Impregnable castles, sunken green, rocky island embraced by the waves and a votary church in Panagia. Surrendered all its rich vegetation, complement what we all have in mind for the classic, the nonnegotiable, unconditional beauty.
What did you know, for Parga? Adika trying to remember. What you read, what do you expect? The first image is destroying any questions; makes you forget what you were looking for, what you would want them to be. Do you live to look tall, the moon to fill above the Venetian castle. The chapel of Our Lady how glisten amid the greenery of the little island. Moisture obstructs the gaze stretches not s’afinei to discern sooner the opposite Paxos.
It is night and look at the stands clearly. Not observing the fancy colors of neoclassical, movement at the pier, the encounters to “anchor” the fishermen to secure the boats in the harbor. But what you see is pretty.
To understand, to ponder why the northern Ionian coast always magnetised their own public. Those who like the green of dense groves, those seeking the coolness to fruit forests, those who swear eternal loyalty to drowned in pine golden beaches, rocks and chapels suspended as if in transparent waters.
You feel lucky still a little “summer” and nature shares your mood, the wind makes a state and he, the sea sparkles like glass.
Two castles look from above, yellowish ruins of Venetian rule, witnessed the subsequent prevalence of Ali Pasha.
Parga is not conquered, it was sold to the Ottomans, and its inhabitants were forced to “flee” the left for neighboring Corfu, exile, ever enslaved.
Always with them and the image of “Parginopoulas” even led once. This was that protoedeixe the way to the castle (the 14o c.) And slowly spread around him, left forever Palioparga, the first village on the plateau, behind the wooded ridge of Bezovolios mountain.
Will dawn and you will see them. Rocks thrown into the sea to guard: Three stone, the meatballs, the Pafloukes the haunted St. Nicholas who never married his bride.
Those looking than their wooden balconies are Pargians from all sides of the amphitheater, built city. From Korkotsaki, Krioneri, Kamini, the Tourkopazaro through the few remaining “ride”, the narrow alleys of the “uphill road”, sailing boats daily to agitate the waters. How many unveils first light.
Houses of rich merchants in surround. Along with the black and white photos, are left to remind sea journeys in Trieste, ships loaded with oil, textiles, wood and citrus Hebrew. There were many old trees, especially in Agia, the village, 7 km. From here, near the homonymous castle. There they produced a tiny luxury item, it bought the Israelites expensive, to celebrate their own mystery of Easter. Now Lemon Grove is that flare up on the slopes, these and olive trees still give fruit and shade the inhabitants spread nets knit giant veils acres whole, the sew with the bodkin tightly over his head.
Down the walk on the path from Piso Krioneri, the more “sheltered” within the village beach, as the chapel of St. Helena. You sit together with walkers in the whitewashed terrace, you see with the naked eye how like a true postcard.
You want to climb everywhere, those stairs. “Of Parga uphill” of the famous chant the main avenue between fortress and harbor.
Then you measure all the colors of the sea, swimmers washed up in Ammopouli, paint the island with wet footprints, others choose the oars. Behind the winged lion of St. Mark, the once impregnable fortress serves views, coffee accompaniment and a photographic exhibition two years now introduces visitors to the ‘Other Parga’, the forgotten, the old. This recall and the elders in the cafes behind the pier, hit checkers on banking oddly do not play backgammon, the afternoon pastime revolves around successive batches dominoes.
The mansion of the benefactor B. Vasila stands behind the bust, in the square, and the side of the courtyards louloudiazoun, smells getting in leading deeper in Whitish neighborhoods. To the Holy Apostles, the oldest church on the spot from which starts an August trip to the miraculous icon; and behind him, the monument of the Fugue Pargians. Still further, the Olive Museum, navigate esoteric first mill motor.
You learn how olive trees are so dense because the inhabitants were provided subsidy ‘6 clips in each, “the BAZAN cliffs, ravines, where he had dirt everywhere! If you circled around the castle, the Valtos will look panorama, a magical cove, a sandy beach and the “nose” of 15 m. Campanile of the ruined St. Vlacherna; lofty symbol of faith, overcomes a height of any trees. What a wonderful and this circumstance the side. The fortress of Parga without buildings, stone only and holly, green and only a deep blue.
Waters, mills and villages
You unwittingly follow the train that whistles daily amid the fields, define path to the watermills of Anthousa. Ten existed until the 50s the gorge, 10 millers which defined their lives around the water source of the melon fields. Everyone here initiate the enforced to grind. From Kanalaki, Fanari, all nearby villages. Ruins peeking behind old trees and a whole of Luka, working as before. Follow the signs leading to the waterfall. Twenty meters the measured one, yet water, and a rainbow at the base, made with sunbeams sandwiched such as the branches. The dirt road through the village goes downhill to the chapel of Agios Sostis, what Name the names of the small coast.
One fisherman was saved here from the stormy waves and lifted shrine, barely fit it into the slit of the rock. A few kilometers further north, peaceful and organized Sarakiniko celebrates every evening with a sunset. And Lamp, south, gorgeous too. So many beaches and as many, approached the (perhaps more easily) by boat from Parga. Sea trips cover a distance of about six miles, to the mouth of the Acheron are traveling, if you like.
High up the castle of Agia (or Anthousa) together with the Russian cannons, supervises earth and sea passages. So he wanted in 1814, Ali Pasha, from there coveted, for years, the enviable of Parga. Even higher, hooked on the slopes of four hills, Agia discern the lively village, dedicated to Saint Paraskevi. And for her heard a lot, you see, if you want it all succeeds.
It has beauty, work needs to highlight them, and the truth is that the processes have already started. “Spring is for us the best time,” argues John Lekas, owner of a wonderful semi-mountainous “oasis”. All seasons have grace in a place that has much to offer. Trails off in ravines, in passing from a 300 year old double-arched bridge, waterfalls and the village with uninterrupted views, meet women scarves with golden hair, which make meat pies in joys and sorrows.
You learn all of the members of the cultural association. From Litsa Theodosius-Alexiou, Takis and Froso Nanos, the representative of the Women’s Association.
A couple of years now, with all grapple. With the folklore museum, with books to be delivered on the history and tradition of Agia, with festivals in July, the representation of Holiness Wedding and more. They try, united, to save as many nuggets of history can, for them to do for their children. There he and John Theodosius, one of three farmers of the village.
Dressed shepherd to greet us, talk to us Arvanitika, tell us about the Turks never took root here. To sit with us at agnanti, to show us the view “their”, the castle and the sea. In Lefkada, Paxos and Lefkimmi, tradition and all the natural beauty of a blessed land, which, as stated by many.