Naxos

If the criterion is simply vacating then our favorite place was Naxos.

Naxos is a twenty minute flight from Athens to an airport the size of a small bus station. It is a Greek island in the Aegean known more for growing its own food than rowdy nightlife. It has long, sandy beaches and a long waterfront, both lined with outdoor restaurants, cafes and taverns. It has sunny warm weather and bright blue warm seas. Naxos has artisan shops in narrow, winding and steep footpaths in old Greek and Venetian sections of town, and in the mountain villages of its countryside.

We stayed four nights in the four-star Nissaki Beach Hotel where we joined our good friends who had inspired our European odyssey in the first place: Ron and Jane. Both are old hands in Greece. Ron's mother is Greek and he speaks the language fluently, from what I could observe. So we have a great place, a great hotel, great companions, and very friendly and sympathetic local guides.

I could easily show some photos and write "nuf said" and end this post. You would get the idea. But it's too much fun to reminisce, savor, and rub it in.

The island town (the hora) is its harbor, a marina crowded with pleasure boats and fishing boats. Large island-hopping ferries take turns pulling to the end of its large pier to deliver and pick-up vehicles and baggage-toting tourists. At the far end of the waterfront is a rocky promontory with the ancient ruin of a temple that was dedicated to Apollo. Two columns and a cross piece have been stood up to serve as a sort of romantic symbol for the town.

Over the harbor and its old Greek town looms a steep hill. On its slopes is the old Venetian town. On the top is what is left of the Venetian fortress and, somewhat of a rarity in Orthodox Greece, a still functioning Catholic church. Both old towns are labyrinths of streets too narrow and too steep for anything but pedestrians and, in times of yore, probably donkeys.

I saw one man, in his late thirties or early forties, huffing, puffing and perspiring as he walked uphill carrying a shopping bag. "Tourist," I thought to myself, "not used to the climb." The man made a sharp turn, up a few narrow steps, and into his home.

No map, Google with GPS or otherwise, can help a person navigate streets with steps and houses built over them. It is a matter of taking paths that go up to get to the fortress, or down to get to the waterfront.

I love walking, so Naxos Hora is ideal.

The routine was simple. We woke up early and enjoyed a cup of strong java from the "individual coffee maker" in our room — the kind that injects small plastic tubs of coffee with a lever that could serve as a fire alarm pull. We would take a quick sunrise dip in the calm Aegean.

We loaded up plates from the generous buffet that included all manner of Greek main courses and desserts in addition to a broad array of more traditional breakfast items. We carried our plates to the outdoor, beach-side tables where the hostess would bring us glasses of freshly squeezed sweet orange juice. I waked the beach south, and Ron and I walked north by the marina to the causeway leading to temple of Apollo. We admired the older locals who had left their towels and clothes on the rocks and were bathing in the sea wearing white hats and gossiping.

Late morning was sunbathing time by the hotel swimming pool, taking occasional dips in the pool to cool off. There was time to read a guidebook or catch up on the internet or order a drink. Lunch was light — if we hadn't saved a dessert from the breakfast buffet and taken it to our room, the maid did.

Ron checks out the Catholic Community Center

Daily we made plans for an excursion, then executed the plan.

Our first night we dined on the beach, literally. Stretches of outdoor restaurants extend north (the hora waterfront) and south (the beach) from our hotel. On the beach, restaurants, cafes and taverns have tables and chairs set out on the sand. Whether eating at a small beach place or at the considerably more upscale restaurant in our hotel, it's all good, and not just because of the preparatory ouzo.

Ron and I walked up to the old Venetian town to locate the place where we planned to see an outdoor screening of Zorba the Greek. Turns out it was at the Catholic church on top of the hill. Meanwhile, Shari and Jane went shopping. As one indication of how much Shari eased into Greek island life, she bought not one but two bikinis.

The Venetian church has a large hall, the Cultural Center, which has an equally large deck with commanding views of the harbor and nearby islands. The Cultural Center has periodic screenings of movies (Zorba, Casablanca, and Mama Mia) and hosts classical and folk concerts. For the admission fee you get your choices of complimentary wine, ouzo, juice and soft drinks. The screenings take place in the large courtyard in front of the hall. A wall hides the spacious courtyard, hall and deck from the narrow walkways that serve as streets. Stepping from the tight spaces through a narrow wooden door, the hidden generous spaces come as a surprise.

Nemo's and its picturesque "fisherman" restauranteur

Obviously, the Venetians who ruled Naxos and much of coastal Greece for three centuries did not have automobiles or their streets would have been wide and blessed with parking lots.

For our Zorba evening we dined at Nemo's, one of the many restaurant-tavernas that line the waterfront. Ordinarily, I would not chose a local place with an imported name obviously chosen to attract foreigners, but our food was typical Greek, meaning fresh and excellent.  The movie Zorba was even better than we remembered, but I always have a very hard time when the Cretan villagers murder the Irene Pappas character.

Apeiranthos village on Naxos

Ron drove us to a mountain village where we admired the ceramics, snacked on "toasties" (grilled sandwiches), then admired the sunset as we headed back down to Naxos Hora.


Our last night we had dinner at a bouzouki restaurant. Situated in a shaded courtyard a little up the hill from the waterfront, just below a local Orthodox church, it features a duo of bouzouki and guitar players and what struck us as a resident Greek folk dancer. Despite its name, Flamingo, which violates my rule against tourist-named local venues, the restaurant served excellent Greek food. The duo played and sang local songs.

The dancer, a middle aged, balding, lanky framed man, and very charming, was adept at numerous dramatic movements timed to the exotic beats of Greek music. It was this planted dancer who coaxed several women into getting up and line dancing with him. Actually, two women needed little coaxing. I think they were regulars. Others also joined in the circles, Shari and Jane included.

Dinner on the beach

The best part for us, and I suspect others, was when the duo slipped into playing a well known, old and very traditional Turkish song, Mustafa. Shari, joined by a small crowd, got up for the familiar rhythm. Shari slipped into some belly dancing moves that the dance leader admired, and even I got up and shook my booties.

The next morning, we bid farewell to Ron and Jane. Our turboprop puddle jumper returned us to Athens where we picked up our rental Beemer and navigated our way over toll roads to Nafplio. We enjoyed the Peloponnese, its history, old Venetian towns, sunny weather, gentle Aegean, shopping, and food. But in terms of sheer vacating, it's tough to beat Naxos with friends.