According to HGTV one of the things that white people like in their homes are chalkboards with cutesy things written on them. We see lots of signs in stores in the home decorating aisle. I am sure in the average home they are normally blank and unused, or have one old thing on it.

Now picture yourself in a Greek train station (go on, imagine the gyros and coffee and a bunch of nuts). Now imagine a big signboard that tells you when trains are arriving and departing. IT IS BLANK. Unused. The station also has no signs on the platforms. WHY??? Why are these boards decorative when they could serve an orienting purpose?! That is literally what they are there to do!

I feel like maybe there are some white people renovating houses in charge of this train station.

Anyway we have already used up our clumsy train karma in Munich, so I’m sure we will be fine despite the insurmountable odds of no signs anywhere ever stacking against us. Well, fortunately train station employees speak some English, and there are relatively few trains, so (hopefully) it should be easier to not mess this up. We splurged five extra euro for first-class tickets from Thessaloniki to Kalambaka (where Meteora is) with a change in Palaeofarsalos.

The train pulls up, covered in extremely colorful graffiti like almost everything else here that manages to stay still at some point. We have a private cabin which includes temperature controls and shades and it’s a peaceful hour and a half ride, next to mountains, through tunnels, and between rolling golden hills. It’s like California but seems less flammable, and the mountains aren’t as tall. We saw cows.

Our change in Palaeo-place (home of the dinosaurs, one Poke stop, and literally nothing else that we can see) is a small, dinky station with a few tracks. Oh, and no signs, because why would we have any signs anywhere. I don’t think that Ace of Base song made it here in the early 90s. At least this station’s platforms are labeled with general directions if you can slowly sound out Greek (yay) and I found one outdated and not helpful manual arrivals board in a corner. Someone tells us which train track it is thankfully and are able to successfully catch our train the rest of the way to Kalambaka.

Kalambaka seems deceptively small from the station, but it’s a small town of about 12,000 people who live in charming-ish houses nestled in the foothills of the weird sandstone rocks upon which the monasteries reside. We are staying near the train station, and head for our ABB and some food before our evening monastery tour. Our ABB has an amazing view!

We hopped in our tour bus and headed up first to the Byzantine Church of the assumption Mary, which is old old old (from the 4th century) and has stood the test of time against many invading forces. It’s covered in icons and art that’s centuries of years old. This church has no domed ceiling and a rather interesting painting about the plague killing people in the middle ages. Nice. A lot of the images of the saints had their faces erased by the Turks. It’s cold and dark inside, and it remains remarkably well-preserved. I have developed a love for the eternal shrugging that is the posture of the byzantine iconic art. I learned Rhett’s dad hates icons and now I know exactly what to get him for Christmas.

From the church, we zig-zagged our way up the mountain roads to visit the monasteries, as I am sure their creators from the 13th century onward would have liked. There are merely a handful of monasteries remaining out of the original 24. The nazis bombed the heck out of them in WWII and many were completely lost. The remaining six or seven are impressive and crawling with tourists here to see these impossible buildings atop the cliffs. Who?! Why!? We have a lot of history questions that will be answered on our tour tomorrow.

We only go inside one monastery tonight, St Stephen’s monastery, which is home to nuns who sell religious souvenirs and who do other nun things. If you are a lady who is entering, you must don a long skirt, as this is the way of the monasteries. We wore our beautiful skirts and wandered the grounds. This monastery offered an impressive view over the sprawling town of Kalambaka and the other monasteries. It had some pleasant and manicured rose gardens, complete with kitties. It also had a number of updated paintings and old paintings alike. In one, which was depicting the plague, a dude was being eaten by a medieval dragon. Sweet. The monastery also showcased old needlework and artifacts from people who have served the monasteries long past. All of the items were extremely elaborate and at least 500 years old.

From there, we drove around the cliffside and took in the sunset with the other tourist hordes. The sun set slowly behind the rolling mountains, casting the hillside and monasteries in a beautiful golden light.

And we bid farewell to this road doggo, who so well represents the presence of all the stray animals that wander around, obeying traffic laws somehow. He was friendly and cute and I want to bring him home forever.

Tomorrow, it’s off to our private tour of the remaining monasteries. I see a lot of stairs in my future (leading unavoidably to a stair-based pun for tomorrow’s post) and I hope to eat some more cheese. May I never poop again!