Peloponnese 2: Chilling at the MO and A Magnificent Dinner at Anama

We have no plans for our second day at the Mandarin Oriental, except for a dinner reservation this evening at Anama, a taverna in the nearby village of Giolova.

The day began early—6 a.m.—in the hotel’s well-equipped gym, where I claimed a rowing machine (N.B. No amount of exercise could compensate for the food consumed over the last week) positioned perfectly to watch the sun rise over Costa Navarino. It was a peaceful and invigorating hour or so, with golden light spilling in as I moved through the strokes.

Afterward, I made my way to breakfast, which was nothing short of indulgent. George, one of the attentive staff members, greeted me with a warm smile and brought over a generous selection of delicacies even before I had a chance to look at the menu—which, truthfully, I didn’t need. I chose a bowl of rich, velvety and spoon thick Greek yogurt topped with local honey that included some honeycomb and toasted nuts, each bite a balance of creamy and sweet. I followed it with an egg white omelet that arrived perfectly fluffy—light and delicate. The pistachio laced croissant was a nice touch, further adding to my caloric gluttony.

After breakfast, we wandered down to the hotel’s beach club— a serene stretch of golden sand, framed by a deep blue pool, and thatched shaded loungers. The setup is understated yet elegant, with plush sunbeds, attentive service, and just past the pool, an endless view of the Ionian Sea just beyond where it meets the Bay of Costa Navarino. At the edge of the bay where the sheltered waters finally open to the vast Ionian Sea, there’s a quiet shift—subtle but unmistakable. The bay, calm and glassy, is cradled by low hills and rocky outcrops, its surface often mirroring the sky. But as you approach the narrow mouth leading to open sea, the water deepens in color, shifting from soft turquoise to a bold, endless blue. Whether swimming in the clear blue pool, as we did, or simply watching the light dance on the surface, the beach club feels like a private slice of paradise.

I reluctantly peeled myself away from the beach club for a 90-minute spa treatment, dubbed the Intelligent Movement Massage. But the hour leading up to it was its own kind of ritual—a sequence of indulgences that left me both grounded and elevated. I moved from the mineral steam room to the hibiscus-scented steam chamber, then into the dry heat of the sauna, followed by a soak in the hot tub. Each transition softened me further. And then, the cold plunge. At 42 degrees, it was a shock to the system—the kind that demands courage and control. At first, I could barely manage a few seconds. But by the end, I was submerged to my neck for half a minute, breath slowed, mind wide awake. The transition from hot to cold was not just invigorating—it was exhilarating. Rinse, repeat! By the time I entered the treatment room, I felt like I’d shed several layers of tension, ready for whatever came next.

Now it was time for the “treatment.” I was greeted by a woman named Natasha, who led me to a luxurious changing room where I placed my belongings in a locker. Inside was a silky robe and a rather minimalist undergarment—more thong than anything else. I remember thinking, half amused, that I hoped no photo of me wearing it would ever surface online—or anywhere, for that matter.

The treatment, called the Intelligent Movement Therapy, is designed to improve posture and mobility through a combination of trigger point release, deep muscle work, stretching, and muscle elongation. Whatever the technical explanation, in practice it was pretty damn good. By the end, I was left deeply relaxed—if not a little wobbly—for several hours afterward.

While I was indulging in the spa experience, my wife took a swim in the serene indoor-outdoor pool that extends from the spa to the open air.

At the end of the day, we left the hotel for Giolova, a quiet village nestled along the coast where the Bay of Navarino merges with the gentle arc of the Ionian Sea. As we strolled along the shore, we passed a fisherman in a small boat, lifting his net with practiced ease. We continued down Shore Street to Anama (anamarestaurant.gr), a restaurant recommended by Christos Stergiou—founder of True Trips (truetrips.com) and the architect of our journey—as one of his personal favorites. After a delightful evening, we understood exactly why.

We were promptly seated at a simple table, set parallel to the bay, where the water glimmered just beyond arm’s reach. Once settled, we were greeted by Paul—more than just a host, he was the kind of person who immediately draws you in, making you feel both welcomed and at ease. His Australian accent sparked our curiosity. As it turned out, Paul was raised in Australia but returned to his ancestral homeland, where he eventually married his wife, Georgia. Yes—Paul is Greek. Then, as if giving a master class in welcoming, Paul explained the history of the restaurant, and pointed out some his menu favorites. Though we sat outside, Anama’s interior preserves the stone walls, old machinery, and rustic charm of the original raisin factory, blending history with modern design. Described as Creative Greek or Mediterranean fusion, this is the kind of fare that brings flavor to every bite.

Shortly after Georgia (not Paul’s wife) one of the owners, came over to take our order, the food began to flow. The first, an elegant surprise arrived in the form of a minimalist yet deeply flavorful mezze. On one side of the plate, a velvety red pepper spread—smoky, sweet, and with just a trace of heat—was artfully smeared, likely made from roasted Florina peppers and a touch of garlic. Opposite, a cluster of glistening Kalamata olives rested in a pool of golden olive oil, crowned with a sprig of fresh wild oregano in bloom. The dish was rustic in its simplicity, but each element spoke of place: the sun, the soil, the slow craft of Greek kitchens. With a piece of home made bread, it was perfection.

Other epicurean delights followed, each more enchanting than the last. The flavors at Anama are not merely delicious — they are deeply expressive, as if each ingredient has a story to tell. The food carries the essence of the land: sun-soaked, herb-scented, bold yet balanced. There’s a quiet confidence in the kitchen here, an understanding that simplicity, when guided by precision and passion, can be transcendent. Every bite felt like a revelation — familiar, yet somehow elevated. The flavor in this food is simply incredible.

After we finished our meal, we were ready to call it a night — content, satisfied, and already savoring the memory. But Paul had other plans. With a knowing smile and gentle insistence, he brought out one of Anama’s signature desserts: a lemon meringue tart crowned with a swirl of golden-toasted meringue, paired with a scoop of vibrant yellow ice cream, its flavor as surprising as it was sublime. It was not a suggestion — it was a gift. And with that simple gesture, Paul had made friends for life.

We ended the evening with a group photo alongside Paul and Georgia — a fitting conclusion to a meal that felt more like a gathering of old friends than a dinner out. We had hoped to include the chef in the picture, but he was still hard at work in the kitchen, orchestrating his quiet magic. Still, I managed to snap a few candid shots of him in action. On the walk back to the hotel, the night offered one last unexpected delight: we met a sweet dog along the way, as if the village itself was sending us off with a smile.