Greek Islands
"Here the light penetrates directly to the soul, opens the doors and windows of the heart, makes one naked [...] in a metaphysical bliss which makes everything clear without being known."
Henry Miller, The Colossus of Maroussi, Colt Press, 1941.
Α kingdom of sensations
It is impossible for me to remain impassive as I write these lines about the Greek islands. Not after witnessing the breathtaking sea view of the caldera in Santorini twenty years ago, almost leaving me breathless. Not after that scorching noon in Hydra when a million sun rays slid under my skin, expanding every pore, allowing the soul to soar in the dry air, exposed and joyous. And certainly not after that intoxicating evening in Corfu last summer, watching a rising moon cast its silver net over a dark blue sea, weaving through the foliage of a jasmine tree, emanating a fragrance that still lingers in my mind.
The Greek summer ritual
Those who have experienced at least one summer on a Greek island will resonate with the following ritual: At 5 o’clock in the morning, your alarm clock jolts you awake. Peering outside, it’s pitch dark. Despite this abrupt awakening, a peculiar excitement stirs within; Greek ships set sail early in the morning, and so will you. The thrill begins to build.
A couple of hours later, the sun graces the sky, and you find yourself at a Piraeus port gate. Sipping a cold espresso with eyes half-opened, you await the arrival of your friends. Your suitcase feels heavier with each step as you ascend to the upper deck. As the funnels release a deep, echoing whistle, you know it’s time to leave everything behind. The boat now glides across the open sea, and you can feel the northern summer winds, known as Meltemia, sweeping away the stress from the office. Glancing around, you observe life on deck.
The deck is a sacred space for most lovers of Greek summers. Like a floating pronaos—the entrance of an ancient temple preceding the main cult chamber—the deck heralds the commencement of a daily sacramental rite to Helios, the sun God.
A meeting point for people of all ages, cultures, and backgrounds, the deck mirrors a microcosm of life in the Greek countryside. Numerous travelers have attempted to capture this small, bustling world, but none with more precision and humor than Jacques Lacarrière, a French writer who spent over 30 years exploring the landscapes and people of rural Greece from the fifties to the seventies.
Life on deck
“Throughout all my years in Greece, I predominantly journeyed from one island to another on decks. I believe I must have boarded every ship — a euphemistic term for many of them — that served the Cyclades and Sporades. A novel, a chronicle, or perhaps a saga could be written about these dilapidated yet indestructible vessels, floating arks, a true Exodus that, at the time, ferried the nomadic half of Greece from port to port […]
Jacques Lacarrière,
L’été grec, Une Grèce quotidienne de 4000 ans, Plon Terre Humaine, 1976.
A tapestry of landscapes
While most Greek islands promise an exhilarating experience for every taste and expectation. Their diversity in scenery and ambiance is so noteworthy that travelers often seek advice when choosing between islands. In response, I typically pose a question: “What kind of landscape moves you the most?”
Not far from the stark, breathtaking landscapes of the Cyclades, nature enthusiasts are drawn to more lush destinations: the waterfalls of Samothrace and Kithira are a paradise on earth, while on the islands of Corfu, Paxoi, and Skopelos, cypresses and pine trees seem to “drink water from the sea” (a sea of clear turquoise, may I add).
Architecture lovers will be surprised to discover impressive alternatives to the typical blue-and-white settings: The towns of Chania (Crete), Symi, and Kastellorizo, with their colorful houses in ocher, green, sky-blue, or pink, evoke the playful ambiance of Italian islands such as Murano in the Venetian Lagoon or Procida in the Gulf of Naples. The finely preserved medieval castles in Rhodes and Patmos still echo the swords of the Knights who fought there 800 years ago.
The Grand Tour
From the era of the Crusades, marked by pirate invasions and missionary expeditions, to the Grand Tour of the French and English intellectuals in the 19th century, the Greek islands have consistently attracted historians, archeologists, naturalists, philosophers and writers. The selected travel notes below describe landscapes and lifestyles which are not only unique to each island, but have also withstood the wearing effect of time.
In Corfu, for example, you will explore the frivolous and light-hearted spirit of the locals; a centuries-old joie de vivre expressed through their generous nature, close-knit communities, and passion for music. In Ermoupoli, the capital city of Syros, you will discover elements that exude an air of metropolitan elegance at the heart of this Cycladic island. Diplomats and writers observe the enduring marks of the 19th century -Syros’ golden era-, when a handful of emigrants built shipyards, designed mansions, founded schools, introduced Shakespeare plays in newly founded theaters and foreign newspapers in English-style Clubs. In the citadel of Naxos island, a 19th-century French diplomat unlocks doors whose keys once belonged to Knights and Dukes; he takes us inside houses with Florentine furniture and coats of arms carved above the doors, still visible today.
The Greek light
As the day neared its end and I wrote this closing note, a cascade of images overwhelmed my mind: the cold touch of a patio under my feet as I was gazing upon a faint dawn; the tang of salt on my shoulders; a furious wave crushing against the rocks; a sea painted orange by a flaming sunset… I closed my eyes inhaling the scent of lavender-soaked sheets drying on laundry ropes; I heard the chatter of women from opposite windows and troubadours singing beneath an amber moon; I envisioned decadent knights polishing their signet rings; I imagined pirates, missionaries and merchants. Flipping through pages of histories, anecdotes and travel notes spanning centuries, I pondered: amidst this ancient Greek patchwork woven with diverse influences, architectures and cultures accross islands, is there a timeless, unifying element? It dawned on me that only the Greek light could bridge these gaps.
The fierce, blinding, unmistakable light of the Greek sun. “The naked eyeball of God” as English writer Lawrence Durrell used to call it. With its intensity, the Greek light has the power to dispel malevolent spirits. Truthful and straightforward, it transforms into a mirror, revealing a person to the essence of his existence.
How many times have I found inspiration to make life-altering decisions under the enchantment of this light? How often have its radiant rays dissolved my uncertainties? The warmth enveloping the body in this moment invites us to set fear aside and be truthful with ourselves. In this fleeting moment of clarity, one can discern the broader picture and reconsider values, priorities, friends, and foes. An illumination, as Henry Miller put it, that the Greek light extends to those willing to listen.
Blinding illumination
“Everything here speaks now, as it did centuries ago, of illumination, of blinding, joyous illumination. Light acquires a transcendental quality: it is not the light of the Mediterranean alone, it is something more, something unfathomable, something holy. Here the light penetrates directly to the soul, opens the doors and windows of the heart, makes one naked, exposed, isolated in a metaphysical bliss which makes everything clear without being known. No analysis can go on in this light: here the neurotic is either instantly healed or goes mad.”
Henry Miller,
The Colossus of Maroussi, Colt Press, 1941.
Less is more
The best way to discover the Greek islands is to take things slow: resist the urge to cram too many islands into a single trip or overplan your days. Greece’s brilliant sun, rhythmic waves, and invigorating winds work wonders when you decelerate, allowing yourself to be captivated by nature’s gracious offerings. Travel light, and if literature appeals to you, I strongly recommend carrying the poetry of Odysseas Elytis—a Nobel Prize-winning poet who encapsulates the essence of Greek summer in divine colors, whispers, and sensations unlike any other.
Greece’s beauty lies in its simplicity, often found in the most unassuming places: in a glass of table wine, in the shelter of a straw hat, in the warmth of a smile.
Beauty might patiently await you in a modest room with a low ceiling and a view of the sea. When everyone else is asleep, you can quietly slip out to the veranda overlooking the blue horizon. The rhythmic hum of cicadas will guide your daydreams, creating a suspended moment where you’ll be poised to commence your journey—a journey that delves into the depths of your soul.
Body of summer
“A long time has passed since the last rain was heard
Above the ants and lizards
Now the sun burns endlessly
The fruit paints its mouth
The pores in the earth open slowly
And beside the water that drips in syllables
A huge plant gazes into the eye of the sun.
Who is he that lies on the shores beyond
Stretched on his back, smoking silver-burnt olive leaves?
Cicadas grow warm in his ears
Ants are at work on his chest
Lizards slide in the grass of his armpits
And over the seaweed of his feet a wave rolls lightly
Sent by the little siren that sang:
‘O body of summer, naked, burnt
Eaten away by oil and salt
Body of rock and shudder of the heart
Great ruffling wind in the osier hair
Breath of basil above the curly pubic mound
Full of stars and pine needles
Body, deep vessel of the day! […]’
Odysseas Elytis,
Sun the First, 1943.
Translated by Edmund Keeley and Philp Sherrand in Odysseus Elytis: Selected Poems, Anvil Press Poetry, 1981.