposed to the warm sun all day. The snow was also gradually melting away as I walked. Looking back across the plain, I could see a faint haze obscuring the mountains on the far side. My guess is it was from all the snow melting and evaporating. The last few hours as I approached my destination saw me enter gently sloping foothills. As the sun drew near the horizon, it did start to get rather chilly, so when I arrived in Vevi, I was quite happy to take refuge in the first café I saw. It’s not a large village, and my GPS app didn’t indicate any hotels in the area, so all I could do was follow the advice of my guidebook (given for a different town) and ask if there was anywhere in town I could spend the night. Nobody in the café spoke English, so this involved using my smartphone to display the “survival phrases” I’d compiled before I left. I was in luck! The guy who’d been talking at me in Greek in a very friendly and engaging manner took me outside and pointed the way. He also told me he’d pay for my coffee, but then he just got up and left without settling either of our tabs. Thinking I must have misunderstood him, I paid for my coffee and headed down the road.
The sun had set and a wind picked up while I was nursing my coffee and repeating the phrase “Then katalaveno.” (I don’t understand.)‎ The hotel was a few hundred metres away, and I was very glad to arrive. (Maybe I should have added an extra layer or two before leaving the café. Ya think?) Leonidas speaks English fluently, and after leaving my pack in my room, we were soon deep in a theological discussion. At one point, he apologised for keeping me talking, which made me laugh. Here was a man who actually thought about these matters, and cared enough to share his questions and observations with a total stranger! I was something of a curiosity to him, since I’d been raised in one faith tradition and after years of study had entered a different one. I was able to offer him perspectives on Orthodoxy that he hadn’t encountered before, and I think he appreciated hearing about the faith he’d been born into from a convert’s perspective. Eventually I excused myself and set out to find dinner. When I returned, the ground floor was full of people watching a football match (that’s “soccer” to you North Americans), so I headed up to my room where I showered and posted a few catch-up messages. By the time I came back down, the place was empty except for one man sitting at the bar speaking with Leonidas, and my friend from earlier in the evening. This time there was no mistake, and he bought me a beer which I sipped as we looked at the computer monitor where Leonidas was browsing through my Flickr sets. (Interesting observation: in Italy when I told people of my plans, they were marvelled at the distance. In Greece, people immediately latch on to the destination. Finally, I don’t have to explain why! Pascha in Jerusalem is a self-evident good here.) My other beer was courtesy of my host.
After everyone else had left, Leonidas and I chatted a bit longer, but I knew he finished work at midnight and I felt bad about keeping him from his home. Well, and I also felt tired. We added one another as friends on Facebook and said goodbye. When I arrive in Jerusalem (God willing!) I will light a candle for him. (My list of friends and benefactors continues to grow, and in addition to my prayers of gratitude along the way, I will specifically commemorate each one when I reach my destination.)
Vevi to Arnissa:
‎Vevi is in the foothills, and the walk out of town on the old road was very steep – just what’s needed to combat the morning chill! As I walked uphill past the school, I glanced down and caught the eye of a student who was gazing out the window. I waved, and then waved again a few seconds later as the teacher and the rest of the students looked up at me. Booyeah! Leonidas had told me that this road would be practically deserted, and he was right. It was a steady climb up from Vevi to the town of Kelli, and when I saw a café there I was glad to sit down and have a (very large) Greek coffee. The café also had WiFi, so I replied to a few messages and checked the weather and Facebook. My elevation was now 400 m above Vevi – the road was clear but the snow on either side was fairly deep and the wind was quite cold. I was very glad I had not followed the Via Egnatia cross-country and over the higher pass to Kelli! 
Once I’d left the village behind, the wind died down and I soon shed my wind-proof jacket. As I continued to descend, the sleeves were rolled up, and I soon left the snow and ice behind me. (Except where the surrounding peaks cast a permanent shadow.) For hours, the only sound I heard were birds and my own footsteps. I might have seen a car every half hour, so the peace was virtually undisturbed.  I could hear vehicles approaching a minute or more before they finally passed me.
By 1:45, I had rounded ‎a turn in the mountains and saw my destination ahead of me in the distance. It was less than 8 kms away as the crow flies, but the road was hardly that direct. It took another three and a half hours before I finally arrived in Arnissa, and just as the night before, I had no idea where I would be spending the night. Barely 50 m to my left from the first intersection was a bar. Since it had worked so well the night before, I headed in and ordered a drink. By the time I got around to asking about a place to stay, a young woman had come in to get a coffee to go. Turns out she speaks English, and had the number of a hotel in town. She called the proprietor, relayed the pertinent information, a nd told me he’d be coming to pick me up in a few minutes. Then she took her coffee and headed out the door, accompanied by my thanks.
The hotel was just a few hundred metres away, but after checking me in and a brief conversation in Greek (I don’t speak Greek!), Kyriakos headed off again. Our conversation consisted of me reading from my “survival phrases” cheat sheet to tell him I am an Orthodox Christian pilgrim who’s walking to Jerusalem for Pascha. Turns out his mother had been there many years before, and he was himself planning a trip to Mount Athos ‎later this year. I picked up a few supplies from the supermarket around the corner, and then fell asleep shortly after listening to The World This Hour on the CBC. I woke up three hours later, and stayed awake until almost 4:00 am. Arggh! I changed my alarm to allow for a few extra hours of sleep and went back to bed. (I changed times zones when I entered Greece, jumping to GMT+2. I hadn’t expected it to make a difference, but I’ve been starting my walking quite late ever since. The good news is, I’ll be in this time zone until I head west again. {I think. Anyone know which time zone Bulgaria is in?})
Arnissa to Edessa:
Another late start (11:00 AM) and steep climb to begin my day, but it was a very short walk today – only 24 kms. More walking in the sun with my sleeves up, and the only snow I’d seen since descending from Kelli the day before was on the highest surrounding peaks.‎ Before leaving Arnissa, I stopped at a cafe for a Greek coffee, and shortly after she delivered that, the proprietor came to my table with a small dessert plate, on the house. (Yes, I think I like Greece!) Thanks to quite a few kilometres of extensive road work, I had a whole lane to myself for much of the walk, with either a crash barrier or traffic cones marking the extent of my demesne. It was a very gradual uphill climb most of the day, but the terrain shifted about an hour outside of Edessa, leading downhill on grades that were as steep as 10% at times. I had paused for a break on the wide shoulder of a hairpin turn overlooking the city a few kilometres away when a small pickup truck pulled off the road on the gravel and stopped in front of me. The passenger was none other than my helpful friend from Vevi. We were still faced with mutual incomprehension, but we had a short and friendly exchange before they headed on their way again. 
From the hills above, I had seen that Edessa is a small city. As I walked through it towards the old centre where the hotels were located, I realized I hadn’t seen this many shops since leaving Florina. (If I’d hunted long enough, I probably would have found a laundromat. I didn’t bother, having done my laundry in the bathtub {Yes, bathtub! A very rare find in a hotel in the Balkans!} the night before.) I checked in to the first hotel I came across, just on the edge of the old city. After unpacking and having a short rest, I went off to explore. It was dark by then, but wandering the mediaeval quarter was quite nice. The two 14th century churches I found were both closed, but I’ll walk past them in the morning on the off chance I’ll be able to glance inside.
The city is situated along the edge of a cliff which overlooks the plain leading to Thessaloniki and the Aegean Sea. For this reason, and also because of the two rivers which flow through town (and then over the cliff), Edessa has been continuously inhabited since the 6th century BC. The earliest settlement was at the foot of the cliff, and I’ll be walking through the archaeological site as I make my way towards my next destination. 
After several short walking days, as dictated by the course of the road and location of towns, I face a much longer walk on Saturday. No 11:00 AM start for me! The sun rises at 7:55 and sets at 5:30, so I intend to take full advantage of the available daylight as I trek onwards to Giannitsa.

Coffee in Kato Klines

— Posted inUncategorized — 1 min read

One advantage of walking through a country instead of driving is that I have met many wonderful and hospitable people. The gentleman facing away from the camera paid for my coffee. One of the women had lived in Hamilton for twenty years before returning to Greece, so she acted as a translator. http://flic.kr/p/qNJWnC