We jumped back into the hot car and drove three hours to Meteora, a town in the middle of nowhere, famous for its tall, column-like sandstone rocks that protrude straight up from the earth. And I mean really tall - some were up to several hundred metres high. Someone thought it would be a great idea to build monasteries on top of these natural pillars, and now they are a major tourist attraction. I didn't know what to expect in Meteora, but as soon as we arrived the scenery blew me away. Every few minutes I was asking Danny to pull over so I could take more photos. We drove up to three of the monasteries, using the incredibly unhelpful maps from the tourist office. The monasteries themselves weren't anything special, filled with paintings, ceramic pots, wine barrels and human skulls, but views from the front door were some of the best we had come across. All the monasteries involved climbing hundreds of steps, but the effort was well worth it.

A thunderstorm struck while I was inside the third monastery - Danny was back in the car, having reached his step limit for the day. I had to wait half an hour before making the dash back down the marble stairs, which had turned into rivers with the rain flowing down them. I definitely could have stayed longer if the weather had been on our side.