Every cloud has a silver lining. This is also the case after our hero’s journey from Olympia through the mud. That evening the weather was bright again and the Paradiso campsite turned out to be open. What we would normally cycle around a block, this campsite turned out to live up to its name with a beautiful view over the sea.
Because we wanted to be in Patras on Friday to pick up a DHL package, we decided to cycle a direct route to the north on Thursday. In terms of roads almost ‘boring’. As we moved further towards Patras, however, we first saw a number of clearly less prosperous villages with ‘tents’ in the outlying areas with people who we felt looked like Roma. Small children with few clothes in the mud and lots of rugs and blankets over the fences (for sale or to dry?). Our neighbors from Delft had already warned us. In the village where we sit on a bench to spread a sandwich, people quickly left. Another lady came to bring us 2 oranges from our own garden. Yummy😋.
After lunch, more and more plastic greenhouses appeared in the landscape. Arches of about 3 meters high with plastic film over them. Beneath it endless rows of strawberry plants. They go to the Easter breakfast in the Netherlands we joked until after a while it was noticed that there were many dilapidated barns in between; sometimes with corrugated iron often closed with plastic or old cloths. We would not dare to call it a chicken coop, but here live large groups of men with a dark skin color. Fled or was taken? In any case, by our standards, they live in appalling conditions. We noticed that we were trying to make ourselves smaller and smaller, but we can’t escape the fact that we are catching the eye on our snail. At the same time, these people seem to accept us just fine, they greet us kindly and do everything they can to keep the dogs in check.
In the evening, the neighbor opens a campsite for us again and brings a bag with at least 2-3 kilos of citrus fruit from his own garden. So sweet, but how should we take that with us?
The rain that night doesn’t make it any easier to transport. We leave it to the owner who points us to his 1034year old olive tree that overlooks the bay with Patras across the street.
A little later it turns out that the rain we received has given the mountains in the area a beautiful white top.
And now we are spending the weekend in an apartment in Patras. We have a roof terrace with beautiful views of the San Andreas Cathedral. During a walk on Sunday morning it becomes clear how prosperous, almost mundane it is here. It seems as if everyone here settles on a terrace at 12 noon. What a difference from Thursday. How is that possible? And where do we stand in this picture? How do we justify this for ourselves?
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