It is apparent from the moment my tour bus begins the approach into Kalabaka, a small town at the foot of the Meteora rock formations. Photos and descriptions just cannot do this place justice. They can’t capture the beauty of the monasteries atop narrow rock pinnacles. They can’t give proper scale to the enormity of the rocks and the way they rise from the valley. Most importantly, they cannot even begin to relay the feeling of calm one gets – well, at least that I get – being in a place that is so special and so unique.
About a five hour drive from Athens, Meteora is something completely different than the monuments of Ancient Greece that have been my focus since arriving. Close enough to get to, but far enough to make it really uncomfortable for a day, I choose to book an overnight tour that also stops at Delphi. Could I have done this on my own? Yes. Would I have saved money? Maybe. Would I have struggled with some aspects of both logistics and hilly driving? Probably. Am I glad not to have dealt with the added complications? Most assuredly.
Meteora is a set of rock pillars just outside the small town of Kalabaka, itself a cute little place that basically just caters to tourists, with a nice central square and a myriad of hotel and cafe options. These pillars are actually sandstone conglomerate, the remnants of an ancient seabed pushed upward and then whittled down by wind and rain for millennia. The scale is immense, especially rising from the totally flat Thessalian plain (which has a row of high mountains to the other side, but geologically those are totally distinct from the Meteora rocks) to a height of about 1800 feet in some places.
And while the rocks themselves would be beautiful enough to be worth visiting on their own, some of these pillars are topped with medieval monasteries. Originally, there were 24 such structures, built by Greek Orthodox Christian hermits seeking tranquility and safety. Constructed over the course of the fourteenth to eighteenth centuries, only six remain today. All are beautiful, and all are able to be visited.
More importantly, all are still working monasteries. Four host monks and two are home to nuns; populations range from a couple dozen at one of the nunneries to only a single monk at St. Nikolas. Being active religious sites, there is a strict dress code that is enforced (although not universally between the different monasteries, as far as I could tell from my visits). For men, knees and shoulders must be covered. For women, shoulders must be covered, and the legs via a long skirt or wrap (one woman in my group was prevented from entering one monastery with pants on and was made to put a wrap over them). For women, wraps are available free of charge to borrow at the entrances; for men, bring proper clothing or risk being turned away. You may also be asked to remove head coverings.
Additionally, some of the monasteries are more accessible than others. My group visits two, St. Stephen and Varlaam, and one necessitates merely a few stairs while the other needs a climb of roughly 200 steps to enter. (None has an elevator as best as I can tell.) So what can a visitor expect after dressing for the part, tackling the physical barriers to gaining entry, and paying the small €3 fee each seems to have?
St. Stephen sits at the eastern end of the monasteries of Meteora, directly overlooking Kalabaka. (Indeed, my favorite view of it is looking up from town.) While a few dozen nuns reside there, making it one of the largest by population, the area able to be visited is small. It includes a porch overlooking the town and valley (amazing!), a small museum, and a church. The church is the centerpiece of both communal life in the monastery and a visit, and while photos cannot be taken inside any of them, I’ll do my best to do credit to the beauty you’ll find.
Both churches I visit (I’ll speak a bit more from Varlaam in a moment) are stunning, with basically every surface fully painted in colorful scenes of Bible stories and saints. In addition, there are gold and silver ornaments, beautiful wooden carvings, and other ornate and intricate features that I am surprised to find in an otherwise austere environment like this.
That surprise is even more evident after I climb the 200 steps into the Varlaam monastery. Beautiful manicured gardens adorn the patios and provide shade for visitors, while a museum holds priceless religious treasures like illuminated manuscripts. This monastery is larger – or at least the part able to be visited is larger – and includes a cistern, a tower (which fascinatingly holds a rope-net-lowering mechanism that was the only means of entry before a bridge was built over the chasm; there is also now a small gondola used for goods, but not for people), and of course, the church.
The church at Varlaam has an outdoor section that allows photographs, and while it is completely bare in comparison to the two indoor rooms, it gives you an idea of the paint used, and of the richness of the decor.
Just imagine a room full of treasures like this one, and you’ll scratch the surface of what the church is like.
After just a couple hours seeing the two monasteries (and the others from viewpoints outside), it is time for the long drive back to Athens. Was it worth it? Absolutely! Meteora is a place photos can’t do justice to, and the feeling you’ll get in the presence of something so special is indescribable.
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