It's a risky claim. And actually, we were there on a semi cloudy day. But Meteora is a unique geological event, with a unique sunset, in contrast to the classic apricot sun sinking into the Aegean postcard sunsets. Perfect as they are, we've got these all over the place- they're like sweet tomatoes in July. So the Best Sunset in Greece is in majestic Meteora, a phenomenal place to be at any time of the day.
A group of friends and I (Travel Bloggers Greece) have been invited to write about the beauties of the region. Our hosts- Meteora Thrones Tours- have a sunset tour. This makes sense- our guide grew up here and knows how the light plays over every facet of the rocks throughout the day. It turn out that stone mountains that have stood here tens of millions of years are as changeable and dynamic as the seas.
The views on the way up are fantastic- much of Meteora is best seen from the road and the walls of our bus are entirely of glass. We come to a meadow and walk to the cliff face. A flock of crows fills the sky and then we come to them- straight up are the most rudimentary of shelters- for nearly a thousand years, and until relatively recently (just 200 years ago), these were the cave dwellings of hermits.
They would live decades on the sparest of diets, an unchanging view, and without ever seeing a human face, crows such as fly overhead now their only company. In the ever sweetening light of late afternoon, we visit the convent of St. Stephen.
Women were not permitted in Meteora until the 1950's. Then a monastery caught fire, all the men were faraway in the fields, and the women of the village saved it from burning. Women are welcome since then, and a few years after that, nuns were granted St. Stephen (Of the 12 monasteries thriving in the beginning of the Ottoman empire, several had been abandoned over the years). With so many nuns (42- one of the monasteries has but a single monk), this is one of the most vibrant of the monasteries we visit. The nuns are multi-lingual, articulate, gracious- and we leave there well-informed thanks to their openness. We had the opportunity to muse on the expressions of spirituality- the severe isolation of the hermits, the convivial serenity of the nuns. The sunset unexpectedly followed these same thoughts.
They would live decades on the sparest of diets, an unchanging view, and without ever seeing a human face, crows such as fly overhead now their only company. In the ever sweetening light of late afternoon, we visit the convent of St. Stephen.
Women were not permitted in Meteora until the 1950's. Then a monastery caught fire, all the men were faraway in the fields, and the women of the village saved it from burning. Women are welcome since then, and a few years after that, nuns were granted St. Stephen (Of the 12 monasteries thriving in the beginning of the Ottoman empire, several had been abandoned over the years). With so many nuns (42- one of the monasteries has but a single monk), this is one of the most vibrant of the monasteries we visit. The nuns are multi-lingual, articulate, gracious- and we leave there well-informed thanks to their openness. We had the opportunity to muse on the expressions of spirituality- the severe isolation of the hermits, the convivial serenity of the nuns. The sunset unexpectedly followed these same thoughts.
The shadows are lengthening in the valley below, and we have the shortest of drives to the top of a cliff, terrifyingly high, but a ground rough and secure under our feet, large enough to spread out and enjoy a sense of solitude and contemplation. We do, briefly, but then get caught up in taking pictures of the view to share, and of each other,
and of each other taking pictures of the view (after all, we are travel bloggers, not hermits).
The beauty of it all brings us together; this is a sunset you want to ooh and ah over- you want to have friends to share it with. On the shelf of the cliff below, students have come with a picnic and beers to watch the gold and purple deepening, the green valley dizzyingly far below, the Pindos mountains white with snow in the distance.
This is a sunset that's not so much about the sun as about the planet- earth has never looked more exotic than it does from up here. And it also ends up being more about community than it does about solitude.
and of each other taking pictures of the view (after all, we are travel bloggers, not hermits).
The beauty of it all brings us together; this is a sunset you want to ooh and ah over- you want to have friends to share it with. On the shelf of the cliff below, students have come with a picnic and beers to watch the gold and purple deepening, the green valley dizzyingly far below, the Pindos mountains white with snow in the distance.
This is a sunset that's not so much about the sun as about the planet- earth has never looked more exotic than it does from up here. And it also ends up being more about community than it does about solitude.
We dined very happily at Taverna Gardenia that night- classic food, nice wine, and an enormous mulberry tree outside. We talked about Meteora- history, nature, and, of course, the sunset.
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