Kalabaka wasn’t only awesome because of the Meteora monasteries, but also because we finally made it to a vibey fun hostel and made some proper friends. It seems to be the kinda thing you catch a vibe for nearly straight away in a hostel, how friendly it is. Basically, if someone says more than hello to you in the first half hour, you’re in luck for a mate. In Kalabaka? We had some really good luck. New friends led to good fun, so here’s a recap from one of my best travel memories yet:
Almost as soon as we arrived to our hostel, we quickly met another Kiwi gal. Funny how no matter far away from NZ you get, we still pop up everywhere. Then an Aussie barged in on our very east Tasman conversation. Poor bugger had just come off his rental moped that afternoon, and was sporting some trademark Aussie tourist road rash. Then we met a bloke from England and another fella from Paris. Finally, a Canadian chap walked in and suggested we might all go for a walk up the hill to watch the sun set over the monasteries. When in Rome right?
With all of our rubber arms quite confidently twisted, we set off for the top of the hill. Turns out, our new Canadian friend was one of the most sun smart people I have ever met. As the sun was setting and we were sweating our way up this hill, the legend was in long trousers, a jacket and a very liberal coating of sunscreen. I greatly admired his dedication to slip, slop, slap, and wrap. Not only that, but he was highly concerned about our levels of hydration while walking, as many of us had selected a few beersies as the drink of choice on the road to the sunset lookout. It was all very Canadian and polite of him to look out for us like that, and I liked him instantly. I liked him even more once I found out he was an archeology and linguistics student; he was an absolute wealth of knowledge on all matters concerning the history of the various historical eras and ruins. Definitely the kinda person you wanna make friends with while you explore a historically rich region.
Milly got to work breaking the frog down with casual icebreakers like, ‘How long have you been travelling?’ and, ‘What are your thoughts on the burkha ban?’ Seemed to work a charm though, cause he was eager enough to express his opinion on any volatile topic Milly could throw at him, and we quickly became friends.
By the time our ragtag bunch reached the top of this hill, the sun was starting to set, and we had a really wholesome moment yarning away to a new group of friends, watching sundown with some cold beers over some stunning scenery (plus Ben did a shoey which everyone loved). Really set the standard for what was to come in town.
So we have these great new friends, we have a rental car, and we’re in a stunning new location keen to explore. Obviously the logical thing to do is go see the sights together. So we packed 7 people into our little Citröen hatchback and set off for some prehistoric caves in the area. Our new Canadian friend, who is quite tall, found a seat lying on top of the three sitting on the back bench, and naturally someone was in the boot. We rotated to make sure the boot person got enough air :)). We all had a hoot of a time, seeing seven people climb out of a little clown car will never fail to be hilarious. The only issue we had was our little 1.2 L french car definitely didn’t love lugging that much cargo around all the steep mountain hair pins, but that’s what I love about rental cars. Not my clutch, not my problem!
After visiting the cave, and spending a day scorching in the greek sun, we collectively decided we absolutely needed a swim. Canada had sadly had to catch his bus out of town by this stage and we were down to 6. We had found a waterfall on the map that looked like an awesome spot to swim, so with frenchy in the boot and five kiwis up front we headed for the hills. We mused on the drive that if we got pulled over on the way we’d look like some weird Rainbow Warrior revenge group. He was actually well looked after back there though, and by the time we pulled up at the supposed waterfall spot he’d even fallen asleep (a testament to my incredible manual driving and pothole avoidance).
The waterfall was unfortunately nowhere to be found. Though still early in the season, the river was completely dry, and there was only a rockfall. No matter! There was a river nearby, apparently used for rafting which had to mean it was deep and fresh enough for a swim, so in we climbed and off we went. Alas, the river only yielded more disappointment. Although it did actually exist, the hot weather had reduced its level to barely ankle high, and it was fugly brown colour. None of us were very keen to get in, so we made the very brave decision to look somewhere else and move on again. For our third attempt at a swim, we abandoned the all natural approach and pulled up at a public swimming pool. From outside we could see hydroslides and diving platforms, and we all started foaming at the mouth as we found a park and walked in. To our absolute dismay, we were yet again disappointed, as we had arrived too early in the season and the pools hadn’t been filled yet.
Getting desperate, we found a hotel not far away that advertised a pool on their website we thought we might be allowed to swim in. Again, kiwis in the front, parisian in the boot, we headed off. Pulling up at the hotel, we made the excellent decision to send the girls in to ask if we could swim before we unpacked everyone. Milly and Annabel returned with good and bad news: yes, we could use the pool, but only for the generous price of 10 euro a head. We were so sweaty at this point and had invested so much energy into a swim, we just took it on the chin and accepted it as the price for a much needed dip. It appeared to be a really flash hotel, so we figured it would be worth it.
However, after we opened the boot and let him climb out, frenchy told us he didn’t really need a swim, and he was just gonna walk back to town. He later told us he was just so embarrassed at climbing out the back of a car in front of the posh hotel receptionists that he couldn’t bring himself to walk in. We must have made quite the sight too! The thought of two young women asking if their friends could have a swim before three more sweaty backpackers get out of the car to let a fourth guy out of the boot, only for him to immediately walk off! Doing so in full view of the swanky hotel reception only made it more hilarious. As we went up to pay the receptionist, her polite smile soured spectacularly when we asked to pay by card. We reckoned she was 100% waiting for us to hand over a crisp 50 euros that would go straight into her back pocket instead of through the books.
Stifling yet another laugh, we went down the stairs, walked through the equally-fancy restaurant, and finally burst out into absolute hysterics as we saw the pool. We had humiliated ourselves in the carpark, vastly overpaid and annoyed the woman with the entry fee, and now we stood before a very humble, backyard-sized pool that was full of dead bugs. We completely lost it. I don’t think I’ve laughed that hard in my entire life. Even once we had gotten changed and in the water we were still in fits. After about 20 minutes of sore tummies and tears (and probably pissing off most of the rich elderly patrons in the pool area) we finally relaxed as we realised it had all been worth it.
Though the thought of paying 100 NZD for five mates to go for a swim is criminal, once we were in, the water was a salve for the hot sun, the view from the pool was a bucket-list worthy sight, and we’d had the same amount of laughs you’d get at a comedy show. So overall? An unforgettable experience with a new kiwi mate for only 20 bucks a head?
Priceless.
