Zorba + Beach
So, you’ve read the title, and your mind has conjured images of the final scenes of Cacoyannis’ film, Zorba the Greek. But this post is not about Crete or that beach, though I have visited and written about that before. You can read all about it here.
Nevertheless, this story takes us to a different part of Greece and includes some glorious serendipity. I swear, these things just find me, and I didn’t expect to stumble onto this in the Mani. I knew the players, but I hadn’t thought about it that day when we took an impromptu road trip from Kalamata one blistering hot July day.
While in Greece this summer, my family and I spent several days in Kalamata. For one of the days, my older daughter didn’t feel well, so we stayed in. The next day, though better, she wasn’t feeling 100%. We didn’t want to spend another day indoors, so we decided to take a drive and see where the road took us. My husband suggested the Kardamyli area. We visited that area a few years back, on the way back from the Caves of Diros. Thay day, we also stumbled into a little village called Agios Nikolaos and had the most amazing lunch. So, we thought, why not?
Mani
If you haven’t visited the Mani, it boasts a gorgeous, rugged landscape. Of the three peninsulas (sometimes called fingers) that extend southwest from the Peloponnese, this one’s in the middle. The mountains hum with history—from the discovery of Neolithic remains, to artifacts from the Mycenean period to Byzantine conflicts, and storied battles during the Greek War of Independence. Throughout that history, Maniots have always been fierce fighters, having engaged in countless battles. And for much of that time, they remained self-governing. The terrain, while breathtaking, is often jagged and inaccessible. Perhaps this is why the people have a reputation for being as rugged as the landscape. Nonetheless, you’ll find gracious hospitality in these parts.
In ancient times, the Mani was part of Laconia, ruled by the Spartans. Today’s Mani is split administratively between the Laconia and Messinia prefectures. Each has developed their own unique character. The Messinian side is said to get more rainfall. The endings of last names have even evolved to alert people to which side one hails. Messinian Maniot names tend to have a -eas ending, while Laconian Maniot names have an -akos ending.
Each time I visit, I’m always struck at the region’s raw beauty. As we ascended into the hairpin turns, I could see into a mass of blue, some areas untouched. Mani is known for Frankish castles, sandy beaches, caves, and more. I love the stacked stone houses that are synonymous with this region, reminiscent of castles. Complete with battlements, the raised merlons and the lower crenels.
It’s also home to unique products like glina or syglino, (pork or pork sausage made with herbs and stored in lard with orange peel), plus honey and olive oil.
Towns like Gytheio, Areopoli, Kardamyli, and Stoupa get a fair number of tourists in the summer. We’d driven through Kardamyli a few years back hoping to find the home of Patrick Leigh Fermor. But that’s a story for another day.
Kalogria Beach
On this day, my husband suggested we try a beach at Stoupa. I have a friend who lived there for a few years before returning to the States. She often spoke of the sandy beaches and breathtaking views. We didn’t really have a plan, hence when we saw the sign for Kalogria Beach, we followed it.
We parked the car, plucked the beach bag from the trunk, and donned our sun hats. As we walked toward the beach under a scorching sun, we came upon a mural. I couldn’t believe it. Like I said, this stuff just finds me. I stopped in my tracks, rooted to the spot.
“Oh my God!” I screeched
My husband, several paces ahead whipped around at my cry.
“Come and see this!”
It was 100 degrees and here I was asking him to come back. He had been further down the street and on the other side. Clearly he was focused elsewhere because he missed it. He returned, sweat beading on his forehead.
I pointed.
We both stood in awe at the site, as we are both big fans. Our daughters shook their heads and kept walking. They’re teenagers. These things don’t interest them—not yet.
Nikos Kazantzakis and his old friend who became his most famous character—Giorgos Zorbas—loomed large, right before us!
How’s that for serendipity? Of course, this discovery sparked my curiosity, and I wanted to explore. I lingered there for a moment, ruminating on the discovery. I wondered why it was there.
“Come, on! Let’s go, Mom!” one of the girls shouted, annoyed. I raced to catch up.
I thought we might get the kids settled on lounge chairs and then I could go find out more. No such luck. They sat and I started to unpack the beach bag. But daughter #1 clutched her stomach and grew pale. The blaring sun made her queasy, so we opted for a cold drink in the shade of a café.
I scanned the area, breathing deep and taking in all its beauty. Something buzzed through me that afternoon. I couldn’t put my finger on it at the time. As I tried to lean into it, to perhaps tap into that energy, I was distracted. My older daughter just wanted to get to bed. And this was not the sort of adventure my younger daughter had in mind, though she is the one that usually tells us to leave her on the beach and “go see your history”. So, reluctantly, I gathered our things and inhaled the salt air deep into my lungs. I needed its strength. We walked toward the parking lot, where I spotted a sign. The street we walked on was dedicated to the legendary Cretan author!
Ok, so now my wanderlust was in overdrive. Sadly, as much as I wanted to explore, I had to take care of my daughter. So, I snapped quick photos, and we headed to the car—I stopped and looked back often, like something pulled me to stay. My cell phone didn’t have great reception on the road, so I vowed to research this later. And of course, life has its own ideas, and it would be a couple of months before I sat down to ask my old friend Google.
Kazantzakis in the Mani
Turns out in 1917, Kazantzakis established a lignite mine business near that very beach. He needed an engineer to help him run it and recruited Giorgos Zorbas from northern Greece to lead the operation. This Zorbas was known as a larger-than-life character. Sound familiar?
Recall from the movie that “the boss”, played by Alan Bates, travels to Crete where he’d inherited a lignite mine. On the way, he meets the charismatic Zorba, brilliantly brought to life by Anthony Quinn, and agrees to hire him as the foreman. Who can ever forget the “splendiferous crash”?
I knew about Kazantzakis and his real-life friend Zorbas, but I didn’t know where the mine was—for some reason I thought it to be up north, and here I stumbled right to it! Don’t you love how that works? And I will go back—I MUST. There are tours, and I’m told the locals are more than happy to share the history. You can see the caves where they mined (the main entrances are no longer accessible), the nearby company office (now a private residence), and more.
Apparently, in the summer months, Zorbas lived in a hut on Kalogria Beach. Kazantzakis lived on the opposite side of the beach, though his house is no longer there. And according to Mani Developments, just beyond the edge of the beach is a small cave where Kazantzakis perched at a table, where he read and wrote in solitude. And on Kalogria Beach, Zorbas and the other workers relaxed after work, occasionally joined by Kazantzakis and his good friend, Angelos Sikelianos, one of Greece’s most important poets. This is one of the incredible things about Greece. There’s history everywhere!
Write what you know
We’re always told “Write what you know”. We bring our collective experiences to our work and cull inspiration everywhere. Kazantzakis operated this mine with Zorbas for about a year, but it wasn’t until 1946 that he published The Life and Times of Alexis Zorba, which we’ve come to know by the title of the 1964 movie adaptation, Zorba the Greek.
Sometimes we don’t see the story right away, or it takes time to percolate. Perhaps Kazantzakis wasn’t ready to share it until decades later. The story setting is the author’s native Crete, another stunning—and storied—landscape. Kazantzakis becomes “the boss” and Giorgos morphs into Alexis, still larger than life, encouraging us that “to be alive is to undo your belt and look for trouble”. That “a person needs a little madness, or else they never dare cut the rope and be free”, and other words of wisdom.
It’s been a while since I read the book—the Peter Bien translation, which is far superior to the previous one, as it was translated to English from French and much is lost in translation. Do seek out the Bien translation, as it retains much of the magic. We do have a copy of the book in Greek and it’s on my list to read. Kazantzakis skillfully played with language, often peppering in Cretan dialect, and even made-up words. But that was just a part of his genius. As for the film, Cacoyannis’ award-winning adaptation remains one of my all-time favorites.
Let’s dance—and write—on the beach
Now I want to grab my Greek version of “Zorba” and book a place in the area for a few days. I want to walk in Kazantzakis’ footsteps. Read and write where he did. Sit there and feel the energy, to take it all in. My teenagers certainly would not find that exciting, though my husband would be up for the adventure. But maybe this one is better for a solo jaunt, providing time to absorb and meditate on it all. To smell the fruit of the nearby orchards he mentioned in his writing. To inhabit the same swatch of beach, see the same view. Maybe something would rub off. Imagine if I could channel the great writer! Can we go now?
Excuse me, I need to go check the calendar. I’ve got a trip to book!
Read more:
Greece Stories: Meet My New Godson!
Love those moments of literary serendipity – a real travel highlight <3
😉