Monemvasia

Greece

Monemvasia

My time painting in Monemvasia was routinely punctuated by a procession of donkeys clattering through the tangle of cobbled lanes, carting sacks of building rubble.

Byzantine walls and churches

This archaic sight paints the perfect picture of this little gem of a place.

While embracing modern necessities like Wi-Fi, flat whites and contactless payment, some aspects of Monemvasia have barely changed since the 6th century, when one of Europe’s oldest inhabited fortress towns was first established.

The town’s name originates from two Greek words; ‘moni’ (μόνη) meaning single, and ‘emvasis’ (έμβασις) meaning approach.

Certainly, the approach to Monemvasia is singularly spectacular.

To appreciate just how spectacular, you may have to look up the word ‘tombolo’. As I had to.

The tombolo is not, in fact, a lucky dip, but a leggy spit. In this case, connecting Monemvasia with the middle finger of the Peloponnese, making it a tied-island. In 375 AD, a powerful earthquake separated a huge chunk of rock from the mainland and dumped it in the Myrtoan Sea. Over time, the tombolo was formed by sediment blown and washed to the lee of the island. This narrow causeway became Monemvasia’s sole approach. Hence the name.

To make the site even more impenetrable, a Medieval fortress was built on the plateau atop the steep cliffs, while a ‘new town’ grew up within monumental walls, wedged between the base of the cliff and the Aegean.

Appropriately enough, the fortified walls of ‘the Gibraltar of Greece’ have one single gateway through which everything must enter and leave. This leaves no room for cars or heavy machinery, hence the reliance on beasts of burden to do the donkey work.

To leave no room for doubt, ‘isthmus’ and ‘tombolo’ are subtly different geographic phenomena. An isthmus is a peninsula that’s nearly become an island. Whereas a tombolo is the opposite: a thin strip formed by wind and waves, where there was once no link between island and mainland. France’s Mont Saint-Michel originally had a sandy tombolo, as did Gibraltar, whereas Galle Fort is built on an isthmus. For the real pedant, Lindisfarne, ‘Holy Island’ in the North East of England, has neither. Its causeway is man-made.

Wedged

All worth knowing, in case it comes up in a pub quiz one day!

Don’t let all this topographical talk or the Gibraltar reference put you off this spectacular place, by the way.

Whatever the nomenclature, with its ideal combination of natural features and fortified structures, a location en route between Constantinople and Sicily and the perfect naval outlook, Monemvasia enjoyed a prosperous and varied history. At times it was controlled by Byzantine Greeks, Franks, Venetians and Ottoman Turks. It was even once briefly handed over to the Pope.

Nowadays, the controlling forces are InstaTube, Whats-your-Face and TripTok. Visitors are enslaved to their phones, unable to find their way around without them, unable to decide for themselves between the four restaurants and obliged to post selfies at every twist and turn, lest anyone question whether such a place can really exist or that the visitors have genuinely found their way there.

Within the walls

All of which is mildly comic. If ever there was a place you didn’t need digital assistance to explore and enjoy, it’s here. Within its restraining walls, the town occupies the space no larger than about a dozen football pitches. Albeit the sloping, rocky terrain is far from football-friendly. You could cover the whole ground before half-time, with zero risk of wandering out of position, thanks to the walled touchlines.

To the dedicated moocher, like myself, this puts Monemvasia in the premier league of dally-friendly locations. The experience is complemented by the jumble of narrow lanes, that twist, dummy and duck under buildings on their way to, well, nowhere in particular. If you were looking for somewhere in particular, you’d be much more likely to find it by not looking, rather than navigating to a pin on your phone.

Monemvasia's moochability is compounded by its cobbles. Centuries of footfall -pedestrian and equestrian - have smoothed them friction-free, making slow the only safe way to proceed.

Arguably the best view of town is to proceed outside its walls, through a lone gate that leads down to a swimming platform in the rocks. It took me three days of wandering to find this gem of a spot.

Dappled

Swimming out into the Aegean, the town gradually begins to peek above its fortified walls. By the time it’s fully and spectacularly visible, you’re some distance out to sea, at the mercy of the currents and with the summer Meltimi whipping up a daunting surf. It all adds to the fun.

Texture everywhere

Fun fact; Monemvasia recorded Greece’s highest minimum temperature ever over a single day, at a sticky 35.7°C. It also enjoys a record 133 ‘tropical nights’ a year (when the temperature doesn’t fall below 20°C all night). Indeed, Monemvasia has never dropped below freezing this side of the Ice Age.

To take the heat off, the aforementioned Meltemi blew the whole time I was there in July, at times furiously. Great for cooling, less good for collaging. If you do visit, you’ll probably find little pieces of my art still scattered amongst the cobbles.

Those cobbles and the stone merchant houses they connect have been continuously occupied since the twelfth century, another record. Nowadays some of them are no more than piles of rubble, while others have been made Instagram and Airbnb worthy, thanks again to those hard working donkeys.

In case you’ve not clocked it yet, cliffs, stones and cobbles are your ever-present, rock-solid companions in Monemvasia. They form the hallmark and touchstone of pretty much every view here. From every angle, the look is pretty and textural, if not exactly colourful. Which makes it something of a painting challenge.

If all I’ve described sounds like a diverting day trip, you’re not wrong.

But seeing a place and being in a place aren’t the same thing.

The experience of being in Monemvasia is all about being contained within its walls, about twisting, slipping and ducking, about feeling its texture, and about occasionally busting out and braving the Aegean lapping (or even crashing) at its footings.

Ultimately, it all comes down to your approach to travel.

For me, there's only one approach to whiling away time worth considering - the Monemvasia way.

When the Meltimi eventually blows itself out, an ascent to the upper town will blow you away. The view looking down takes in the whole town, tessellated within its walls. The upper gate atmospherically evokes its ‘you shall not pass’ history. The ramshackle collection of tumble-down dwellings spreads expansively amongst the crispy, crumbly patches of kiln-dry wildflowers. And the Holy Church of Hagia Sophia pretends to be a smaller replica of its Constantinople namesake. The far side of the church offers up a sudden shock. The cliffs fall away abruptly, overlooking crashing surf 400 feet below. Watch your footings if you choose to peer down.

A 'Being in' place

A Few Links and Practicalities

(Just sharing the love. I absolutely don’t get paid for these.)

Monemvasia is a stupidly easy 2¼ hour drive from Kalamata airport, one of the smallest and easiest airports you’ll ever pass through.

Once at Monemvasia, I parked on the causeway and didn’t touch the car for five days, although I’m told there’s no shortage of spectacular drives in the wild Peloponnese.

There are two hotels of note;

Bastione Malvasia Hotel: www.bastionemalvasia.gr

Sitting at the far side of town, just as the buildings peter out and the east wall dominates proceedings. This place looks rather good, with terrific views across town. Lovely low-key café too.

Hotel Byzantino: www.bastionemalvasia.gr

Less a hotel and more a collection of rooms. Mine had an epic balcony with miles of sea view.

… plus there's no shortage of Airbnb renovations.

Of Monemvasia's four restaurants, my favourite meal was at none of them, but at the Enetiko Cafe & Cocktail Bar.

Close second was the reassuringly traditional taverna Matoula.