Naxos: A Grecian Island Paradise

Saturday, October 01, 2011 Eva 0 Comments

Villa Ira

I’m basking in the warm shade under a Naxian sun on the balcony of Villa Ira, our gorgeous rental home, as I write this piece. The light ricochets off the dazzling white walls making the colours of sky-blue shutters and hot pink bougainvillea seem more vivid and stark. We’re in the ancient land of Greece – of our forefathers - where the sun, after all these millennia, is still worshipped only this time by bronze-skinned Ambre Solaire idolisers. We are on the beautiful Aegean island of Naxos in the little village of Stelida by the seaside.

In the mornings we wake up to sun filtering in through the open French doors with their pale blue drapes that gently sway with the breeze. Sun bounces off the stark white bedroom walls. Each morning when I wake up I never tire of propping up on one elbow and staring through the window in front of the bed before getting up. The view is beautiful at this time of day – looking down at the garden below and across the deep blue of the sea to the island of Paros. At nighttime when all the house lights are turned off the twinkling lights of the villages from the island across the water shine in the dark.I like to stand by the window at this late hour and take in the serene view. A full moon this week has made the nighttime scenery all the more shimmeringly beautiful.

Our local beach

I can keep on waxing lyrically about this Cycladic island of sparkling blue and turquoise beaches and clustered white-washed villages on rocky hill slopes set against a backdrop of hot cloudless blue skies - but there are also the realities of being on a tourist island in summer. There are the ferryloads of tourists arriving several times daily and sharing beachfront towel space with so many other Europeans. Most weekday mornings the sound of construction workers can be heard around the village as more villas go up. We’ve been told that it is illegal on the island to carry on construction in July and August, the height of the tourist season. It’s not stopping the building trade however. Funnily, the construction doesn’t bother us. It makes us feel as though we’re definitely on holidays when others are busy at work.

Beachside chapel

Views from mountain to sea

And then there’s the story of the neighbours. To one side of our villa is scrubby land of wild grasses whilst modern white villas perch further up the hillside behind us. Our rented villa and the handful of others next to and behind ours are connected by a dirt path that leads onto a narrow winding village road. We’ve not met the next door neighbours but we’ve heard them loud and clear, amusing us with their strongly accented voices. He is Greek and sounds old. His voice comes across slow, heavy and raspy. She speaks broken English and broken Greek in a thick unfamiliar accent. So, over the bougainvilleas and cypresses separating our villas and through the kitchen window her faceless voice rises and falls as she moves in and out of the house “I go and I see somesing……and he say 185 evrrros. Toooo expensive” (her voice rises) “…zer left side and zer rrright side. Next time YOU give zer car……and pente evrrro I give to zis people…”.

Often their voices travel in through the French doors of our bedroom upstairs as they sit having their regular midnight chat and cigarette outside on their verandah. Their droning nighttime conversations are starting to act as a kind of muscle relaxant now that we’re getting used to them.

Apeiranthos village scenes

As I’m writing, Max has gone for his daily dip in the cool waters of Agios Prokopios beach, a short stroll down the village road. For much of the first week of our arrival in mid-July it was windy all day every day until evening. Now the winds are calming down, temperatures are hotting up and the seawater is becoming refreshing rather than icy against warm skin. The waters are so calm and crystal clear, making for very pleasant paddling and frolicking.

Alykos Beach

We’re loving the dips at the many beaches around the island but I must admit I’m a hopeless sunbather. I do try to lie there in the sun, like everyone else, but when sweat oozes between the creases of my elbows forming little pools, cricks develop in my neck, my back aches from lying in awkward positions and I need a driptray under my breasts, I honestly can’t stand lying there any longer and give up. How DO the Italians do it so elegantly and so sweatlessly? I’ve watched them laying there for ages, their faces and bodies following the direction of the sun like sunflowers, soaking up the sun’s rays tanning their eyelids. They’ve perfected the flawless deep tan. No red sweaty faces or drippy boobs or damp patches. And…..no dips to cool off and wash away the sweat stains. Amazing!

Sunset drinks by the beach

We’re getting browner though, how can you not under a humid Mediterranean sun, but trying not to work at it – too much sweaty uncomfortable effort required. Many of the European tourists down by the beaches seem to be here for one purpose – to return home with the deepest all-over tan possible to the envy of family and friends. “Oooh, you’re so brown”, I can imagine relatives remark, “It must have been a good holiday”.

Mountain villages serve tasty meals

We’ve rented a car and were fortunately upgraded to a small 4-wheel drive vehicle to zip us around the island.  Exploring the small white-washed hillside villages in the centre of the island, some which have been around since Byzantine times, has been one of our delightful pastimes. To reach these however, means driving up, down and around winding mountain lanes and along narrow roads that squeeze through tightly-built communities.

What a challenge for Max, who’s doing a superb job at driving, particularly when traffic is coming the other way fast down the almost single car- width country lanes. A good sense of judgement is needed so that the car comes out of it with side mirrors and bumpers intact. At one time, our car followed behind a heavy haulage truck that slowly manoeuvred its way inch by inch forwards and backwards through the one main street of a little hamlet. Villagers peered down their balconies to watch the spectacle, oncoming traffic reversed to allow it to get through and people emerged from doorways literally inches from the road to remove parked scooters.

We have stood still near ancient olive groves in the plains and hillside villages of Naxos just listening to the deafening sound of cicadas hidden amongst the gnarled and age-old trees and wildflowers as the midday sun beat down on us. Their sound loud enough to drown out conversation. We have delved around crumbling stone houses and old watch towers from Venetian times as well as the steep backstreets and alleyways of tiny villages. When the nephew of the Doge of Venice captured Naxos in the 1200’s he built himself a fortress castle and many defence towers around the island, many of which remain today though most are in ruins. We have lost ourselves through the medieval labyrinth laneways of Hora, Naxos’ main town, that lead up to its Venetian castle, before changing direction and following the scent of freshly made waffles instead. The food on Naxos, indeed Greece, is one of its joys and highlights.


Since our arrival in Greece, we’re rediscovering this land’s fragrant and fruity-tasting olive oil, of sheep’s milk yoghurt so thick you can stand your spoon in it, tasting all the better when drizzled with rich-tasting forest honey. It is the place for Greek salads of plump tomatoes and refreshing cucumbers weighed down by a dense slice of feta, like a miniature slab of white marble off an ancient ruin, sprinkled with oregano and slathered in olive oil that dares you to mop up its juices with chunks of torn rustic bread.

Luscious baklava and frappe

The smell of herb-marinated souvlakia wafting from the charcoal grills of the tavernas of Athens and Naxos have drawn us in – we are but gullible fish being reeled in on the bait. The joy of biting into sweet, nutty baklava with crispy filo topping as the honeyed syrup oozes out has got to be the nearest to ambrosia of the gods. This sweet is sometimes accompanied by a slab of mastiha icecream.

Hora, Naxos town

Exploring Hora's labyrinth alleyways

The strong, bitter taste of an ice-cold frappe (iced Greek coffee) that has to be tamed with milk and sugar for my palate comes served with a cold glass of water. And the bread – oohhh, the bread! I’m not a bread lover by nature, the smell of bread down the supermarket aisles back home in particular, is offensive to my sense of smell and yet in Greece I can barely eat through a meal without tearing chunks of the crusty local bread to dip into the salad juices or mop up the olive oil.

Our favourite lunchtime meal after a swim as we sit cooling off under our verandah has been mouthwateringly juicy watermelon salad sprinkled with crumbled feta and freshly picked mint from the garden, followed by tangy olives and bread. One of life’s great pleasures. Athens was a four-day Euro-adjustment spell before arriving on this island, coming after 2 1/2 months of travel through China, Mongolia, Russia and Uzbekistan. Surprisingly, it was a great feeling arriving back on familiar territory (third time around), as well as a cool respite (temps in low 30’s) after the intense summer heat of Uzbekistan. Flying into Athens, which appeared below like a mosaic of white marble chips carpeting its rise and fall, we were greeted at the airport by a large sign proclaiming “Welcome to Greece.The ultimate destination for everyone. Just like WIND”. Hahaha, pardon? I hope the reference in the ad was referring to the breezy kind. Is the advertiser aware of the double entendre?

Two highlights of Athens for us were the new Acropolis Museum (stunning show of architectural design and natural light) and meeting up once again over great food and company with Max’s cousin and partner, since our unexpected catch-up in St Petersburg. So now, as the sun’s heat softens it’s time to consider a siesta or to read a good book or take a stroll along the gritty rice-grained seashore, a wonderful sensation on feet that allows for free massage and exfoliation as one walks. Maybe we’ll go for a late afternoon swim. The last of the sunset swimmers drift off around 8 o’clock and restaurants start filling up with diners along the beachfronts of the nearby villages of Agia Anna and Agios Prokopios by 9pm. Late-night dining is the summer tradition which we’ve adopted (naturally), often sitting down to meals as late as 10 o’clock, and café-ing until past midnight.

Alfresco dining at the water's edge

Naxos has been idyllic and more for the two of us. Villa Ira has been a godsend for two weary backpackers. We have savoured, relished and lapped up the relaxed summer lifestyle of this little piece of paradise. In Greek, “hortasame ke fouskosame” – we’re now content and filled.