Cyclades

A tale or two : Tinos and Syros

Arriving at Tinos

Arriving at Tinos

Tinos and Syros are two islands I find it quite difficult to distinguish between when it comes to my photo album.  One thing I do remember vividly was the heat on disembarking at Tinos.  The prospect of crawling on hands and knees along this seafront and up the steps to Panagia Evangelistria each 15th August was not a happy one.  Yet that is precisely what takes place each year.  The devoted crawl the 800 metres from the harbour to this pilgrimage church, with its miraculous icon of the Virgin Mary.

It was still Spring in the Cyclades and pleasantly deserted as I ambled past the trinket shops on the harbour, with my partner in crime.  The shade of the awnings was a sure temptation to linger.

The ferry landing on Tinos.  My favourite way to travel.

The ferry landing on Tinos. My favourite way to travel.

My partner in crime!  Doesn't he look young?

My partner in crime! Doesn’t he look young? (and tanned!)

A fine looking pelican waddled past us.  I had expected to see the resident pelican on Mykonos, but, like us, he must have been away day tripping that day.  Perhaps this was his double.

Pelican crossing

Pelican crossing

And then, the approach to the church.

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Our base was on Andros and we had made the sailing to Tinos from there.  All too rapidly it was time to return to the ferry.  Once aboard there would be no regrets.  I am never happier than when sailing between these islands.  I dreamed that I could island hop for ever.

It wasn’t easy deciding where to allocate most of our time, but, checking the ferry timetables an overnight stay on neighbouring Syros seemed like a good idea.  The ferry sailed into the island capital, Ermopouli, amid a cacophony of noise.  My research had not revealed that local elections were taking place, with loudhailers and all the accompanying paraphenalia.  Threading through the hustling crowd, it was a relief to find a friendly gentleman in the local TI.  The rooms he found us were a world away from the Greek mayhem.

Syros harbour

Syros harbour

You can see that the harbour has two hills, Ermopouli and Ano Syros, the medieval quarter.  Our room was at the top of the hill by the church.  Guess which hill we climbed first?  Give me a choice of two!  Fortunately we were travelling light.

As you can see, it's a long way up.

As you can see, it’s a long way up.

The prettiest blue church I ever saw

Maria Della Grazia church at Poseidonia

This is the end of my sojourn in the Cyclades.  In 25 years I have never been back, though I would love to.  The Greek odyssey continues, but with the addition of a small person.

A tale or two : Andros

A windy balcony at Batsi

A windy balcony at Batsi

Despite its traumatic ending in Athens, that first visit to the Cyclades was the start of a full blown love affair with the islands of Greece. The following Spring found me on Andros, in an apartment with a breezy balcony, in Batsi.

I recall a strong sheet of perspex which, while it distorted the view up the hill, provided wonderful shelter from the constant breeze.  The previous Spring there’d been barely a whisper of wind, but here on Andros, the most northerly of the Cyclades, I encountered the famous Meltemi.  Yet, basking in sunshine on the veranda, I could look down on the harbour.

Pretty Batsi harbour

Pretty Batsi harbour

It was on Andros that I had my first introduction to guided walking.  Normally I’m more than happy to just follow my nose.  I usually arrive home again- eventually!  But a couple of hours of countryside in the company of a local sounded an agreeable way to spend a morning.  A very affable expat, he turned out to be, who’d lived many years on the island and had ‘a tale or two’ to tell himself.  And it took the pressure off Mick for a while- he’s gifted with a far better sense of direction than me and inevitably has to take the map from my hands and steer us back.  Map?  What map?  I don’t believe I even had one on Andros.

Up we wound through the back streets.  Don’t you love back streets?

As the sun rose higher, hats were pulled on and sunscreen topped up.  The landscape was majestic and it was with just a hint of regret that I returned to the harbour at Batsi.  But it’s a great place to sit in the shade and chat.

The harbour front at Batsi

The harbour front at Batsi

Batsi harbour 3

Some memories are clearer than others.  I remember arriving by ferry at unpreposessing Gavrio, and then a bumpy ride to Batsi, late in the day.  I loved the little harbour there, and sometimes dressing up (a frock!) for cocktail hour, after a day’s wandering.  The sun seemed always to shine, but there was one blustery day when the wind really whipped those waves.

Andros was a great base for visiting the islands of Tinos and Syros, and that’s where I’ll be taking you next.  But not before sharing my all time favourite Greek Island photograph, taken right here on Andros.

What do you think?

What do you think?

A tale or two : Mykonos and Delos

Little Venice, Mykonos- courtesy of Wikipedia

Little Venice, Mykonos- courtesy of Wikipedia

Did you ever press the Publish button accidentally?  Hmm?  Momentary panic!

Normally I check and triple check my posts before launching them, but I must have had a twitchy finger when I published Santorini.  It was my intention to slip the islands of Mykonos and Delos into a paragraph or two at the end of the post.  I wasn’t there for long, and crucially, the photos of these two, along with Naxos, are missing from my collection.

But twitch I did, and before I knew it, Santorini was out there!  Reading through the published content, I decided to leave well alone.  Maybe it was meant- Santorini surely deserves a post of its own.

But what to do about Mykonos and Delos?  Why, own up, of course.  So, yet again, it’s my pal Wikipedia to the rescue.

Remnants of the Greek theatre, Delos- courtesy of Wikipedia

Remnants of the Greek theatre, Delos- courtesy of Wikipedia

I remember feeling distinctly underwhelmed as the boat docked at Delos.  A barren island, with limited water supply, according to Greek mythology it was the birthplace of Apollo and Artemis.  Delos became a major cult centre and place of pilgrimage, and to ensure its purity, it was decreed that no-one be allowed to give birth or die on the island.  It is a strangely atmospheric place.  To me it felt sad, the lions no longer commanding due respect.  From the summit of Mount Kynthos, the panorama of the Cyclades below.

The Terrace of the Lions was dedicated to Apollo- source Wikipedia

The Terrace of the Lions was dedicated to Apollo- source Wikipedia

Establishment of the Poseidoniasts

Establishment of the Poseidoniasts

Mosaic floor in the House of the Dolphins- source Wikipedia

Mosaic floor in the House of the Dolphins- source Wikipedia

It was hot on the island, with little shade, and I admit my priority was to reach Mykonos.  I was eager to see for myself the red roofed churches and to idle through narrow whitewashed streets.  The harbour was just as I expected.

Chora- Mykonos Town- courtesy of Wikipedia

Chora- Mykonos Town- courtesy of Wikipedia

There was far too little time, on a day trip including Delos, to do justice to Mykonos.  I was left with an overall impression of beauty and romance.  Probably good to leave it that way.

Looking down on Mykonos- courtesy of Wikipedia

Looking down on Mykonos- courtesy of Wikipedia

A tale or two : Santorini

Santorini

A lot of people who’ve been there, and many who have not, will recognise this shot.  It’s one of the worlds’s iconic images :  the majesty that is Santorini.

There can be few more exciting sights in the world than this island, approached from the sea, across the Caldera.

Through the caldera

She is a survivor, Santorini.  The striations in the rock colour testify to the volcanic activity that almost blew her out of the sea.  Edging towards her, you cannot but help be filled with awe.

Approaching Santorini

But then the awe gives way to mild terror as you dock and realise that all the way to the top is to be accomplished on the back of a donkey!  A humble beast of burden, it may well be, but never think that a donkey might not have a mind of its own.  And, naturally, that mind conflicts strongly with your own.  The memory of sitting helplessly on its back, gazing down at certain death, as it lowered its head over the low stone wall to graze the sparse grass- well, let’s just say it’s not one of my better ones.

A whack on the rump (it’s, not mine) had us lurching upwards again, and it was without a trace of sorrow that I parted company with the beast at the cliff top.  I’m sure I detected a smirk on its face, but then, you’d have to find pleasure somewhere if you toiled up and down these slopes all day.

Looking down from Santorini

Michael is not at all a fan of cable cars and dangling in the air, but even he agreed that it would be preferable to “descent by donkey”.  Me, I absolutely love them, and never more so than on that day.   In the meantime, there was exploring to be done.

More bells, Santorini

Bells, Santorini

You know that I don’t have much expertise in this, so I should tell you that these photos are all Michael’s and completely unedited.

A tale or two : Paros

As the snow twirls gently outside the window, and the daffodils shiver, now is not such a bad time to be drifting back to my Greek idyll.  Remember my Athens post?  Personally, I will never forget Athens!

Up there with the pilot

I was fairly new to flying in those days, so it was with not a little trepidation that I tiptoed across the tarmac. (it was hot! even in May)  Negotiating Athens airport to the Domestic flights had been tricky enough, but when I looked at the tiny Messerschmitt (my husband’s memory for these things is SO much better than mine), my heart was in my mouth.  I would be practically sitting in the driving seat!

I needn’t have worried though.  After a few collywobbles, we were sweeping out across the bay and I was spellbound.

Flying high

For as long as I can remember I had dreamed of the Greek Islands, and now here I was flying over them.  I had had just the tiniest taste of the Greek experience on Corfu the previous year, and it had only served to whet my appetite.  The dream was always to island hop, but using Paros as a base meant that I could see quite a few islands in my miserly two weeks holiday.

Swooping down on to this dry and arid looking land, my stomache churned with excitement.  How different was this world!  Small case in hand, it was down the steps and straight into a tiny shed which passed for Customs and passport control.  The “officer” in his short sleeved blue shirt genially waved us through, and that was it- arrival!

The seafront at Parikia- courtesy of Wikipedia

The seafront at Parikia- courtesy of Wikipedia

Parikia, our island base, was all that I could have hoped for.  The Meltemi was said to blow strongly in the Summer, but I could detect barely a whisper of breeze.

Panagia Ekatontapiliani

Panagia Ekatontapiliani- again the image from Wikipedia

The bluest of doors

The bluest of doors

Treasured memories?  A sprig of lavender in a table top jar in the little port of Naoussa.  The heat toasting us brown as we linked hands round a beer, scarcely believing that this was real.  A donkey, turning his hatted head to watch us from the shade.

The winding streets of Parikia in the evening and a favourite restaurant with an upstairs balcony overlooking the gentle hubbub.  The pancakes from that same restaurant, strewn with honey, nuts and icecream.

Street in Lefkes village

Street in Lefkes village

A visit to the hillside village of Lefkes, gripping the shade for all I was worth.  Foolhardy to be there in the heat of the day, but at the mercy of the bus timetable.

The shallow bay on Antiparos, where I lay full length in the water while Michael went in search of icecream.  I don’t remember eating it so maybe he ate mine too, or it melted on the way back.

The port of Naxos- courtesy of Wikipedia

The port of Naxos- courtesy of Wikipedia

The best, best memory of all?  Sitting on the waterfront in Naxos town.  The ferry ride across to Naxos had me skipping like a kid.  I was doing it!  I was island hopping!  A walk around the mighty gate of Apollo, in isolation in the harbour, had me wondering.  Who were these people who had accomplished so much?

The entrance to Apollo's Temple- courtesy of Wikipedia

The entrance to Apollo’s Temple- courtesy of Wikipedia

Time for a mooch round the back streets and then the obligatory beer.  The sea shimmered and glinted as I sat under a stripey awning and just gazed and gazed.  A moment in time never to be recaptured except in my imagination.  I wanted never to leave.

Sailing away

Sailing away

I need to add a postscript here.  You might have noticed that some, though not all, of the photos are courtesy of Wikipedia.  This visit took place 26 years ago.  Going back through my photo albums I discovered that they stop abruptly with the island of Santorini, which was also part of this holiday.  I have searched and searched and can find neither photos nor postcards before this, though I can remember some of the shots quite vividly in my head.  Sadly I cannot share them with you, but only paint the pictures with words.

I do urge you to visit the Wikipedia pages I have linked to on Paros, Antiparos and Naxos if you have time.  There is so much there that I could not tell you in this simple post.  I know it’ll have you longing to visit too.