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Published: March 11th 2023
Where there is love there is no darkness… ~ Greek Proverb
HE SAID... Today we were exploring the beautiful island of
Syros.
We woke early to a strong sea breeze buffeting the township of Ermoupoli. The collapsible table and chairs on our small balcony were bearing the brunt of the gusts, so I brought them inside the room. I grabbed a takeaway tea and coffee from the cafe next to our hotel, and the staff was very friendly. They didn’t speak English, but they understood my order. They seemed bemused by my request for a takeaway tea, and had to go in search of a teabag. Coffee is evidently far more popular for Syriots as an early morning beverage.
We had a clear objective for the day ahead. We wanted to explore Ano Syros and Vrondado, the two main hills of Ermoupoli. The hills are characterised by the commanding churches upon them, and we were focused on visiting both – the Cathedral of St George on Ano Syros, and the Orthodox Church of Resurrection on Vrondado. We could see both hills and their respective churches from our hotel room, and while our planned walk looked daunting, we knew the views from the hills would be fantastic.
We
headed out in the mid-morning, having decided to explore Ano Syros first (because it was closest to us). There was a direct road to Ano Syros right outside our hotel, so it was the obvious choice. Ano Syros is described as a ‘medieval’ or ‘old’ town, and it is sometimes referred to as Catholic Ano Syros. For whatever reason, the hills of Ermoupoli are differentiated by religious allegiances – the Catholics have Ano Syros and the Greek Orthodox Christians have Vrondado. Integration may sound noble in theory, but it doesn’t always play out in practice.
Anyway, back to our self-guided walking tour. We made our way up through the suburban streets of Ermoupoli until the road stopped and steps started. It was steep going, especially in the searing heat from the late-morning sun. There were cats everywhere, which slowed our ascent considerably. Ren had to stop and pat every feline we encountered… 😊
We chanced upon Braziliana, a tiny cafe with an extraordinary view of the port of Ermoupoli through its tiny windows. It also offered a fantastic line-of-sight view of the Orthodox Church of Resurrection over on Vrondado. The childhood residence of Markos Vamvarkaris, a Greek composer
and musician who is deemed the forefather of
rembetika (a genre of Greek urban music), was less than a minutes’ walk from the cafe. By sheer luck, we had found ourselves in the heart of a subculture that appealed to both of us. I love this type of travel exploration. We set out to visit two buildings on two hills, with no idea how to get to either. As we walked, we encountered daily life on this small Greek island.
We didn’t enter the museum, but we absolutely loved Braziliana. The cafe had a rembetika feel, and the panoramic view of Ermoupoli and the glimmering Aegean Sea was nothing short of breathtaking. We refreshed with some welcome cold drinks and a complimentary plate of fresh local white grapes, then continued our ascent towards the Cathedral of St George.
We quickly realised the church was no longer visible. The labyrinth of small buildings on top of Ano Syros, coupled with narrow lanes and steep steps going every which way, restricted our view to what was immediately around us. When we looked upwards, we could only see the blue cloudless sky. For the first time since setting out, we had
to navigate towards a location we would no longer see.
We were lost, but in a good way. We took a few wrong turns, and had to turn back a few times, all the while enjoying the experience immensely. At one stage we met a postman, or possibly a courier. He was on foot and exhausted, delivering letters from a large bag slung over his shoulder. I said hello and asked ‘Cathedral of St George?’ in a questioning tone. He smiled and pointed upwards. We knew it was up. We just wanted to know which narrow lane and steep set of steps we should take to get there. However, the path to the cathedral was so ingrained and entrenched in his memory, he felt it would be obvious to anyone as close as we were. So we decided to follow the path he had just come from, and lo and behold, we arrived at the cathedral within minutes.
The view from the cathedral was breathtaking. I was mesmerised by the stark arid hills surrounding Ermoupoli, which were so strikingly augmented by the cloudless blue sky. Tiny whitewashed houses dotted the parched landscape, with narrow dusty roads twisting between
them. I was so taken with the view from the cathedral, I momentarily forgot to look at the cathedral itself. It was grandiose, of course. As we walked inside, the cool air enveloped us, and it was a welcome relief from the searing midday sun. The ceiling was very high, giving the place an overwhelming sense of magnitude. While the atmosphere was calm and tranquil, it didn’t have a ‘closeness to god’ ambience (for me at least). I think smaller churches have an intimacy that larger churches struggle to match.
We retraced our steps back down the narrow cobblestone lanes of Ano Syros before turning towards our next challenge – Vrondado. We could see the hill and the Orthodox Church of Resurrection sitting atop it, but getting there was another thing altogether. We slowly made our way down to a large main road that cut between the two hills and their segregated communities, passing small groups of schoolkids along the way. On crossing the busy road, we found ourselves in a different neighbourhood altogether. Narrow cobblestone lanes gave way to bitumen roads and footpaths, and there were few (if any) local shops. The ascent looked daunting and we were
flagging. The early afternoon sun was very intense, and the empty suburban streets offered no shelter. Would we make it without sustenance?
We hadn’t come this far to give up, so we struggled up the zigzagging roads and steep steps towards the Orthodox Church of Resurrection. While the climb was long and difficult, it was well worth the effort. The views from the quiet leafy surrounds of the church were impressive, but marred slightly by ugly new-builds that should never have received approval from whoever regulates building on the island.
We were much closer to the main town centre of Ermoupoli on this hill. The waterfront buildings and streets were directly beneath us. We lingered for a while in the peaceful shady gardens, but we didn’t enter the church. Not from a lack of interest. There was just too much happening around us. A well-dressed bloke and his exhibitionistic wife (I think the common term is ‘mutton dressed as lamb’) had embarked on a photo shoot only metres from where we were sitting, and I was lost for words. I think I still am. Their pièce de résistance was a photo of her straddling one of the cannons
(Cher-like) in the fortified surrounds of the old church. Why here? Why outside this peaceful orthodox church? Who was the intended audience? There are certain things in life that you see and wish you hadn’t, and try as you might, you can never unsee them. This woman on the cannon was one of them.
It was time for lunch, but I needed to somehow extinguish the image of what we’d just experienced. Maybe a beer would help. We headed downhill from Vrondado to the waterfront, where we found a tiny hole-in-the-wall eatery with a very apt and simple title:
Street… Food. The brash but affable owner set up a collapsible table on the street for us, as there were no tables inside. There was barely enough room for the owner. We realised we were in a very local area of Ermoupoli, because a green grocer and butcher were busily serving local customers just across the street.
We ordered a selection of Greek pastries, and they matched perfectly with a couple of cold beers (Amstel and Alfa). At the end of our mid-afternoon lunch on the street, we felt re-energised for the walk home! We headed back to Hotel
Archontissa and settled on our balcony with cold beers (for me) and fresh figs. What a fantastic way to end a fantastic day of walking in the hills of Ermoupoli! Had I been able to unsee the woman on the cannon? Unfortunately, no. But I know I will. Someday…
We piled into a minibus around 6pm and drove to San Michalis, a remote town with few residents on a high northern point of the island. We passed the Cathedral of St George on the way, then continued upward into the hills above Ermoupoli. The landscape was covered in dry stone walls in various states of decay, with the occasional small stone building dotting the landscape.
When we eventually arrived in the tiny township San Michalis, we clambered out of the minibus and walked a short distance to an amazing viewpoint. We could see the nearby islands of Mykonos, Tinos and Andros in the hazy Aegean Sea. Retracing our steps along a dusty uneven path, we pushed open an old wooden gate into Plakostroto, a hilltop taverna with an amazing view over the Aegean Sea.
Plakostroto is extraordinary, and I’m not using the adjective lightly here. It truly
is a special place. As we relaxed around an outside table in the warm evening, I could see distant wind turbines, dry stone walls and basic stone structures (some of which were crumbling into the earth). I could see shadowy outlines of islands across the dusky Aegean Sea. I could hear the quiet voices of farmers from nearby houses. The surrounding landscape was arid and rocky, and from this viewpoint on top of the island, the setting sun was sublime. It was just incredible!
As we watched (in a slightly hypnotic state) the sun slowly melt into the western horizon, we feasted on a selection of amazing dishes, including:
> Greek salad (tomato, cucumber, onion, green pepper, olives, capers, feta cheese and wild oregano)
> chickpea salad (chickpeas mixed with tomato, cucumber, green pepper, spring onion, spinach, fresh basil and a lemon-and-olive-oil dressing)
> caper dip (caper, yogurt, mayonnaise, spring onion, olive oil and vinegar)
> zucchini chips with a potato-garlic dip
> San Michali cheese (very local)
> Syros pork and fennel sausages (very local)
> pork with thyme and chips
> ice cream (complimentary).
I enjoyed a small jug of rose, while Ren enjoyed a small
jug of white wine. It was a truly extraordinary evening, and one of those travel experiences I know we’ll never forget. Whenever I think of Greece, I will always remember the sunset at Plakostroto on the northern tip of Syros.
When we finished grazing, we clambered into the minibus and headed back to Ano Syros along dark and deserted island roads, arriving around 9pm. We strolled the same narrow lanes and steps we’d explored earlier in the day, and we settled outside Braziliana, the very same cafe we’d dropped into for refreshments on our way to the Cathedral of St George. Ren ordered a cocktail, while I opted for an
ouzo (an aniseed flavoured spirit) – which was amazing. We sat on steps in the lane outside Braziliana and chatted into the night with our travel companions.
A young couple sitting along from us had a hyperactive dog who clearly loved his ball. He would drop the ball and let it roll down the lane towards us, pleading with his eyes for someone to pick it up and throw it back to him. Which we did. All night. If we happened to misjudge the ball, we would have
to run after it as it disappeared down the steep lane. All the while, his friendly owners chatted together without the slightest concern about the ball being lost (or the dog disappearing after it).
Ren picked up an exquisite necklace at Eliza’s Kamomata, a bespoke jewellery store directly opposite Braziliana. The more time we spent in Ano Syros, the more we realised it reflected a style of life that we both held dearly. With rembetika music drifting down the narrow lanes, I imagined life on a small island in the Cyclades. It was very, very appealing.
As the night drew to a close, we descended from Ano Syros by foot. It was fairly dark, so we carefully navigated the narrow cobblestone lanes and steep steps on our return journey to Hotel Archontissa. We were leaving for Mykonos the next day (by ferry). Fortunately, it was a mid-morning start, so we didn’t have to wake early. We were exhausted, so the option of a sleep-in was alluring.
SHE SAID... I woke to the sound of traffic on the road three stories below us. We were in a very residential area of Ermoupoli in
Syros and despite
having a roundabout in the square our hotel was on, it had thankfully been quiet all night. I love watching a town wake up, so I slipped out onto our balcony in the hope of seeing locals preparing for their day. I was disappointed to find that what had sounded like a lively morning was just the morning coffee rush at the cafe next to our hotel entrance.
Hotel Archontissa didn’t offer breakfast, so Andrew kept popping downstairs to join the cafe queue and get us cups of tea and coffee while we got ready for our day. We did feel a bit silly when we later realised there was a kettle in one of the cupboards in our room… oh well.
We had a full free day before we were meeting our group for dinner, and Andrew and I wanted to explore the two hills that picturesquely overlook the city. One of the hills carries the neighbourhood of Ano Syros and its Catholic church, and the other had an Orthodox church and its neighbourhood of Vrondado. They were our ultimate goals for the day… but whether we’d manage to get to them both was totally dependent on
Apollo (the sun god), my post-COVID lungs and Andrew’s navigational skills. 😄
We were going to start with the hill closest to us – the medieval white village of Ano Syros (the old town) with the Catholic St George’s Cathedral. We could see the church from our balcony, and the path looked high and steep… so we wanted to get an earlyish start. When Nasos told them of our plans, our hotel receptionists had looked very dubious about us walking to Ano Syros, but nonetheless pointed us in the direction that would take us there on the most direct path… well, more or less.
The walk started promisingly. We passed locals watering pot plants on the balconies of their stone houses, and others returning with bread from the local bakery. Apart from an occasional scooter bumping past on the cobblestone street, we were the only ones out and about. Our first stop was a neighbourhood church at the top of the road, about 10 minutes from our hotel. To be honest, even though it was a beautiful marble church with an interesting looking cemetery, I was mostly drawn into its courtyard by the cats sleeping on the church
steps.
After trying (unsuccessfully) to convince the suspicious cats that I was friendly, we kept walking until the cobblestone road ended. At this point we started meandering our way up the stone steps that led to small lanes… and onto more steps, and more steps.
Within minutes of reaching the steps, we were warmly greeted by the first of many friendly cats in Ano Syros. A little black and white kitty had been sleeping in the sun, but on hearing our footsteps it ran to us as if greeting returning family. To be honest, I’d felt a bit miffed that the church cats had rejected my hand of friendship, so couldn’t help being overjoyed to have these kitties approach us with no fear. A couple of the more trusting ones even wriggled into my lap when I sat down to pat them! I feel so honoured when an animal trusts me implicitly, but the flip side is that it’s hard not to take it personally when they don’t… 😲 😄
By now we were among the whitewashed buildings of the old town. The steps started narrowing, and at times the main path confusingly branched into multiple options.
We had to ask directions a couple of times, because we didn’t want to make the wrong choice and end up at a dead end (and then walk all the way back down, and up again!). A lady at a clothing shop gave us a very handy tip that the main path (which was similar in size and look as all the branching side paths) had a white marble drainage channel running down the centre.
As steep as the climb was, it was an incredibly beautiful walk. The white steps and twisting alleys had stone arches and vibrant pink and purple bougainvillea growing out of the smallest bits of dirt. The white homes with brightly coloured doors and windows sometimes felt like erratically stacked blocks of giant white Jenga. Clothes flapped on lines against stone walls, and a few artisan-type shops popped out of nowhere. Even the graffiti in Ano Syros was of a tidy and arty nature! The serene atmosphere almost made me wish that we were staying in a hotel up here.
We stopped at Braziliana, the first cafe we came upon that was open. It was a very cute arty place with a front room
facing the path, and a tiny backroom with a million-dollar view of Ermoupoli and the Aegean Sea beyond it. We were the only customers this early in the day, and we took the best table in front of a large window with a 180-degree view. To the very right of the frame we could see the other hill we would be walking to later, and to the very left of the frame sat our hotel. No sooner had we sat down than the owner gave us a plate of tiny little golden grapes from his garden that were seriously sweet and delicious. I ordered an iced hibiscus tea and Andrew cooled down with a
freddo cappuccino (a cappuccino served over ice).
We had really needed a break from walking, but the cafe space was so beautiful that I almost questioned if we
REALLY needed to keep walking uphill. 😄
As we sat there trying to motivate ourselves to leave, two German tourists joined us. While making small talk with them, they mentioned that this was their fifth trip to Syros on a summer riding holiday! They’d been coming with a cycling group to the Cyclades islands for many
years, picking a different selection of islands each year. Every year.
When we told them it was our first time in Syros, I braced myself for the usual ‘this place was so much better back in xxxx’ that some older obnoxious tourists like to wield about. But it never came. The guy had told us that they only stepped into the cafe to watch the 11:30am Blue Star ferry from Athens arrive into port, and he trailed off mid-sentence when the ferry came into view.
I suppose having an intense fascination with ferries is no different to the hobby of trainspotting. This was our cue to give up the table with a view and let him geek out at the Blue Star ferry. It was odd to think that we had been on that same ferry only the day before, and would also be on that ferry when it left Syros the next day.
Forcing that last thought out of my head, we made the last push to reach the top of the hill. After a false alarm when the stone belltower of another church (St Nicholas of the poor) led us on a wild goose chase,
we finally saw the beautiful marble belltower of St George’s Cathedral. Yet, for the life of us, we couldn’t find the steps that led up into the cathedral. It was guarded by high walls, and I felt like we circled the whole summit before we found a discreet entrance tucked into an alcove in a wall.
Once we reached the cathedral, we had hoped to get a panoramic view of Ermoupoli and the sea, but the doors leading to the forecourt were locked. Luckily one of the side wings (I think a monastery) had a balcony that gave us a beautiful view of the hills behind Ermoupoli. By this stage I was sure the cathedral would also be locked, but thankfully it wasn’t. It was a gorgeous church with a beautiful open and welcoming feel. Despite really loving a few of the Orthodox churches we’ve visited, on the whole I tend to find them very dark and seriously cluttered. I suppose I’m more used to the airy style and decor of Catholic churches.
The cathedral had been first built in 1208, but had been destroyed (and rebuilt) a few times in its history. We had the entirety of
the cathedral to ourselves, apart from a man who did a super quick loop, took one hasty photo and left. We realised his rush later; his very tired and annoyed looking partner was waiting for him at the bottom of the hill. 😊
While reflecting on the secure and protected construction of St George’s Cathedral, I realised I hadn’t questioned why Ano Syros had been settled in such a way. It felt like a citadel without the defensive city walls. Apparently, it was settled by Catholic Venetians at the start of the 13th century, and the three gates to the settlement used to be secured with heavy wooden doors that were locked at night. The Catholic population probably also survived in large part to being a French-protectorate during the Ottoman Empire.
With our first goal for the day achieved, we walked back down the hill to try and find a way to cross to the neighbouring hill. By now it was just past midday, and the sun was merciless. We crossed the wide-open area between the two hills via a main road. This area had terraces of low stone walls that secured the hillside. There were a few
rows of squat olive trees, but the rest was an expanse of bare brown earth.
We eventually reached the newer suburbs (compared to medieval Ano Syros anyway) of the second hill. This was an Orthodox community, and most of it was settled in the 19th century, but the apartments we first came upon looked like a mid-20th century extension of that first settlement. Due to the openness of the roads and buildings here, we could witness a bit more of the local life – groups of schoolkids sat in the shade of trees, old women were beating rugs hanging on their apartment balconies, and others talked to their passing friends through the metal grates on their front room windows.
We could faintly see the large twin spires of the Orthodox Church of Resurrection high on the hill. I felt happy to have our second goal within sight, but the neighbourhood of Vrondado lacked the shade provided by the close-knit buildings of Ano Syros. I was starting to tire at this point, and we really wanted to take the most direct way up to the top of the hill.
While consulting our map, we decided to ask for
help from an older man who’d just parked his motorbike near us. He didn’t speak much English, but he got the gist of what we were asking. He pointed to the church we wanted to get to and said ‘Orthodox’, then pointed to himself and said ‘Catholic’. After a slight pause, he pointed to us and asked ‘Catholic?’; and on Andrew’s affirmative nod in my direction, he told us that the Catholic church in Ano Syros was better. Realising we’d asked the wrong person, we thanked him and started walking off. In a last-ditch effort, he pointed to the hill and repeated ‘Not Catholic’. He was grinning of course, but I was still a bit taken aback by his cheekiness.
The brochures on Syros suggest that the locals are very proud of the ‘peaceful’ coexistence of Catholics and Orthodox Christians, even pointing to their joint celebration of Easter etc. However, given us humans aren’t always as nice as we’d like to think we are… I suspect that the reality of living in a community with deep ethnic and religious differences may not be as harmonious as the brochures suggest.
Thankfully it didn’t take us very long to get
to the top of the hill and find the 19th century stone Church of Resurrection with its blue dome. Even more thankfully, there was plenty of shade from the many pine trees around the church. Unfortunately, the church was locked. Well, I say that… but I don’t really know for sure that it was. I saw someone try to push the main door open, but it didn’t move… so I assumed the door was locked. This demonstrates how tired I was, that I didn’t even have the will to walk a few metres to check for myself!
The view of Ermoupoli from the church forecourt was absolutely lovely; however, the view of the shabby jumbled buildings around the church was quite the opposite. How could they allow such rampant unplanned buildings within metres of an icon of the city? We rested in the shade for a while, but the delicious smell of lunch wafting from the homes down the hill reminded us that we were quite hungry.
We walked back down to the centre of Ermoupoli at a rate of knots; not just assisted by gravity, but also in an effort to avoid the very hot and sunny
streets. As hot and bothered as I was, it was hard to ignore the beauty of the cascading white and pastel pink houses with those pops of vivid bougainvillea that I couldn’t get enough of. The steep steps also gave us a direct line of sight to the harbour and sparking sea below us. This was the main 19th century Orthodox settlement – they’d clearly chosen parts of the hill that had the best water views!
Back on flat ground, we wandered through the streets looking for a lunch spot. The main centre of Syros is small but beautiful. We walked along the marble streets, past row upon row of boutique stores, and through smaller lanes filled with cafes and restaurants. We ended up at the main waterfront area, and checked out a statue we’d seen from a distance the day before. The monument commemorates the heroes of the Greek Resistance, and is represented by an angel facing the Aegean Sea with a sword in one hand and a laurel wreath in the other. I loved the way she has God (Church of the Resurrection) and the Government (the Town Hall) in a straight line behind her.
The
waterfront area has rows of shops and restaurants facing the harbour, and what looks like a large shipping warehouse at the end of it. We’d intended on eating in this area, but nothing really appealed to us, so we meandered back towards the main square.
While walking through a small market lane with grocers and butchers on either side, we spied a small cafe / bakery simply called Street…Food that wasn’t much bigger than a hole in the wall. We ordered a couple of stuffed egg buns and some olive pastries and sat down at a tiny table on the footpath. The young woman running the place seemed to know everyone in the market, and it was fun being immersed in a very local space with the market traffic weaving around us.
By now I was more than ready for a cup of tea and an afternoon nap. We’d left the hotel at 10:15am that morning and we returned at 3:15pm. We were sunburned and tired… but very much overflowing with travel happiness. To top things off, we came back to a note in our room from Nasos (our group leader) who’d left us some figs as a
treat. They were delicious! 😊
After a very restorative nap and a reviving cup of tea, we got ready for our evening adventure. We met the rest of the group in the late afternoon, and caught a minibus to the tiny hamlet of San Michalis on the northern tip of the island. The drive there showed us how really stark the island is. The unrelenting dry dark brown earth was desolate, but in an oddly beautiful way. The twisting narrow road took us past lone white buildings, dry stone walls, ruins of stone huts, and the occasional herd of goats. At one point wind turbines loomed large above us, but disappeared with another bend in the road. It’s probably a very weird analogy, but the landscape reminded me of the wavey folds of a chocolate cake batter when being poured into a baking tray. 😊
We eventually reached tiny San Michalis. We walked along a stoney path and looked at some ruins of abandoned houses before backtracking to look at the miniscule white Church of St Michael. The church was gorgeous, and its setting was stunning! It sits alone on a barren rocky brown hilltop that slopes to
a bright blue sea; with distant islands making the sea feel like a massive lake. By now it was golden hour, and the beautiful light made the setting even more enchanting.
We walked a few metres to Plakostroto, the taverna where we were having dinner. This was an included group dinner, and Nasos had picked this place for its sensational sunset views. We sat down at a long table that had a westward aspect, and while we ordered our drinks the setting sun started performing its magic. The gorgeous sunset colours were only surpassed by the cute one-eyed cat who joined us… and of course, the extremely delicious food!
As with lunch the day before, Nasos suggested ‘family style eating’. He ordered many dishes for us, and it really was a joyous feast. We started with a selection of bread rolls and then shared the following:
> Greek salad
> Chickpea, tomato and cucumber salad
> San Michali cheese (a hard cheese only made in this small hamlet!)
> Caper dip
> Zucchini chips with a potato garlic dip
> Syros pork and fennel sausages and chips
> Pork with thyme, feta and chips
Something I’ve probably
not yet mentioned about wine in Greek tavernas – they serve them by the jug! And our cold jugs of rose and white wine were the perfect drink for this ‘family style eating’. We finished the meal with complimentary ice creams.
Apart from the Greek sausage being too salty for my taste, I absolutely loved all the other dishes. My particular favourite was the local cheese! I’m not usually a fan of hard cheese, but this had a spiciness to it that worked extremely well with the other dishes.
We had got so used to the island being extremely hot that it was a bit of a shock to the system when we discovered it was actually quite cold on this mountain top restaurant. I was very glad Nasos had warned us to bring a jumper.
After dinner the transfer minibus dropped us off at the second gate of Ano Syros, and we walked along the same main path Andrew and I had trodden earlier that day. It was fabulous to see the place at night, especially with a few more shops and bars open. A few group members walked back to the hotel, while the rest
of us stayed on for a drink.
The bar that Nasos had wanted to take us to was unfortunately closed, so we coincidently ended up back at Braziliana (where we’d had drinks earlier that day). The backroom of the bar (with the view) was already packed, so we spilled out onto the path. Andrew had an
ouzo (an aniseed flavoured spirit) and I enjoyed a ‘Spicy Bramble’ cocktail with gin and blackberry liqueur.
It was a lovely night to sit outside with a drink in hand. Braziliana had that lovely organic atmosphere that creates happiness… the music, the lively chatter of other bar patrons, the conversations with our group mates… not to mention a very friendly doggie who wanted nothing more than to have his ball thrown to him. What more could you ask for?
While hanging out on the path, I noticed that a silver jewellery shop I’d seen that morning was now open. I had already bought my piece of souvenir jewellery in Athens. However, it had been a fabulous travel day and Andrew wanted me to have something to remember it by… I’m so spoiled! I bought a necklace with a small handmade silver
cross from Eliza’s Kamomata. The cross caught my attention because the design ingeniously captured both the Orthodox and standard cross shapes. It will always remind me of the duality of Syros. 😊
The night was getting on, and we weren’t getting any younger. After resisting having more drinks, Andrew, Jesse, Romy and I carefully walked down the dark steps and lanes of Ano Syros and on to our hotel. It had been a very long day of lots of sun and lots of walking, and it wasn’t long before we gratefully crashed into bed.
It’s hard to express in words how much I’ve loved our time in Ermoupoli and Syros. If I ever had to portray the word ‘tranquillity’ with a place – I would hold up a photo of Syros. It was beautiful without being showy, confident without being pompous, and graceful without being aloof. But most of all, I loved it for its sense of being a real Greek island that calmly gets on with its life – without pandering to tourists.
I know I’ve already said this about a few other places in Greece, but I could really see us living the Greek island dream in gorgeous Syros! Or, at the very least, we both agreed that we could easily stay on for another week… but our onward travels called.
Next we travel east to Mykonos, known for being the wild child island of the Cyclades.
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Jasmin Baker
non-member comment
Gorgeous place
I love starting my day with your travel stories but do not love getting hungry at the food photos. LOL