48 hours in Parga
My first encounter with Parga was belated, despite frequently passing by since my university years. A quick coffee break on the way to Igoumenitsa to board the ferry to Paxos was our initial introduction to the historic city of Epirus, sparking our curiosity.
Fast forward two decades – yes, time flies – we embarked on a journey from Preveza for a stroll, only to discover that in the summer, during peak hours, the steep streets of Parga are jam-packed. Not a single free spot to be found.
After entrusting our car to a valet, we promised to return in an hour to collect it and depart, as he was about to close the entry to the parking lot. Finally, we managed to briefly explore the city, enough to make us want to return, and this time, properly.
First day
The city’s charm is best appreciated from the sea: perched amphitheatrically on a hill, with vibrant mansions nestled among modest homes, the pristine waters of the Ionian Sea in front, and the verdant island of Panagia, with its eponymous temple attracting honeymooners worldwide, Parga is simply unmissable.
In the summer, the bars, cafes, and restaurants lining the seafront are always bustling, regardless of the time of day.
If its architecture reminds you of the Ionian Islands, you’re not mistaken. The Venetians, who also influenced the neighboring islands, had a presence here for about four centuries, from 1401 to 1797. They left an indelible mark, including a well-preserved Venetian castle – housing the ruins of the old city – on the cape that separates the harbor from the trendy Valtos beach.
After the Venetians’ defeat by Napoleon, it was the English’s turn to step in. In 1819, they sold the town to Ali Pasha, who coveted it greatly and promptly added his own castle over Anthousa. This village, along with Trikorfo, has now become an extension of Parga, filled with rental villas – complete with pools, for those interested.
While Ali Pasha may have desired Parga, the feeling was not mutual. The locals made their disdain for Ali Pasha immediately known: around 4,000 Pargians packed their belongings and fled to Corfu, leaving behind not even the remains of their ancestors.
Nearly a century later, in 1913, they would return with the liberation of Epirus and its unification with Greece. This return is celebrated annually on the 15th of August with the custom of Varkarola: beautifully decorated boats adorned with Venetian lanterns arrive at the port to a warm and enthusiastic welcome.
Aside from the castles and the islet of Panagia – which some adventurous souls, unlike me, can swim to – Parga boasts narrow cobbled streets lined with charming little houses, hidden courtyards, and vibrant shops bustling with tourists of all origins. After exploring, you’ll inevitably find yourself where everyone else is: on the seaside promenade.
In the summer, the bars, cafes, and restaurants along the promenade are always buzzing with activity, regardless of the time of day. Among them, the city’s landmark, the purple Villa Rossa, stands out. This 1903 mansion, formerly owned by a tobacco merchant, now serves as a hotel.
During the summer, daily boats depart from the harbour not only for the nearby beaches of Valtos, Lyhnos – with its enchanting sea caves – and Sarakiniko, but also for Sivota, Paxos, Antipaxos, and Corfu.
If you’re travelling with less adventurous companions or prefer a more relaxed pace, Kryoneri and Piso Kryoneri are nearby, organised beaches where you can relax on a sunbed – free of charge.
Day Two
The idea of visiting a necromancy might not appeal to everyone, but I was personally intrigued by the Acheron Necromancy. After all, it’s not every day you’re promised communication with the souls of your departed loved ones.
Before you start scouring the map, let’s clarify that this was a practice of ancient times, when such extraordinary events were believed to occur. As you might suspect, it was all an ingeniously staged ruse.
Upon arrival at the oracle, pilgrims would first “interview” the priests, sharing details about themselves and their deceased loved ones. The information they unwittingly provided was critical to the ensuing performance.
Sequestered in small, claustrophobic rooms, the faithful would undergo days of isolation, adhering to a strict fast that included beans and lupines. In large doses, these can induce – surprise, surprise – hallucinations.
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When they could no longer comprehend their surroundings, they were led to experience more. The priests guided them up an almost vertical staircase, through a complex corridor, to an underground hall that gave the impression of being in the Underworld.
After shedding blood on the floor to satiate the deceased’s thirst and to make themselves recognizable, the mourning relatives were finally able to engage in a brief conversation with him. How was this possible? The gears discovered during excavations and the hidden passages around the hall bear witness to a well-orchestrated deception: using intricate machinery, the priests would animate idols representing humans on the altar and converse with the astonished “believers,” who were, of course, unable to fathom what was transpiring.
As unbelievable as it may sound, this “ritual” continued for centuries. Visitors would depart feeling comforted, having briefly “reconnected” with their lost loved ones. Consequently, the practice of necromancy thrived, amassing fame, power, and, of course, wealth.
If you’re wondering about the location of Lake Acherousia, the one with the boatman who ferried the dead to Hades, that lake no longer exists. I suppose we have to find a different route to Hades now – save the coin.
After this enlightening journey, it’s time to explore the Acheron River – from the inside. Make your way to the village of Glyki, where you can relax by the river with a beer in hand – a perfectly acceptable choice. Or you could go rafting, kayaking, hiking, horse riding – whatever you fancy, God willing.
If you’re hesitant, let me assure you that I did it too. For the first time in my life, as I approached my fifties, I went rafting on a route that seemed designed for preschoolers. I emerged from the inflatable boat completely dry – a feat that was apparently not due to my exceptional performance.
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