These last two islands I’m grouping together because, frankly, they were pretty boring. Not that they weren’t enjoyable, it’s just that beach vacations have never interested me much. When I make my millions and retire to a life of luxury, you won’t find me on a sandy beach soaking up the rays. I’d rather be hiking in the mountains or navigating my way through an “undiscovered” country life, staring at the old men and women who, to me, usually represent the true face of a culture, like the Greek fishermen on the islands. More than likely, though, I’ll be an old bureaucrat working in a basement just trying to find my stapler.
ANYWAY, Syros was the next island and, interestingly enough, one that we weren’t even supposed to visit. In fact, the only reason we were there was because our captain (who scored a D- in Kate’s gradebook for unnecessary and unintelligible announcements that woke us up each morning) was probably too drunk on ouzo to remember which island we were really supposed to go to that day (Folegandros). So, there we were, on some island we’d never heard of and weren’t prepared for…but we made the most of it anyway.
ANYWAY, Syros was the next island and, interestingly enough, one that we weren’t even supposed to visit. In fact, the only reason we were there was because our captain (who scored a D- in Kate’s gradebook for unnecessary and unintelligible announcements that woke us up each morning) was probably too drunk on ouzo to remember which island we were really supposed to go to that day (Folegandros). So, there we were, on some island we’d never heard of and weren’t prepared for…but we made the most of it anyway.
Actually, it was a good one. On this island, the commercial, political, and judicial hub of the Cyclades, we enjoyed a small museum of Cycladic archeological discoveries and a pleasing lack of tourist-focused shops. Unlike the other islands, you see, which only have whitewashed buildings and small, isolated towns and beaches that seem to beguile tourists around the world, Syros had a veritable city, decorated with non-Greek architecture, and few beaches. The architecture, I should say, looked it came straight from the Italian Riviera – stately and ornate neoclassical buildings, painted in pastels that were attractively peeling from the hot sun. 
Nice to look at from the port, certainly, but even nicer (we found out after a long walk) from the top looking down. Here’s a picture of the Gargurevichs doing so.
After our sweaty walk up and back down the steep streets of the main city on this island – each with darling views of the sparkling, turquoise water – we wanted nothing more than to dip ourselves in the ocean. So, we bought some spanikopita (which was at this point becoming a daily lunch occurrence), and headed to one of the few beaches on the island: Kini beach, a long, sandy strip that offered a great view of the setting sun.
Afterward we had dinner at a small taverna where I confidently ordered what turned out to be a mayonnaise salad. My thighs now rub together.
Serifos was the next and final island of our adventure.
Since this was our last night of the cruise and we had to be off the boat at the god-awful hour of 9 a.m., we decided to switch our schedule and go to the beach first. And, as this island was home to Psili Ammos, the beach the London Times in 2003 described as “Europe’s best,” we decided to head straight to it, crowds and all.
Although I wouldn’t even have described it as the best beach of our trip, it was certainly nice, with warm water, a sandy bottom, and a few secluded caves. I enjoyed my time there by building a drip castle.
On our way back from the beach we realized the sad state of public transportation on this island. The distances were too far to go by foot and taxis were few and far between (someone said there were only four on the entire island). So, the only feasible method of transport was the bus. Unfortunately, the bus back to the port was so overcrowded that many people – including Kate and Kathryn – couldn’t make it on. 
This was ironic, you see, as we were the first ones at the bus stop. (What does that say about pushy Europeans?) Anyway, Kate and Kathryn successfully hitched a ride back to the port and can now proudly say they’ve hitchhiked in a foreign country.
After showering, we took an incredibly and almost laughably overcrowded bus up to the Hora, which nested like a crown way, way, way up on the top of the mountain.
The Hora was pleasantly charming, we thought. Large enough to be livable but small enough to have very little – if any – crime, it offered great views and likable alleyways. The only problem for us was transportation. Without taxis and without the option to walk back down to the port (too far and with too many spiky plants along the way), our only option was the bus.
So, during an enjoyable dinner at a place called Zorba’s, we decided it was best to cut our meal short and make the second-to-last bus rather than risk being pushed off the last bus of the night, thereby leaving us in this charming town and relying on Kate and Kathryn’s newly acquired hitchhiking skills. So, we did…without problems. Here’s a picture of me on the way to the bus eating a sandwich I made with the food we were going to leave on the table (I hate leaving food uneaten).
And after some loukomades (honey donuts) and a quick game of backgammon, we were back on the boat and ostensibly done with our Greek voyage. It was relaxing, frustrating, sunny, sandy, garlicky, and fun. We’d seen the quirky tourism of big ports, the unwound lifestyle of sleepy villages, altitudinous peaks, tranquil beaches, dazzlingly transparent waters, and lots of old Greek fisherman.
From alpha to omega, we’d seen what the Cyclades islands had to offer and were quite satisfied with our trip. Now it was time to head back to the civilized world – in fact, to the place where the model for all Western civilizations began: Athens.
After showering, we took an incredibly and almost laughably overcrowded bus up to the Hora, which nested like a crown way, way, way up on the top of the mountain.
The Hora was pleasantly charming, we thought. Large enough to be livable but small enough to have very little – if any – crime, it offered great views and likable alleyways. The only problem for us was transportation. Without taxis and without the option to walk back down to the port (too far and with too many spiky plants along the way), our only option was the bus.
So, during an enjoyable dinner at a place called Zorba’s, we decided it was best to cut our meal short and make the second-to-last bus rather than risk being pushed off the last bus of the night, thereby leaving us in this charming town and relying on Kate and Kathryn’s newly acquired hitchhiking skills. So, we did…without problems. Here’s a picture of me on the way to the bus eating a sandwich I made with the food we were going to leave on the table (I hate leaving food uneaten).And after some loukomades (honey donuts) and a quick game of backgammon, we were back on the boat and ostensibly done with our Greek voyage. It was relaxing, frustrating, sunny, sandy, garlicky, and fun. We’d seen the quirky tourism of big ports, the unwound lifestyle of sleepy villages, altitudinous peaks, tranquil beaches, dazzlingly transparent waters, and lots of old Greek fisherman.From alpha to omega, we’d seen what the Cyclades islands had to offer and were quite satisfied with our trip. Now it was time to head back to the civilized world – in fact, to the place where the model for all Western civilizations began: Athens.
1 comment:
Great post Justin. That hike up to the top, or seeming top, of Syros was ungodly hot and steep, and I don't remember the beach on that island. Too many beaches!! I agree with you about laying around in the sun not being much fun, but I do enjoy swimming and most especially snorkeling.
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