I get really excited whenever I manage to decipher a word that's written in Greek. With a whole new alphabet to master, it's like learning to read all over again. Just the other day, I successfully sounded out "froo-ta" in the little fruit and vegetable shop in Kilada. Let me tell you, the guy behind the counter was pretty impressed with me. He clearly thought I had potential as a student of Greek, because he came out from behind the counter and started dashing around the shop pointing to all the fruits and saying "froo-ta", then pointing to all the vegetables and saying the Greek word for vegetable. Of course, I promptly forgot the word for vegetable but, you know, baby steps...

With just a few simple rules, you can learn the Greek alphabet too. The first surprise is that the letter you know as Beta, which you will naturally assume is pronounced like a B, is actually known as "Vita" and is pronounced like a V. There is no symbol for the B sound in Greek; instead you have to write an M and a P together, but for the P you have to use the "pi" symbol because the letter that looks like a P is actually an R. Are you still with me? The letter that looks like a V is actually an N and the letter that looks like Y is really a U (or maybe a g). Fortunately, A, K and M are the same in both alphabets. Now, here's your map, the place names are in Greek, let's test your skill on road trip! Never mind that a popular sport in the Peloponnese seems to be painting over road signs with the deliberate intention of bewildering travellers...how hard can it be?

In places, the road from Kilada to Epidaurus twists and turns like a corkscrew, with steep drop offs, few guard rails and numerous little roadside shrines marking the spots where unfortunate travellers went over the edge. Some particularly bad curves have multiple shrines. Our "Pop's Rent-a-Car" Fiat Panda maxes out at 65 km on the uphill stretches and even the big lumbering tractor trailer trucks are passing us. The altered road signs at intersections add an element of excitement. When we finally arrive at the site of the Epidaurus theatre, my hands are cramped up like claws and I realize I have been holding the sides of my seat in a death grip for most of the drive. As we park the car and head for the ticket booth, the pavement is throwing off more heat than a coke oven. "Maybe we can just get a glimpse of the theatre from the fence" Rick says hopefully, but since the acoustics of the theatre are its unique feature, we must go inside. Fortified with two bottles of cold water, we head up the path.



Even with the stage partly hidden by sets and props for the summer theatre festival, this huge theatre is a very special place. The theatre's seats look out over the dramatic pine-covered mountains of the Peloponnese, and the acoustics are truly amazing. From the stage and floor of the theatre, the sound comes back to you like nothing we have heard before. As an Italian woman stands on the stage and speaks to her friends, the sound reverberates so clearly that I initially think she is testing a sound system, then realize there is no microphone. I climb to the highest seat (up 112 steps, by Rick's count) and can clearly hear Rick quoting "Julius Caesar" from the stage. "I come not to praise Caesar, but to bury him" bounces off the 14,000+ seats, of which, at the moment, all but mine are empty. They say that if you drop a coin on the marble altar near the stage, the sound can be heard from the top of the theatre. That trick doesn't work for us though, maybe because of the cicadas making such a deafening racket.

We tour the small museum, where we learn much about the art of medicine in ancient times. Epidaurus was also the site of the "Asclepion", a temple dedicated to Asclepius, the god of healing. Asclepius is often portrayed holding a staff wrapped by snake, a symbol still used by the medical profession today.



In ancient times, Epidaurus was a health care destination, and pilgrims came from far and wide to seek supernatural intervention for their ailments. And it wasn't all about praying and making offerings to Asclepius; treatments were actually given on site and some surgery was even performed.

A group of students from the American School of Classical studies in Athens are sketching statues and poring over the ancient engravings with three of their professors. As we leave the museum and walk toward the Asclepion, one professor, who really looks the part in his Indiana-Jones hat and wire-rimmed glasses, tells the students that, in keeping with the mood of the site, they should make the journey to the temple in silence...there will be opportunities for discussion later. Walking through the quiet site, with its stunning mountain views and shady pines, it is easy to imagine this as a spa destination or a place of retreat for the ancients.



We leave the students clustered under a tree, hearing a lecture on the history of the temple. I feel quite envious, and wish we could linger to eavesdrop, but my travelling companion is very anxious to get back to the air-conditioned comfort of the car.




We head for Nafplio, the first capital of independent Greece, said to be one of the most beautiful cities in the country. We park on the waterfront, overlooking a small island with the Bourtzi fortress, built by the Venetians in the 15th century.



High above us looms the massive Palamidi fortress, infamous to Greeks as the place where Kolokotronis, the hero of their war of independence, was imprisoned. Our mechanic Demetrius has told us about Kolokotronis, and his imprisonment in the fortress. "If he was a hero, why was he put in prison?" asks Rick. "Because we're crazy!" says Demetrius. We decide against climbing the legendary 999 steps to the fortress. Perhaps another day.

Nafplio really is a pretty place. You've no doubt heard a bit about the demonstrations in Athen's Syntagma Square in the news; Nafplio's main square is also named "Syntagma", which means "Constitution" in Greek. There are no demonstrators here; not many people at all in fact, so we are able to get a good view of the square's marble pavement and the graceful Venetian/neo-classical style buildings that surround it. In the streets around the square, the plethora of touristy shops detracts a bit from Nafplio's charms, but, being urbanites, we love to be back in a city with cafés and people bustling about. We head for a sidewalk café for a late lunch of mixed mezza plates, then wander through a few of the shops. As we make our way back to Kilada, we drive slowly along the coast road, finding a few potential anchorages along the way. The road eventually takes us through an impressive gorge, but with no guard rails I can hardly bear to look. We are back on the boat on time to watch the sun set over the bay, marveling at the incredible pink colour of the sky. The streaks that leap from the horizon call to mind the "rosy-fingered dawns" of the Odyssey...it seems that dusk can creep out on rosy fingers too.

Soon, we will be living in a dusty boatyard, but for a few more sunsets, we are living the dream.

Traveller's note: It would be an unforgettable experience to attend a performance in the Epidaurus theatre, but this may not be the right year to try it. Our Argentinian neighbours in the boatyard booked tickets, rented a car and drove the 60+ minutes to get there, only to be told that the performers were on strike!