Naxos: High in the Hills

Given its size, Naxos provides many enjoyable day trips into its plentiful hills. Passing up on the beach in favor of a hilltop morning, I headed off for Apiranthos. The town, a taste of old Naxian times, is filled with ancestors of Cretian refugees speaking a unique dialect among the 400-year old Venetian ruins and labyrinthine streets. The town itself did not strike me as particularly memorable — spoken like a truly jaded traveler — but the surrounding area, filled with olive groves and shaded trails, made the trip more than worthwhile.

Naxos enjoys more fertile lands than its Cycladic bretheren, the back country essentially one giant olive grove. The stepped paths weave up and down the mountains, olive leaves framing their journey. After munching on fresh mulberries, I followed one of these paths for a while, stopping to enjoy the musky scents along the way. But wait. Something was off, and I immediately pinpointed the problem: Flies. Everywhere. The buzzing drone was worse than any I’d witnesses. They barely bothered me (thank, God), but their abundance perplexed me. A few steps later, the lightbulb illuminated: Donkeys. The traditional Greek mode of transportation, for loads both human and material, is donkeys, and they are still very much in use in the countryside. While my nose couldn’t pick up on it, the flies congregated for a great feast of donkey manure.

Refreshed from the hike and waiting for the bus, the oppressive slapped me upside the head. Santorini never suffered from this heat while I was there, and every drop of water I guzzled was immediately sweat out. I spent the afternoon in my hotel room hiding from Apollo and his hot henchmen.

The island’s fever started to break around 7PM, and I set out to see my last Greek island sunset at St. George beach, the closest to town. Given the port’s festive atmosphere, I expected beachfront activity akin to Perissa, pulsating with music, conversation and clinking glasses. However, I was pleasantly greeted by sands so white and soft it was like walking on confectioner’s sugar and relatively few beachgoers or establishments. Apollo must have felt badly for ruining my afternoon, because he unleashed the most spectacular sunset on which my own eyes have yet feasted. Dappled with small clouds, white rays thrust out and upward from the fiery circular sun. Blue fades to purple, to yellow, to red. Suddenly, the waves surged. Most likely the result of an unseen passing boat, I cannot help but think the sun’s ocean dunk produced this ripple effect.

And there it went. Day drifted into night. I am so blessed.

[08.06.19] Naxos (Thursday)

Sayonara, Santorini & Naxos Night

Up with the sun, I wound through the worn, marbled paths of Oia and made my way to the port of Athinios. After fueling up on a frappe, I sat on a six hour ferry to Naxos, furiously bringing this blog up to date. It’s amazing what some idol time and crack caffeine can do for creativity and motivation.

Known for its lush olive groves, hills as undulating as a dragon’s back and a unique alcohol called citron, Naxos, the largest of the Cyclades island group, suffers less tourist bloat than its little sister Paros but still offers a fun nightlife, sparkling beaches and day trips back in time to its older villages. George, proprietors of Windmills Studios and my inn keeper for the next few nights, picked me up at the dock and gave a great introductory tour of the town on our way to the hotel. After showing me to my room, he returned bearing a map and a bottle of wine on the house. Talk about service!

With only a few days in Naxos, I hit the town nearly immediately, heading for the port rather than the beach given my reddened skin. Most places seemed empty and life took a turn for the more relaxing compared to Santorini. Prices were lower; hawkers less pushy. Restaurants spills onto the sidewalks of the port, octopuses drying like wet laundry on lines out front. Delicately constructed pastries and candies filled storefronts, and I nearly swept a large portion of free Turkish delights into my purse when no one was looking. Other shops beckoned with that tantalizing stink of good cheese or offered free tastes of citron, distilled in the hinterlands from the leaves of the rare citron tree. Few people strolled the waterfront and I wandered very much alone into the Kastro, the serpentine Byzantine quarter of Naxos Town. Gladly getting lost in the winding ways, I stumbled across a large Catholic Church, a few museums and countless elderly Greek women out for their afternoon gossip session.

Wandering alone, I became keenly aware that while I enjoy making memories with friends new and old, I also enjoy getting lost in my own head while doing likewise in my environment. I found humor everywhere; my trip suddenly became funnier. I ran into a club named, no joke, “Ghetto: A luxury dance club” And, no, it wasn’t a strip joint. I cracked myself up thinking of how much fun I would have going to that place and commenting all night, “Dude, this club is SO ghetto.”

Thinking Naxos a sleepy island, I went home for a rest before going out for the evening. My key gave me trouble, and a stout yet small older Greek woman, sitting outside as all older Greek women do in the afternoon, came to my rescue. She said, “George,” pointing to the reception desk. “Mama George,” pointing to her heart. I immediately fell in love with Mama George and spent a while chatting with her about New York and Naxos, promising a repeat visit tomorrow.

I arrived back at the waterfront right after sunset and sauntered up to the unfinished Temple of Apollo, started in 522BC by the tyrant Lygdamis, but left unfinished. Next up, was the Venetian House, a small museum that each night hosts sunset concerts and dance performances of traditional music. Thinking the cover was only a few Euros, I was surprised to find the cheapest seats were 18. Ina stroke of backpacker brilliance, I bought myself a super cheap beer at a supermarket and sat just around the corner from the outdoor venue, enjoying the entire concert under the moonlight for a fraction of the price.

By the time I had bounded down to the port again, people — both tourists and locals — filled nearly every available seat, the buzz of nightlife humming excitedly thanks to the Greece-Portugal Euro Cup game. I went home thinking I would come out once Greece won and the partying commenced. Unfortunately, a few goals later, the team’s dreams were dashed and the energy slurped out of the town.

New Album 6/18/08 11:09 PM