Where do you go in Greece when you need to go north to be close to the train station so someone can get to Thessaloniki, but also go south to be close enough to drive back to Athens the day after? Wherever the Airbnb is cheapest, of course!
That’s how we ended up in Koutsoupia. You probably haven’t heard of it- we certainly hadn’t. It’s one of those tiny coastal towns that is next to a marginally larger town, so you just say you’re going to the larger place because the town you’re actually going to isn’t on the map. And I mean seriously tiny. If you were just driving through, you’d be in and out within about 30 seconds.
We didn’t have long in Koutsoupia, so we immediately went exploring, aiming for some swimming hole Sam had found that was supposed to be at the base of a waterfall. It was only about 10 km away, but took nearly 40 minutes, as the drive was incredibly adventurous for a little hatchback rental car. I’m talking river crossings (trickles), chasm crossings (medium potholes), and big boulders (slightly larger gravel pieces) to manoeuvre around. In all seriousness though, it was a pretty gnarly gravel road, and I was super impressed with our little rental car, it took it like a champ.
Arriving at the spot on the map, all we could see was a cliff of huge boulders that had fallen from the mountain. There was no waterfall in sight, or to be heard. This was expected, as we’d heard it was a short walk and was hard to find. Surveying the scene, we saw a rope strung up as a hand rail leading across a steel pipe bridge. There looked to be more of these bridge things further up, so we figured it must be the path. It seemed okay from afar but the pipe was covered in water and extremely slippery, as well as being angled upwards very steeply. With just a flimsy rope to hold on to, and a 4 metre drop to rocks beneath the pipe, we searched for another way.
After some scanning, next to the pipe, almost blending into the sheer rock face we found some steel rungs bolted into the cliff. It formed a sort of sketchy ladder/rock climb up to the next platform we could see. It was a bit sketchy but we made it up, only to be stopped by another climb. Locating another set of steel rungs, we sent Ben to scout ahead. He made it up the next pitch, before he found a ladder lying on the ground next to a large boulder we clearly needed to get on top of. Score! Except… the ladder was bikelocked to the ground. We searched for another while, but couldn’t see any other safe way up these massive slippery boulders, plus we still couldn’t hear or see any waterfalls, so we descended again to reassess.
Definitely felt like a slippery obstacle course
While Milly, Ben and I were cosplaying Alex Honnold, Sam had done the smart thing and investigated another option. While us others were humming and haaing about what to do and whether the waterfall even existed, we heard Sam whoop from way up the hill. He came back to collect us, and showed us the steep, very hidden path he’d bush-bashed his way through.
After a 10 minute scramble up the side of the cliff and around the rockslide we finally caught sight of Kalypso’s waterfall. Gorgeous clear mountain water, collecting into a deep, blue pool underneath. All tucked away in what felt like some super secret corner of Greece that you needed to be part of some exclusive adventurers club to find. Maybe I’m exaggerating, but it was one of the coolest, least accessible, off-the-beaten-path kinda finds ever. The reward for the climb was an ice cold dip in the refreshing water. It was the alpine sort of water that gives you a brain freeze if you put your head under, and makes your hands hurt after a while. In short, a total wake up call and wicked fun.
Post waterfall was bittersweet, as we went for a delicious pizza dinner to celebrate Sam’s last day travelling and the wicked month we had together. It all ended as quickly as it hard started, as we dropped him at the train station and said our good byes. With that, we were down to three.
Wondering what to do with ourselves, we followed a sign that lead to ‘Theatre of Tempi’ on our way back to the AirBnb. We were all expecting another ruins of yet another ancient amphitheater, but it was actually a relatively new, very functional, very modern concrete outdoor amphitheater. Not the archeological site we had hoped for, but there were two ladies out the front who waved us over. We introduced ourselves (the usual “Wow, New Zealand! Such a long way!”), and they told us they were actually setting up for a show that night. One woman was the playwright and director, and the other was part of the cast. It was a new play about the Tempi train disaster, a horrific accident that happened in 2023, when a passenger train collided head on with freight train due to mistakes and negligence. It had killed 57 people, mostly young students on their way back from university break, injuring many more. They were in town for the show since the tragedy had occurred in the local area, not far from the station where we had just watched Sam get on his train.
The women told us they play was a memorial for those who lost their lives, and served as part of a larger ongoing series of protests, vigils and strikes to condemn the unsafe conditions that lead to the crash and to demand accountability from those responsible. The aftermath of the crash had whipped up protests throughout Greece and even Europe as a whole, to bring the government that had failed to act on repeated warnings of poor management and safety standards to account.
With the promise of traditional music and theatre, with a backpacker-pleasing entry cost of zero, it was too good an opportunity to miss. After a relaxing afternoon at the accom, we made our way back to the theatre, where we were greeted like royalty. Either the women we’d met didn’t think we’d show (even though we’d very enthusiastically agreed to come), or they were just happy for fodder in the audience. Regardless, there was much handwaving, loud rapid fire Greek to one another and we were proudly introduced to several people in the production crew. There was cheek kisses, much shoulder touching, and some of the most heartwarming, genuine hospitality I’ve ever felt. It almost felt like we’d already finished the show, and we had been the main characters.
We learned from another local that the local area was cursed in mythology, and it seemed to produce creepy coincidences. If you’ve read Milly’s post on nearby Delphi, you will be familiar with the myth that says after the god Apollo had slain the Python of Delphi to make Delphi the seat of his oracular power, he was punished for the murder and made to bathe in the river in the Valley of Tempe to purify himself again. There are many different versions of the myth, but the local version is that the spirit of Python still resides in Tempe, cursing the land. The curse is said to claim the lives of young people every year in the spring. As it happens, there have been several major incidents involving young people in the Tempe area, and creepily they often occurred in the spring. The train accident occurred on the 28th of Feb, the very last day of winter before spring arrives properly. Another example was in April of 2003, when 21 students were killed when their school bus collided with a truck in Tempe. We all got a shiver down our spine.
With our nerves sufficiently tingling, we found a seat and waited for the show to start. It was obviously in greek, so we couldn’t really understand what was happening, but we kinda got the gist just by watching the actors. However, the ‘reenactment’ part of the play only lasted about 20-30 minutes, and the next hour and a bit was mostly chanting, poetry and singing. The lack of explicit acting meant we couldn’t get the full depth of the narrative but the actors made it powerful nonetheless. Even without the understanding, we were blown away at the power and rawness the actors were conveying. The music was especially lovely, and had been newly composed for the production. Overall, it was clear just how dedicated the Greeks are to their theatre and music, having had millennia of development. Having seen a real one now, the phrase ‘Greek tragedy’ carries significantly more weight with me. Definitely go see one if you get the opportunity.
Having dropped Sam off, and with heartstrings tugged, our time in Koutsoupia ended. We left the next morning on the long drive back to Athens, the start of the end of our time in Greece.