POSTCARD FROM | CABANA TRAVEL | WORLD OF CABANA
As Autumn gradually gives way to winter, even in the Greek Peloponnese, Kate Lough shares a postcard from the lesser-visited region of Arcadia, often overshadowed by the country's famous islands. Kate explores mountain villages, 16th century monasteries and a 1920s sanitorium turned tranquil retreat, discovering a quieter, no less charming, Greece.
BY KATE LOUGH | CABANA TRAVEL | 14 DECEMBER 2024
It was just after 8 o’clock in the morning. The sun peered over the mountain ridge, swimming through thick branches of fir tree and setting my terrace ablaze. It felt unfiltered and medicinal, in that idiosyncratic Greek way. Perking up with my first coffee, I mused on the origins of my current lodgings. Built in 1929 as a sanatorium— facing east, of course— for soldiers suffering from tuberculosis, it is immersed in the Arcadian forest of the central Peloponnese. And today, it is known as Manna.
It was my second stay at the hotel, shaped from grey limestone quarried on its native mountain, which took the best part of a decade to restore and reimagine. Upon arrival, the blue-eyed doorman, Dimitris, welcomed me back like a long lost granddaughter with a bear hug that lifted me off my feet. I joined weekenders from Athens and other visitors from further afield, all making the pilgrimage to Manna for some rest and recuperation — much like its former guests.
Autumn was slowly giving way to winter. The landscape cloaked in mist and fog, preparing for the long slumber ahead when heavy snow is expected, or longed for. Chestnuts carpeted the ground, truffles released their scent near ancient roots, and nearby mountain tavernas came into their own.
One such taverna is O Iosif in Magouliana. A favourite from last year’s visit, and a priority for this year’s. After hiking from Manna uphill through forest along the Menalon Trail, I was greeted with squeezing hugs by its owners Thanasis and Gianna. And quickly saddened to learn that their plump yellow labrador Jenny was no longer with them. I had so enjoyed — and envied — her method of keeping warm on the shelf beneath the outdoor oven, while her master cooked paidakia (lamb chops) for us over the open fire above. I insisted we order the lamb again, this time adding wild boar sausages to our hearty, wine-soaked order. As we left, begrudgingly, to make it back to Manna in the last of the afternoon light, I promised I would see them “same time, next year”.
The next day, after an early morning visit to a 16th century monastery, we drove to the pretty village of Vytina — making a beeline for the old stone tavern of Klimataria. The door opened to reveal the happy noise of Greek families, all peeling off layers of hiking clothes and crowding around well-worn wooden tables. I felt I had found a slice of the Alps in Greece. Fires toasted each of the dining rooms, and old family photographs on the walls whispered of its fast approaching century.
We ate manouri and mizithra baked with honey and sesame, goat slow cooked with olive and oregano, and a generous helping of hilopites (a traditional square pasta) topped with rooster steeped in tomato. We then made a feeble effort to walk it off by sticking our nose into the nearby bakaliko for bottles of Nemea red, honey and dried trachana to thicken our winter stews and soups back in the city.
As the light faded and the mercury dropped to freezing, it was our cue yet again to race back to Manna. To thaw out. First by the fire pit, cuddled by blankets and a mug of mountain tea. Next, by the gargantuan fire in the living room, with an Old Fashioned spiked with chestnut foam. If I am lucky enough to return again, I will add the soon-to-arrive forest sauna to my evenings-holed-up-at-Manna schedule.
Mostly, this blissful period of time was set aside for marvelling at the surrounding Arcadian landscape, which is as mythical as it is beautiful. It is where the god Pan is said to have made mischief with his nymphs; while a newborn Zeus is said to have been given his first hair wash in the Lousios, the icy river which gurgles not far away.
The region’s myths are also the inspiration for all the artworks commissioned by Manna’s owner and creative brains, Stratis Batayias, from Greek or Greece-based artists. A clay totem by French ceramicist Diane Alexandre lends magic reception, while weaver Maria Sigma’s wall hangings soften the grand proportions of its hallway and dining room. One of her works, the designer told me, is named Apricity. Meaning the warmth of the sun in winter. How very perfect, I thought. How very Arcadia. How very Manna.
Kate Lough is a freelance travel writer and editor, based between Athens and London | You can follow her on Instagram @kateloughstudio
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