Meteora: Monasteries in the sky worthy of gods and Hollywood

KALAMBAKA, Greece – The one question I kept asking myself when I looked at the extraordinary, surreal sight of Meteora’s heaven-licking monasteries, wasn’t …

• … how can they live in such isolation atop those high cliffs?
• … how did they possibly build monasteries on towers of rock?
• … do they ever get tired of the spectacular views of the mountains and valleys of Northern Greece?

No. None of those first came to mind as I stood on the side of the road and looked at these structures hanging off the sides of 1,300-foot sandstone pinnacles as if suspended in air. It was …

… what if they fall?

I mean, where is their god then?

None has. As far as anyone knows, none of the monks who have populated these monasteries since the 14th century took a wrong turn at an altar and plunged 1,000-2,000 feet to their death. People would’ve talked. 

Maybe there is a god after all.

Meteora is one of the most astonishing natural wonders of the world. Being an atheist, I chalk it up more to a weird geological hiccup than God creating a platform for monks to be closer to Him. I do admit, looking at the six monasteries scattered atop various rock towers, the monks do seem like they’re a quick commuter flight to heaven.

I could see why “Game of Thrones” and the 1981 James Bond thriller, “For Your Eyes Only,” filmed scenes here.

Greece does so many things well. Beaches. Salads. Ouzo. But Greece is really world class when it comes to monasteries. Last month I went to what many call “The Holiest Place on Earth” when I visited Mt. Athos, a collection of 22 gorgeous monasteries on a peninsula hanging off the northeast coast of Greece.

The next day I went west to Greece’s other holy center. Meteora, a UNESCO World Heritage Site since 1988, is much less exclusive than Mt. Athos. Mt. Athos only allows 110 permits a day – and none go to women, who are viewed as distractions to the monks since they haven’t seen a shaved leg since they arrived. Mt. Athos has no Internet. One must spend the night in the port town of Ouranoupoli before taking an early ferry down the coast.

You can see Meteora even by hitchhiking. It’s off a major road. By noon, so many tour buses jam the sides of the road it looks like the Vatican on a holiday. But when I got out of the bus and stared out at the world-famous, eye-popping landscape, I didn’t think “Holy place.”

I thought “Holy shit!”

The journey

Travelers from around the world gathered in Thessaloniki’s Aristotelous Plaza in front of the statue of Eleftherios Venizelos, a leader in the Greek national liberation movement and an eight-time prime minister from 1910-1933.

We packed the bus for the 238-kilometer (140-mile) ride southwest of Greece’s second-largest city. On a cold, rainy day in the high 40s, I noticed some of the cars in downtown Thessaloniki had snow on them. I soon found out why.

About an hour out of Thessaloniki, curving down the North Adriatic, we passed Mount Olympus. Snow still covered the majestic 7,720-foot (2,353-meter) mountain, mythical home of the Greek gods and where Alexander the Great made sacrifices to Zeus before he pillaged Persians.

We passed a 12th century castle the Nazis used as a defense post in World War II and went through the town of Larissa where Hippocrates, the “Father of Medicine” and writer of the Hippocratic Oath, died in 370 B.C.

Yes, as road trips go, this beat traversing Nebraska.

 Meteora geology

How did Meteora form into one of the strangest oddities on Earth? During prehistoric times, a huge lake covered this entire area. About 60 million years ago, a series of earthquakes made the lake disappear and pushed the seabed upward. They created a high plateau with numerous fault lines in the layers of sandstone.

Rain, wind and extreme temperatures through time turned the vertical faults into huge pillars. What has confused geologists for centuries, however, is these pillars are contained in just a confined area around the town of Kalambaka (pop. 11,500).

It didn’t confuse the Eastern Orthodox monks. They saw the lofty perches as perfect places for worship, terrified construction workers be damned. The first monastery was built in the 14th century when a monk from Mount Athos, Athanasios Koinovitis, took some fellow monks to the area.

Hmm, the monks thought. If we build a monastery atop that 450-meter rock, the evil Ottomans can’t invade us from the sea. We’ll be above their politics and have complete control and security of the monastery. We’ll just have to bring a long ladder. We’ll carry it inside when we’re not using it.

The Ottomans can stick this rock pillar up their water pipe.

After they built the Monastery of Great Meteoron, other monks followed. Soon, 24 monasteries appeared in the area. Building them required long ladders latched together and large nets that hauled up materials, goods and people. According to legend, the ropes were replaced only “when the Lord let them break.”

During the Ottoman Dynasty that didn’t end until 1922, these monasteries kept the Greek culture alive and Meteora remains the most holy place in Greece after Mt. Athos.

Only six monasteries remain today and are open to the public. We visited two.

Varlaam

The bus let us out at a rocky plateau where numerous monasteries could be seen in the distance. They looked like bird houses hanging on rock skyscrapers. After we poured out of the bus to take selfies, group shots and videos, the bus took us to the entrance to the second largest monastery.

Varlaam was built in 1517. It was abandoned after 200 years but rebuilt in 1715. How hard was it to rebuild atop a 373-meter cliff? It took 22 years to transfer construction materials to the site.

The reconstruction took 20 days.

Varlaam sits atop a pile of giant rock slabs. Atop the stone structure is a big white cross and giant Greek flag. Inside is a pleasant, modern-looking courtyard with wooden fences and small trees. Two eight-sided towers stick up from it all.

Wooden benches are scattered about to take in the stupendous view of surrounding cliffs and deep, green valleys.

I walked into one of the chapels to hear Gregorian chants. Beautiful frescoes adorned the walls. Near the entrance one of the monks was holding court. It’s strictly forbidden to photograph monks in Greek monasteries but chatting with them is fine. The monks even seem to like it.

Father Serafin’s long gray beard looked as old as his actual age of 59. He has lived at Varlaam for 13 years. Through an interpreter sitting at his side, I asked him what it’s like to live here.

“It’s a different way of living outside materialism, or living for money and glory,” he said. “Even the spiritual fights, to fight all the sins inside, by the grace of God, it’s a good thing. It makes it easier. It’s why we sacrifice all previous stuff. We’re able to pray more.”

He was raised in Karditsa, about 55 kilometers (30 miles) south of Kalambaka, and I asked what led him to this life of isolation.

“I chose to sacrifice all my life,” he said. “It enabled me to have a better relationship with Christ. It’s easy here in the monastery. It’s like driving a safer path. Outside there are more temptations.”

I looked around and a small gathering of tourists had surrounded us, listening. Then he asked me a question.

“Do you believe in God?” he asked.

I gave him standard response: “For me to believe in one god is to say all the other gods don’t exist. And I’m not telling 1.2 billion Hindus they’re wrong.”

“But Mohammed and Shiva didn’t tell their people they were God,” he said. “They were sent by God. They were disciples of God.”

“Do you accept other beliefs?”

“All people are free to believe,” he said. “They’re free to choose to accept as faith or have doubt.”

He then asked me to promise to say a short prayer every day. Fortunately, I had to rush and catch the bus before I said he sounded like an American Republican after another school shooting.

Roussanou

We drove down the hill to our next monastery. Roussanou was named after the first monk who settled on the rock in the 14th century and in the 16th century, three levels were built.

The single building perched atop the pinnacle looks as if it was carved out of the rock instead of built atop it. However, it is only 140 steps to reach the monastery, less than half the 300 required to see others.

Roussanou was the first monastery where I saw nuns. In 1988 it converted into a convent and 15 sisters work and live here. Still, women travelers not in skirts were given makeshift wraparounds to wear inside. Modesty still has a place.

The monastery was reconstructed in 1918 and damaged during World War II but the repair was superb. Inside the cathedral, designed by a resident monk, features a beautiful, brightly colored mural with medical motifs. Over the centuries, many Greeks came to monasteries for medical help.

The adjoining chapel was tiny and dark. The only light came from the penlights from the incense burners that hung everywhere. 

While Roussanou is at a lower elevation, the little windows inside still provided great views of other rock towers and the valleys beyond. I also noticed that while each monastery required a €5 entry fee, none had schlocky souvenir stands to spoil the authenticity.

After descending, we maneuvered around fat, stray cats eating food given by tourists and monks to enter the bus. We stopped in Kalambaka at Meteoron Panorama, which has been serving traditional Greek dishes with even more delicious views for 30 years.

Recovering from a slight flu bug, I only nibbled on a Greek salad and sipped a Mythos beer in a frozen mug while staring out at the village and surrounding mountains. Did I feel more spiritual? No. Did I feel any more convinced of the existence of God? No.

But just as in Mt. Athos, I had more respect for monks who dedicate their lives in such isolation, sacrificing so much for a faith only they and their followers can appreciate. Then again, their views are good. So is their balance.

If you like scenery, Meteora is about as close to heaven as you’re going to get.

If you’re thinking of going …

How to get there: Yes, you can conceivably hitchhike. But it’s better to rent a car. Better yet, to avoid the parking hassle on the narrow road, take a tour. I went with Viator, a Massachusetts-based tour company with trips all over the world. I paid $63 for an all-day tour, not including lunch.

Where to stay: Melandros Downtown, 30-697-483-4697, https://www.skyscanner.qa/hotels/greece/thessaloniki-hotels/maiandros-explore-center-by-foot-close-to-aristotelous-square/ht-212884197, 53 Ayiou, Thessaloniki. This is a one-bedroom apartment in the center of Thessaloniki. I didn’t actually stay here. Due to a plumbing issue, they upgraded me to a much larger, beautifully decorated apartment. They charged me the same €321 for the three nights as the smaller place.

Where to eat: Meteoron Panorama, Kalambaka, 30-243-207-8128, www.meteoronpanorama.gr, info@meteoronpanorama.gr, noon-11 p.m. All the traditional Greek dishes at reasonable prices with outdoor seating and great panoramic views of the countryside. I paid €17.50 for a Greek salad and a beer.

When to go: Avoid July and August. The rocks absorb heat, making the hikes to the monasteries torturous. It is also packed. Even on a cold, windy day in early April, the road around Meteora was jammed with tour buses.

For more information: Tourist Information Centre Kalambaka, Vlachava 1, Kalambaka, 30-243-235-0245, https://www.infotouristmeteora.gr, info@infotouristmeteora.gr, 8:30 a.m.-8:30 p.m. Monday-Friday, 9 a.m.-4 p.m. Saturday-Sunday.