Methoni - Messinia

Some places are beautiful. And then there are places that do something to you. Methoni did that to me.

​

It was 24 years ago. I was driving along the coast from Finikounda when I arrived in Methoni for the first time. And I still remember it.

​

There it was. Almost quietly. The Greek-blue sea, an equally blue sky, white houses, bright red flowers and little fishing boats gently moving in the harbour. And behind it all, that enormous Venetian castle.

I don’t think I knew very much about Methoni then. I didn’t need to. I fell in love. 💙

​

And the funny thing is, more than twenty years later, nothing has really changed. Every time I drive into Methoni, there’s that same little feeling: Ah… there you are.

​

🧿 A little bit elegant. But only a little.

Methoni is still Greek. Wonderfully Greek. It hasn’t turned itself into a polished resort and it doesn’t try too hard to impress you. But there’s just the tiniest touch of elegance.

​

A beautiful terrace overlooking the sea. A really good glass of wine 🍷. A Greek dish that has clearly been made by someone who cares about what arrives on the plate. A lovely little boutique you weren’t expecting to find here.

​

Nothing flashy. Nothing overdone. Just enough. And perhaps that’s exactly why I like it so much.

​

🧿 And then there’s that castle…

You can hardly come to Methoni and ignore it. The enormous Venetian fortress seems to stretch straight into the sea. And for me, this is where Methoni becomes even more fascinating.

I’ve always had a thing about the Venetians. Perhaps that’s inevitable after so many years of living and working in Italy. But the more I read about their history in the Peloponnese, the more questions I seem to have.

​

For almost three centuries, from 1209 until 1500, Methoni was under Venetian rule. The Venetians returned again from 1686 until 1715. This wasn’t some forgotten little place at the edge of Greece. Methoni was an important fortified port on the sea routes connecting Venice with the eastern Mediterranean.

​

And when I walk through the fortress, that’s what I try to imagine. Not dates. People. Merchant ships appearing on the horizon. Sailors finally coming ashore after weeks at sea. Traders, pilgrims and travellers passing through. Different languages from across the Mediterranean.

​

What did it sound like? What did it smell like? Who stood exactly where I’m standing now, looking out over that same sea?

​

Of course, we’ll never know. But stand on those walls for a while, preferably towards the end of the afternoon when it gets quieter, and somehow those centuries don’t feel quite so far away.

​

🧿 And then there are the olive trees…

This may be the part of Methoni I love most. Leave the village and within minutes you’re among the olive groves. They’re everywhere. Thousands and thousands of silvery-green leaves catching the sunlight. Some of those trees have stood here for hundreds of years.

And every now and then, I find one I particularly like and sit underneath it for a while. That’s all. No archaeological site. No story to tell a group. No restaurant reservation. Nothing I need to do.

Just sit, listen, breathe and look.

​

The wind moving through the leaves. The smell of warm earth, olive trees and the sea somewhere nearby. And silence. But never an empty silence.

​

Sometimes I look at one of those old trees and wonder what it would tell me if it could talk. Who sat here a hundred years ago? Two hundred? How many children played underneath these branches? How many people fell in love here? How many plans were made? How many dreams came true – and how many didn’t?

That old tree has seen all of it. And there I am, just the latest person sitting underneath it for a while.

​

🧿 This is olive country

We’re in one of the most important olive-oil regions in Greece. The little Koroneiki olive is everywhere here. Small, almost unimpressive to look at, but capable of producing wonderful, characterful extra virgin olive oil.

​

But olive oil in Messinia isn’t simply something that comes in a beautiful bottle. It’s part of life. You see the trees when you wake up. You drive past them on your way to the beach. Families harvest their own olives. In winter, the presses are working and everyone seems to be talking about this year’s oil.

You don’t just taste olive oil here. You live among the trees that produce it.

And perhaps Methoni is a little like that Koroneiki olive. Small, full of character and capable of surprising you.

​

🧿 Twenty-four years later

A lot has happened in my life since that first drive into Methoni. I’ve travelled to countless other places. Seen other islands, other villages, other beautiful coastlines.

And still, when the road brings me back into Methoni and I see that sea, those little boats and the castle in the distance, I get exactly the same feeling I had 24 years ago.

​

Some places you visit. Some places you remember. And every once in a while, you find a place that somehow becomes a tiny part of you.

​

Methoni did that to me.

And every time I leave, I know one thing.

I’ll be back. 💙