Monastery of Varlaam

Listen first. Up here, the wind moves through the gaps between the rock pillars with a low, steady hush. Somewhere below, a dog barks in the village. Then a bell sounds from the monastery above you. It is a thin, bright sound that seems to hang in the air longer than it should. Put your hand on the railing and feel how cool the stone stays, even in the sun. You are standing at the edge of the Monastery of Varlaam, one of the great rock-top communities of Meteora.

The name Meteora comes from Greek, and it means something close to "suspended in the air." Look around and the reason is obvious. Giant grey pillars rise straight out of the Thessalian plain, like the fingers of a stone hand. Geologists explain them as the remains of an ancient river delta. Layers of sand, pebbles and mud were pressed into rock over millions of years. Then earthquakes, wind and water cut the mass into these towers. The rough, pebbly texture you can see on the cliffs is that old riverbed, turned to stone.

Long before there were monasteries, there were hermits. In the Byzantine centuries, men looking for silence climbed into caves and cracks in these rocks. Some of those openings are still visible on the surrounding cliffs, dark and small, high above the ground. Hermits prayed alone during the week and gathered together on Sundays. Over time, small groups formed communities. By the late Middle Ages, monasteries crowned many of the pillars around you. Only a handful are still active today, and Varlaam is one of them.

This monastery carries the name of a hermit called Varlaam. According to tradition, he climbed this rock in the fourteenth century. He built a small church and a few cells, and he lived here with very little. After his death, the place stood mostly empty for many years. The rock waited. Then, in the sixteenth century, two brothers arrived from the city of Ioannina, in western Greece. They were monks, Theophanes and Nektarios, from a wealthy family. They decided to restore what Varlaam had started.

Here is a detail that surprises many visitors. The brothers did not build quickly. A well-known local tradition says that hauling the materials up the rock took about twenty-two years. The actual construction of the main church, the same tradition says, took only a few weeks. Whether the numbers are exact or not, the story points to something true. Everything here — every stone, beam and roof tile — had to be lifted up a sheer cliff. There was no road. There were no steps.

That brings us to the tower you may have noticed near the top. It holds an old winch, a large wooden drum turned by hand. For centuries, this was the main way in. Supplies, and sometimes people, were pulled up in a rope net. Visitors swung slowly in the open air, high above the trees. Locals tell a dark little joke about it. When someone asked how often the rope was replaced, the monks supposedly answered: "When the Lord lets it break." Today the winch still lifts goods, but people use the stairs.

Those stairs are a fairly recent addition. Steps were cut into the rocks of Meteora in the early twentieth century, and a bridge now links this pillar to the path. As you climb, notice how the steps turn and narrow. Notice how the rock face is right beside your shoulder. It is a short climb, but a steep one. Take your time. Stop at the turns. The views open up a little more with every landing, across the valley toward the other monasteries.

At the top, the main church is dedicated to All Saints. It dates to the middle of the sixteenth century, the period of the two brothers. The building follows a common Greek Orthodox plan, with domes above and a cross-shaped space inside. Step in slowly and let your eyes adjust. The light is low. The air smells of beeswax candles and old wood. Then the walls appear — almost every surface is covered in painted figures.

These wall paintings are the treasure of Varlaam. Many are credited to Frangos Katelanos, a painter from Thebes who worked in the mid-sixteenth century. Look for the scenes of the Last Judgement, and for long rows of saints and martyrs. Some of the martyrdom scenes are surprisingly graphic. The painters wanted the faithful to feel the weight of sacrifice. Notice the deep blues, the earthy reds, and the gold around the heads of the saints. In the porch area, later painters added more scenes, in a slightly different hand.

Beyond the church, the monastery opens into small courtyards, chapels and rooms. Some now hold a museum of religious objects. You may see old icons, embroidered robes, carved wooden crosses and handwritten books. One object makes almost everyone stop: a huge wooden barrel in the old storerooms. It was used to collect and store water, gathered from rain. On a rock with no spring, water meant survival. That single barrel tells you more about daily life here than any sermon could.

Remember that this is not only a museum. Monks still live and pray at Varlaam. Their rooms are closed to visitors, and you may see a monk crossing a courtyard without a word. Visitors are asked to dress modestly. Men should wear long trousers. Women are expected to cover their legs with a skirt, and wraps are usually offered at the entrance. Shoulders should be covered too. Speak quietly in the church. Photography rules inside the church are strict, so check the signs before raising your camera.

Since 1988, Meteora has been listed by UNESCO as a World Heritage Site. The listing honours both the natural rocks and the human work on top of them. From the edges of Varlaam, you can see why. Across the gap stands the Great Meteoron, the largest monastery in the area, on its own pillar. Down below, the red roofs of Kastraki and Kalabaka sit at the foot of the cliffs. In the early morning, mist often fills the valley, and the rocks rise out of it like islands.

Before you leave, find a quiet spot near the railing again. Look at the stone under your hand, rough with pebbles from a river that disappeared long ago. Look up at the winch tower, and imagine the rope creaking as it turns. Listen for the bell, the wind, a door closing somewhere inside. As you walk back down the steps, count the turns. Each one was once a cliff that only a rope could climb.