Built on an estuary, between two lagoons, Messolonghi is unique. In some ways there isn’t much happening but it has a quiet drama and a remarkable history that stays with you long after you’ve left. The Kleisova lagoon spreads out across the bottom of Messolonghi, along the edge of a road that seems far too big for the town. It is breathtaking. Flamingos, Herons and Great Egrets wade in the shallow waters under the snow capped mountains to the perpetual call of seagulls. At sunset the wide sky produces a magnificent backdrop for the range of vivid oranges and pinks, with picturesque boats in the foreground. A Hollywood ending.
I came to Messolonghi for the history but as the weather forecast warned of extremely low temperatures, (-8 at night and -3 in the day) I decided to get a room for several nights to escape the cold, do my washing, have wifi and electricity and not use up all my wood. The heating was air conditioning and, like all Greek AC heating in my experience pretty inadequate, so I ended up in a warm bedroom whilst nipping into a freezing bathroom and kitchen. It was great though, with a large balcony and washing line (although I still don’t understand how washing dries at these temperatures). On the second day all the pipes had frozen and there was no water. The landlady very sweetly said it would be back on by 11 when the sun would warm everything and ‘did I want eggs for breakfast?'(all done through google translate). She had already given me a full dinner when I arrived and even though I thanked her and said I was fine there was a knock at the door at lunchtime and she appeared with another full dinner and a lovely salad, so kind! Despite the cold I explored the town, museums and local area, starting with a visit to the Garden of Heroes. This memorial garden was used as a cemetery during the years of the siege (1822-1826) and has statues to a number of Greek notables but the key and most poignant memorial is the Tomb of Heroes, a central burial monument, created in 1838 in which lies the relics of the doomed fighters of the third seige.
Messolonghi had a brave and central role in the Greek war of Independence (1821-1829). The people of Messolonghi had successfully seen off the Ottomans twice prior to the third siege which lasted a year (25th April 1825 to April 10th, 1826). By the end everything alive in the town had been eaten, cats, dogs and donkeys, and the inhabitants were dying of starvation trying to survive on seaweed. The leaders decided to attempt an escape for all those who were able, with the sick and dying left in houses full of gunpowder to blow themselves up when the Ottomans invaded. It was a valiant but ill-fated attempt, with only a 1000 of the 8000 inhabitants making it to safety, the rest suffered the usual horrors of war, raped and slaughtered en-masse, with others sold into slavery. Although going down in Greek history as a noble sacrifice it seems the people were let down by Karaiskakis not being where he said he’d be with his troops, the Ottomans knowing about the plan from defectors and mass confusion on the night. However, while a military and humanitarian disaster, the terrible events stirred sympathy in western Europe leading to consequent military intervention by Great Britain, Russia and France, notably at the Battle of Navarino, which destroyed the Ottoman navy, aiding the triumph of Greek independence.
The third siege is well documented in the quaint art and history museum of Messolonghi which displays its prints of notable paintings with dignity, the originals residing in more prestigious museums. The museum focuses on Lord Byron’s role in the fight for Greek independence and is clearly proud of their association with Byron, who died of fever in the town in 1824 and whose heart is buried under the marble statue of him in the Garden of Heroes . His sexual ‘transgressions’ (numerous affairs with both sexes, including with his half-sister, who bore his child) meant that Westminster cathedral refused to bury his embalmed body when returned by the Greeks, but this part of his past is swept aside in Messolonghi. Byron memorabilia and numerous portraits of him, some sporting full Greek clothing (no uneasiness with cultural appropriation in the 19th century), are proudly exhibited. More recently, if you call the 1980s recent, are the associations between Gedling council in Nottinghamshire, the site of Byron’s ancestral home, Newstead Abbey [1] and Messolonghi town. The faded 1989 photograph of Gedling’s ugly civic hall, displayed on the museum wall, tugged at my heart strings. Next to it is a written agreement between the councils about the exchange of information and visits and I’m determined to see if this is still honoured when I visit Nottinghamshire. At the top of the stairs of the museum, observed by large paintings of moustachioed Greek heroes as you go up, is an account of a more successful local resistance in which a handful of Greek men and 2 women fought with guns and a clever defence – sticks placed under the water to sink the invaders boats – from dusk till dawn seeing off many times their number. A real David and Goliath story which took place 3 weeks before the third siege of Messolonghi and as such is overshadowed by history. Unfortunately the photo I took didn’t come out so I don’t know the name of it sadly.
Ten minutes walk up the road from my apartment were the Roman thermal baths. It was a small but nevertheless impressive site, largely destroyed by an earthquake in antiquity. The bath complex offers a real insight into the Romans bathing rituals, with a large rectangular pool for the cold bath (Frigidarium) with its plaster walls and colored marble slabs at the bottom it looked very much like a modern swimming pool. There is also a central space with four built-cylindrical tubs (alvei) and a lukewarm bath (tepidarium). Worth a look for 2 euros.
One afternoon I drove out to see the church of Panagia tis Finikias (1804), set among the salt lakes, known as the Alykes of Messolonghi. It is said that Lord Byron liked to go there and I can see its appeal to a poet. It is out on a limb but the limb is more interesting than the church itself. Like the lagoon, the area has an unearthly presence, great stretches of flat land surrounded by rocky hills and then magnificent hills of white salt, extracted from the Mediterranean sea. Another wonderfully surreal landscape offered by Messolonghi.
Tuesday is market day in town (also Saturday) and I wish I had taken some pictures – one whole stall was covered in real furs, with fox fur stoles hanging up which I’d last seen on my grandma in the 1970s. I bought some fresh veg, fruit and some well-wrapped eggs from an extremely old woman. It was a 30 minute walk into town from where I was staying, which I had done a couple of times, but as I was going to market I thought I’d drive in this time. Unfortunately, I hadn’t taken enough notice of where I’d parked so after going to the Trikoupi Family Museum I aimlessly wandered with heavy bags following the sea front but still ended up in the wrong place. Luckily it was fairly warm and sunny but I don’t think I’d ever been so glad to see my van when I eventually found it.
The next time I went in I decided to walk! On my way home and trying to warm up, I went into a bar and got a Greek coffee. It was a very local bar with a group of three men at one table and two at the bar with a friendly woman serving. One of the men struck up conversation with me in English and he introduced me to everyone. The owner, sitting at the table, asked through my new translator if I wanted a beer so I decided to stay and warm up for a bit longer. It was a really pleasant time, with old photos of Messolonghi on days gone by adorning the wall and a comfortable convivial atmosphere. They left before me and when I went to sort my bill found it had been paid for. More kindness! I tried to say thank you the day I left with some sweet treats from the best bakery for sweet treats I had been to in Greece. I’d had one of their wonderful cakes the night before and it was stunningly good. I hope they liked them.
There was something about Messolonghi and when I left I, like Byron, left part of my heart there.
[1] Incidentally, Byron only inherited his title and house because all four of the previous Lord Byron’s children, and only grandson, predeceased him.