Pillars in the Sky: Meteora

The monoliths jut forth from the earth as some type of interstellar phenomenon–sheer rock, gray, and utterly barren. Bereft of even a sliver of living greenery, it seems impossible that life could exist in this stone forest. But it does. Since the 11th century, Meteora has been a haven of monasteries, retreats and hermit caves for Orthodox monks.1 The name Metéora (Greek: Μετέωρα) can be translated as: “suspended rocks”, “suspended in the air” or “in the heavens above”. Built on the pinnacles of the pillars, Meteora draws people worldwide. Next to Athens, it is the second most visited site in Greece.

Panoramic view of Meteora from my hotel balcony in Kalambaka

Nestled in the plains of historic Thessaly, Meteora is a phenomenon of nature. The area is mentioned in the writings of Homer and other classical historians. “Fine mosaics, coins, inscriptions, vessels, sarcophagi and small works of art…dating from the Roman period have been found.”2

The plain of Thessaly as seen from the cliffs of Meteora

Monks built monasteries on top of the rock formations in order to be closer to God. The earliest monks lived as hermits in caves, which still are visible in the forbidding rock. How they ascended, descended and maintained life in that environment is one of the marvels of human determination.

Hermit caves appear as holes in the rocks

There are six monasteries that are active today and open to the public: The Transfiguration, St. Varlaam, Holy Trinity, St. Stephen the Protomartyr, St. Nicholas Anapafsas and Rousanou. Sixteen others are currently uninhabited and in partial ruins. I booked guided tours for Saturday evening and Sunday morning, visiting three monasteries during each excursion. These are beautiful complexes with gardens, churches and libraries. Although the tour bus drops us off at the entrance, there are long walks up steep paths and many steps to reach the front door of the monasteries–one had 115 steps and another had 325!

Monastery of St. Stephen, built in the year 1192
Holy Trinity Monastery, featured in the 1981 James Bond film,”For Your Eyes Only”

The first buildings in the monastery complexes were built at various times, from the 11th to the 15th centuries.3 As more monks came to Meteora monasteries, additional buildings were added to the complexes. To build the earliest churches, monks carried supplies on their backs while scaling the rocks. Our tour guide explained that one solitary monk carried materials on his back for 27 years!

Varlaam Monastery
The Great Meteoron Monastery. Notice the cable car in the middle of the rock

To haul materials, food, water and people, a system of pulleys and ropes was devised. Rope baskets, also known as net bags or “kouvouklia,” were the most efficient method of transporting necessities–and people–from the valley. Rickety wood ladders were also devised and used. Later, metal crates replaced the net bags. Today, goods are transported by vehicles.

Pulleys, ropes, baskets and crates enabled the monks to be supplied with necessities

The monasteries’ gardens were filled with brilliant flowers, beautiful horticultural designs and bounteous vegetables.

Gardens of St. Stephen (top) and St. Barbаra Roussanоu (bottom)

Meals were prepared in kitchens such as the one below in the Great Meteoron Monastery.

Utensils in the Great Meteoron Monastery kitchen

Each monastery is uniquely different in design, layout and topography. The exterior courtyards and alleys are meticulously maintained. There are cupolas and outdoor shrines. Splashes of color from flowerpots and paintings bring relief to the starkness of the stone buildings and backdrops.

Outdoor features add color to the stone backdrops
Each monastery is unique in form and design

The monk population has fluctuated over the past 100 years. Some monasteries have just a couple of monks in residence; others have more. Their living quarters are plain, and their earthly possessions few–limited to some clothing and books. I cracked open a door to snap these photos.

Typical Monk Bedroom; small and sparely furnished

Monastery complexes can have more than one church. The spectacular icons, murals and frescoes are vibrantly painted and depict scenes of Jesus Christ, His Apostles, events in their lives and in Christian history. The church interiors, whether large or small, are elaborate with sparkling, ornate crystal chandeliers and meticulously polished wood, gold, and brass.

Examples of some church interiors

At the Great Meteoron Monastery, I was thrilled to see an iconographer at work. His studio was small but well equipped. I was surprised that he had enough light with only one small window. Watching him craft the icons was fascinating.

An iconographer at his meticulous craft

Although all six monasteries had libraries, the Great Meteoron also housed a museum. Its historical codices, parchments and artifacts were breathtaking. They testify of the dedication of the monks in safeguarding items so precious to the Orthodox faith.

Photos surreptitiously taken; I simply could not resist!

Visiting the monasteries, exploring their libraries and museums, and learning of their histories enhanced my appreciation of those who have, and continue to, preserve the history of Orthodox Christianity. When I stepped inside these building that are hundreds of years old, a sense of permanence and timelessness swept over me. I understand how the faith of my ancestors kept them rooted and hopeful during their most difficult times. I am grateful they passed their faith in God to me.

If you get to Meteora, be sure to take the sunset tour. Seeing the monasteries silhouetted against the fading light will cement this experience into your soul. It will stay with you forever.


1A monk is a man who is a member of a religious order and voluntarily leaves a human community to lives in a monastery. There are some monasteries inhabited by females who are known as nuns.
2Provatakis, Theocharis M., Meteora, History of the Monasteries and Monasticism, page 10; Athens: Michalis Toubis Editions.
3Details about the six working monasteries can be found here.

A Chance(?) Encounter in Lagia

What are the chances that a document which reveals an abstract branch of your family is given to you by a stranger? That’s exactly what happened to me on my recent journey to visit the ghost town of Vathia.

There is only one road that connects Sparta with Mani. Much of it follows the seaside of the Laconian Gulf, traversing through quaint villages and along scenic coastlines.This was the only way for me to reach my destination.

I stayed overnight in a lovely renovated tower house in Kokkala. The sea view was spectacular and the architecture and history of the towers always captivate me. This was the perfect place to stop on this journey, to rest and to soak in the beauty of Mani.

Charming Kokkala

The next morning, I hit the road and with my sights set on Vathia. No stops were planned, and no side trips were considered. My focus was to spend as much time as possible in the ghost village, then return that night to Sparta. But along the way, I got sidetracked. About 1/2 hour south of Kokkala, I rounded a corner and there appeared a charming tower village nestled in the mountains. Lagia.

Approaching Lagia

I hopped out to take photos, thinking that I would just breeze through the village and keep going. But when the road led into the plateia, there was something about the village that enticed me to stop. I parked the car and started walking.

Views from the plateia of Lagia

The streets were deserted and the quiet of the village exuded a sense of tranquility. The imposing stone houses were of traditional Maniate style.

As is customary, the church, Koimisi tis Theotokou, was situated adjacent to the plateia. I went inside.

Koimisi tis Theotokou Church on the plateia
Church interior. I lit a candle for my ancestors (lower right)

My heart was touched when I read a sign that was posted on the small icon stand situated at the entrance. It read:

Welcome to the Holy Temple of our village “Lagia.”
Look around you and visualize freely the hard efforts of our ancestors,
within a rough place with different values, principles and under adverse conditions,
who managed to complete the construction of this gorgeous Church.
This Temple was constructed before 200 years with the full participation of the local men and women, with building materials gathered from the surrounding mountains of the village and carried on their backs and shoulders.
It was built with main purpose the reconciliation and peace between the families of the village, as during that period of time confrontations, conflicts, frictions, disputes, and vendettas dominated the area.
It replaced and gathered under its protection all the local family churches, at about 30 small and picturesque, which were scattered all around between alleys, traditional towers and fields.
Support warmly the effort for the continuation, conservation, preservation, improvement and progression of this harbour of Love, Hope and Faith.

I became emotional, and I still don’t know why these words penetrated so deeply into my soul. Was it was the message of reconciliation and the fervent desire for peace? Was it the unity of 30 disparate church communities? Was it the sacrifices and the physical toil of the people to build this temple? Whatever it was, I was transfixed by Lagia.

Cafenion, at the plateia

I was not ready to leave the village. As I walked around the plateia, I noticed three men sitting at a table at the cafenion. Normally I don’t start conversations with strangers, but something prompted me to do so this time. I said, in my very broken Greek, “You live in a beautiful village.” Their faces lit up, and the questions came: What is your name? Are you Greek? Where are your people from? When I told them that my family was from Sparta, the discussion grew quite animated. They asked for my surnames and as I responded, they commented on each one.

Kostakos? That name is found farther south, in Pakia (I knew that, but it’s a different family with the same patronymic surname).
Papagiannakos? Not in this village.
Eftaxias? That is an old family name found here.

That stopped me. I recalled that some years ago, my Eftaxias cousin in Mystras mentioned that there was a branch of the family in Lagia. Was it true? As my mind debated a possible connection, one of the men said, “We have a book inside that you should see.” He disappeared, then returned and handed me a spiral bound notebook.

The Male Register (Μιτώον Αρρένον) of Lagia, 1839-1888

I couldn’t believe what I was holding. It was the Male Register of Lagia, a list of every man born in the village during the years 1839-1888. I was given permission to photograph it, and I have made it available in a pdf file which can be downloaded here: Male Register of Lagia 1839-1888.

Year 1882, line 124
Eftaxias, Michail, father: Panagiotis, born in Lagia.

My cousin was correct. It was our family that was in this village. There was only one Eftaxias listed; he was found in the year 1882, line 124: Michail Panagiotis Eftaxias born in Lagia.

I am now able to correlate this family with previous but uncorrelated information found: Michalis Eftaxias from Lagia fought in the Revolution of 1821. He had a son named Vrettos, and Vrettos had two sons: Michalis (born 1826) and Panagiotis (born in 1832).1 Panagiotis, named above as the father of Michail, was the right age to be the son of Vrettos. With only one Eftaxias in the village, it had to be the same family. When I returned to Sparta, the Archive office gave me the Town Register for Eftaxias in Lagia which further documented this line.

I know that serendipitous things happen when you travel to the land of your ancestors and follow your instincts. Yet, whenever they do, I marvel that people are prompted to be in certain places, at certain times, to fulfill certain reasons. It is my hope that chance encounters, such as this, will also happen to you.


11875 Election Register of Lagia

Visiting the Villages: Theologos and the Zacharakis Reunion

The road leading to Theologos winds around a verdant mountain, filled with thousands of olive trees. “The trees on this mountain belong to the families of the village,” my cousin, Nikos explains. “Years ago [around the early 1900s], just a few families owned all of these trees. Now, every family has an olive grove.” I stared out the car window, looking for a some type of sign or marker to delineate one owner’s property from another. I saw none. So I asked, “How do the families know which trees are theirs?” Nikos smiled. “Every family known how many trees they have, and exactly where they are.”

At one time, there were two olive processing plants in this small village. In recent years when stricter safety regulations were passed, the facilities closed and people now take their harvest to Sparta.

Left: a former oil processing plant in Theologos; upper right: mountainside with the olive groves of Theologos; center: Dimos Οinountos, Theologou; bottom right: stone used in olive press

The homes of the families are constructed of stone, and they are literally built into the mountainside. Houses remain in families for generations. They are beautifully maintained and constantly being updated with modern conveniences. Living on a mountain means that there are steps everywhere, and they are steep! You can’t leave your house, or enter another, without walking up a flight. The village roads are precipitous and narrow, yet people are adept at maneuvering and parking their cars and trucks. The plateia appears to have the only flat surface in the village.

Houses, steps, and the flat plateia

The village priest, “Papa” Panagiotis Kotsos, presides over the church of Agios Ioannis Theologos. It is incredibly beautiful and filled with historic icons. I was honored to be shown several holy relics, too sacred to photograph. It’s amazing that a small village church at the top of a mountain would have such treasures.

The Church of Agios Ioannis Theologos and its priest, “Papa” Panagiotis Kotsos

What I love most about returning to the village is to gather with my cousins of the Zacharakis family. My great-grandmother, Stathoula Zacharakis, was born in Theologos1. As I researched her lineage, I created a family tree which documents the various branches of the family. Whenever I visit, I bring the “updated” Zacharakis tree which is spread out along the benches at the perimeter of the plateia. People add and correct information, and we enjoy an evening of reunion and reminiscing. It has become a joyful tradition.

Checking out the family tree! June 23, 2023
Back left-right: Antonios Karagiannis, Aggelos Sarantakis, Niki Zacharakis Sarantakis, Asimina Zacharakis, Pepi Vartsaki Zacharakis, Nikos Zacharakis, Panagiota Zacharakis. Front left-right: Ioanna Karagiannis, Panagiotis Karagiannis, Argyro Bebetsos, Anthi Karagiannis, Lygeri Zacharakis Zacharakis, Anastasia Kantzioris, Rozi Kritsepis Zacharakis, John Rakis, Carol Kostakos Petranek, Alexandra Rakis, Konstantina Dariotis Zacharakis, Roula Zacharakis, Pavlos Zacharakis, Amalia Iliopoulos Zacharakis

I love these dear people and am so very grateful for their kinship and friendship. Being together in an ancestral village brings a feeling of generational connectedness. Our ancestors walked these streets, built the churches, and gathered in the plateia. Now it is our turn.


1Previous Spartan Roots posts about the Zacharakis family:
Stories from the Village: Theologos
Putting Together the Zacharakis Family Tree
The Zacharakis Family of Theologos
Greece 2017. Part Six: Theologos
Ioannis Zacharakis, Hero from Theologos

Visiting the Villages: Vathia

Pirates and invaders. Warring clans. Fortified towers. The legends of Vathia are captivating and plunge you into an era of the past. Vathia was built as a fortress to protect its families from hostile attacks. A sign in the midst of this “ghost village” alludes to its history:

My first introduction to the tower villages of Mani was in 2014 when Giannis Michalakakos took Gregory Kontos and me to Vathia. My fascination has not waned, but accelerated. It’s not only the architecture, but also the stories, myths, customs, and traditions of this land that captivate my imagination.

My ancestors were from Mani, as reflected in their surnames and in family stories. Their genesis in this region and their migration north began before the revolution of 1821, as they are in Agios Ioannis, Sparta in the 1844 Election Registers. Because records prior to the Revolution do not exist in the modern Greek state, I cannot trace where, in Mani, they originated. However, every time I come to this region, I feel a metaphysical connection to this land and to them.

The tower houses of Vathia are classic Maniot fortification architecture

These tower houses are owned by families. The size of the tower demonstrated the family’s wealth and standing in the community. They are built close to each other, with small alleys as separations. Most of them are square with two or three floors. The windows are just large enough for guns and armaments to protrude outwards in times of defense. The inhabitants of Mani are legendary for fiercely resisting foreign invasions. They maintained their independence for centuries.

The alleyways of Vathia

During the Ottoman period, Maniots continued to resist Ottoman rule. They preserved a degree of autonomy and the Ottoman beys (rulers) let them be. Maniots were known for their military acumen and martial skills, and their resistance played a significant role in the 1821 War of Independence. As with all Greek villages, monuments to the fallen are found in the plateia, across from the church.

Monument photos courtesy of Nick Santas, whose great-grandfather, Panagiotis Laos, is listed

Names on the War Monument
Top:
Georgakakos, Antonios
Georgakakos, Petros
Exarchakos, Panagiotis
Laos, Panagiotis
Kallidonis, Petros
Lagoudakos, Nikolaos
Feidopiastis, Fotios
Gerakakos, Stavros
Gerakakos, Nikolaos
Lagoudakos, Panagiotis
Syggikos, Petros
Bottom:
Anaroutsakos, Spyros
Mitsakos, Ioannis
Stravokefalos, Michail
Andreakos, Nikolaos
Xypolitos, Michail
Xypolitos, Panagiotis
Kallidonis, Leonidas
Aggelakos, Aristeidis
Xypolitos, Vasileios
Giannakakos, Panagiotis
Koutrigaros, Antonios

Maniot families evolved from clans which controlled various regions. There are many stories written about the loyalty and protection that clans provided for their families. Conflicts between clans were common, and some clan wars continued for years. This article provides historical background and names of the clans of Vathia.

Bright spots of color amidst the stone towers

After Greece gained independence from the Ottomans in 1830, Vathia, like other parts of Mani, experienced a decline in its strategic importance. The tower houses gradually lost their defensive purpose and many fell into disrepair. Around 1950, after World War II and the Greek Civil War, families left rural areas to reestablish themselves in urban areas where economic opportunities existed. People abadoned their tower homes for Kalamata, Sparta, and Piraeus. By 1960-1970, the village was deserted.

I asked my friend, Giannis Michalakakos, local historian and author of the Maniatika blog, if the tower houses would ever be restored, especially with the current surge in tourism that Mani is experiencing. His answers helped me understand both the complexities of this issue and the culture of the society.

Homes are primarily abandoned because of financial considerations:
• It was common for many members of a family (cousins) to have partial ownership in a tower; sometimes as many as 40!
• If many parties had an interest in a house, and one person wanted to be the sole owner, he would have to have enough money to buy out all the other parties.
• If a person wanted to restore an abandoned home, he may have to buy out others who would have to agree to sell it, AND spend a lot of money to refurbish the home. Therefore, if financial matters were a concern, it is easier to just abandon a home than to deal with ownership and renovation issues.
• To sell a house to an outsider of the family, a title is needed. Years ago, oral agreements were made within and among families when buying, selling or partitioning a house. In times past, a man’s word was his honor and official documents were not required, nor were they needed. Such transactions occurred in the local cafenion (coffee house), where witnesses would attest to the validity of the agreement and be called upon if there was ever a conflict.
• There may have been a past agreement, still in full force, that a house would never be sold.
• If a house was renovated strictly for tourism, that season is short and the family would need other sources of income. In the area of Vathia, that does not currently exist.

This explanation made sense, but it also made me sad. Such an area, so rich in history and so incredibly wild and beautiful, should be renovated and preserved. The complications above make this difficult now, but in the future there may be resolutions that are not currently available. It is my hope that this will be.





Visiting the Villages: Koumousta

Going back in my family research always leads to the mountains. The Spartan villages of my four grandparents, Agios Ioannis and Mystras, were nestled in the valley beneath the Taygetos range. This was the agricultural center of the region—fertile plains filled with citrus and olive trees, fruit and vegetable gardens. As I wrote previously, villages in the valleys became repopulated after the Ottomans were expelled in 1830 and people descended from the mountain tops to start a new life. Among them were my grandparents’ ancestors.

Prior to the Revolution of 1821, Koumousta was the populated village; Xirokampi was a small settlement with just a few families. In the book, Koumousta of Lacedaimonos, Theodore Katsoulakos and Panagiotis X. Stoumbos meticulously describe life in Koumousta prior to the residents’ leaving. Among them was the Christakos family, ancestors of my paternal great-grandmother, Politimi Christakos, who married Andreas Kostakos. Her father, Nikolaos, and her grandfather, Dimitrios, are named in this book. Finding this information was an enormous and important breakthrough in my research.

Koumousta of Lakedaimonos, Theodore S. Katsoulakos and Panagiotis X. Stoumbos, published 2012

The book describes the villagers: “Koumousta, from old times and until its desertion, was a very hospitable village. Everyone of Koumousta considered it an honor and pleasure to have someone under his roof. Work was stopped to settle the foreigners. Many people back then came to Koumousta from the plains and from surrounding villages. Relatives and friends were everywhere…Every Koumoustioti’s door was open to any foreigner that would knock on his door. The man who asked for hospitality was considered a “holy” [highly respected] person who should be treated with all arrangements of good relations. This treatment was highly characteristic and very good. Every good thing that there was in the house was offered with love and selflessness, and above all, food: cheese, bread, pork, eggs were the necessary and basic foods. Women put their hands deep into the barrels because there was where the best portions of pork meat lay after it was boiled. But it was not only the visitor that had to be treated well; even his mule had to be treated well. They took care to give the mule water and food, like their own animals.”1

This intrigued me. People would climb a steep mule trail to visit a village at the crest of a mountain? The villagers were known for their hospitality, despite living in an isolated area? I knew that Koumousta was situated on a high peak and that its access road was narrow and treacherous. But my ancestors were those described in the book, and I just had to go!

Leaving Xirokampi on the road to Koumousta

The journey seemed inoccuous at first. The road was paved, and a low stone wall provided a comforting border between the road and the ravine below. I felt reassured. But after a mile, the wall disappeared and the ravine’s treetops lined the side of the road. They were my guardrails throughout the four mile ascent.

The treetops on the left appear to be bushes, indicating the depth of the ravine.
The face of this mountain is particularly scary!

Partway up the mountain, I saw what appeared to be a lake on the right side of the road. But this is a man-made, rectangular basin. There are no structures adjacent to it, and I cannot imagine its purpose.

A pool of some type, constructed mid-mountain
The scenery is lovely, with bright spots of color accenting the rocks and greenery.

The road was extremely steep, and despite my growing fears, I had to keep my foot on the accelerator to keep the car moving upwards. Parts of the pavement were washed out, with evidence of small rockslides.

Seeing an isolated house, I wondered who would construct it mid-way up a mountain? It appeared to be abandoned, but at some point it was a home. How could one live so alone?

This house, although close to the road, was built in an isolated spot

The phrase, “are we there yet?” kept running through my mind. I knew that the closer I got to the top, the worse the road conditions would become. I felt relief when I came across this sign.

Koumousta 500 metres – almost there!

Rounding a curve, my breath stopped when I saw the village: perched on the mountains were beautiful stone houses with red tile roofs. This appeared to be a viable village; I had expected crumbling vestiges of bygone years.

Homes in beautiful condition, cut into the mountain

Driving onto the stone pavement of the plateia, I could not believe the scene before me. Koumousta was not a village in ruins. It was beautifully restored and utterly charming. I parked the car and in the town square; a black and white dog greeted and walked with me. The peace and beauty were almost magical.

The lovely plateia, impeccably clean and perfectly maintained
Pure mountain water gushes from the fountain and is channeled
The houses are traditional and charming. All appear to be renovated and in excellent condition.
One couple lives in Koumousta year-round; others come for holidays and vacations.
The inscription on the plaque mentions the restoration of the plateia in October 2000.

I can understand why my 3rd great-grandfather, Dimitrios, left and resettled in Xirokampi in the mid-1800s. I would bet, however, that if he were alive today, he would find a way to keep his mountain home. Although winter weather would make the road impassible and the cold intolerable (altitude of 2200 feet), this village remains a pristine oasis and a welcomed haven from contemporary life. Today, the village of Koumousta is also known as Pentavli.


1Koumousta of Lacedaimonos, page 213; translation by Giannis Michalakakos.