What are my abiding memories of Sifnos? I remember the uphill straggling Chora with a wide variety of architecture from small village houses to large detached houses. I remember the old village of Kastro. And I remember Vathi, Vathi to which I had walked down a most attractive mule track in 1986, Vathi to which a road was being blasted in 1991. I found the modern resort of Plati Gialos characterless, with its rows of modern buildings. Plati Gialos had no "Greek island" village at its core, and no 'Greek' atmosphere. It is the sort of place that would appeal (when the sun was shining) to the sort of tourist who likes to lie on the beach all day and is not really bothered where that beach is. The beauty of Vathi had been so slender, so fragile. I wonder what has become of Vathi now that it can be reached by road. Is anything of the fragile beauty left? The new roads to Vathi on Sifnos and Angali on Folegandros were the first examples of despoliation by road building that I came across in the Cyclades. On each of my visits to Greece since 1991, I have come across many more examples of age-old mulepaths being bulldozed to make way for roads.
I forget now what made me choose the Hotel Sifnos on my first visit, but a good choice it was, old-fashioned but comfortable and having the appearance of being one of the first hotels on the island. I took Ken there and as he followed me away from the centre on at half past nine at night Ken wondered if I was heading in the right direction. So did I, as I could not remember the hotel being so far away from the centre. I was right; Apollonia and the surrounding villages form a surprisingly long and straggling built up conglomeration. The couple who ran the Hotel Sifnos spoke little or no English but we managed. On my first visit I was having I think breakfast when I was offered some almonds. They were delicious but difficult to open, and one of the props gave me a pair of pliers, very effective. A little while later an old lady (the mother of one of the props) was also having difficulty opening some almonds, so I passed her the pair of pliers. She was very pleasant but I could tell from her expression that she was wondering what I was doing with a pair of pliers at the breakfast table! We regularly went in in the evening for a glass of brandy, and the props took the opportunity of having a glass as well while the bottle was open.
Sifnos is famed for two things, pots and food. Some of the best chefs in Greece are reputed to come from Greece (and some must have stayed at home for we did eat well on Sifnos). Many Siphniote buildings had pot jar shaped chimney pots. I thought I managed to buy a typical Siphniote pot down at Kamares, but later had my doubts when I saw identical pots on sale on Syros, marked "Syros" instead of "Sifnos". Mass production hits the Cyclades. I suppose the pot I saw on Syros could have been made on Sifnos, but I rather suspect that it was the offspring of some mainland factory.
On both visits, very few eating places were open. On the first visit, I ate at the Restaurant Cyprus in the main square. I particularly remember the meatballs in avgolemona sauce. On my next visit, that restaurant was gone and the building was in the middle of conversion to another use. On the second visit, we ate at the Restaurant to Apostoli tou Kotouki, on the main street. I first came across roast pepper salad at this restaurant on Sifnos - a dish that one now sees everywhere. Another speciality was a sort of chickpea cake served with tomato sauce. This was delicious; I was offered a sample on the Sunday and had some at the following meals. I suspect that the chickpea patties are a Sunday speciality as on the following days they were less fresh. Or perhaps they just tasted less good as the novelty was wearing off? I do not usually eat moussaka unless I know it is going to be fresh. I have memories of my first Greek moussaka, eaten somewhere in the Plaka in Athens in 1981. That first moussaka was stone cold and swimming in fat. This huge trayful was new and unstarted and looked delicious. No doubt the ingredients were good quality, but it was barely lukewarm and therefore a disappointment. The other cooked food here was piping hot.
As in all traditional Greek restaurants, the customer was encouraged to walk into the kitchen to see what was on offer. That custom was lost on some German visitors who sat outside for five minutes or so before shuffling off annoyed and hungry. The inside of the restaurant was quiet apart from the hustle and bustle of cooking and waiting, and the chit-chat of customers. Outside, across the road, was a nightclub or similar establishment that was sometimes throbbing with music - I felt sorry for the people living nearby.
The inland villages of Sifnos all have their own atmosphere, unlike Platy Gialos which we found had none!
Kastro was far more interesting with its uniquely styled houses. Some of the streets are at first floor level supported either by one-storey buildings underneath, or on arches thrown across the lower street. The design reminded me a little of the Rows at Chester.
The cats at Kastro looked particularly battered (rereading this, I see that this makes the cats sound like a piece of English fried fish – sorry!). Ken, that inveterate cat lover and adopter of strays, said that he had never seen so many sorry- looking cats in one place and felt like endowing a veterinary-surgery for mauled tomcats. We looked round the small archaeological museum at Kastro but it was difficult to decipher the descriptions in faded Greek typescript. Clear script I could just about have coped with, but the faded script was almost impossible to decipher and reminded me of my old Greek teacher's wobbly handwriting (equally impossible to decipher). We lunched in the garden with a good view at the Kafeneion 'Star', a combination shop / taverna.
Between Apollonia and Kastro, I noticed a few "Tinos" style dovecotes.
Most of the time I was on Sifnos I am sure that the weather was perfect, with a breezeless, cloudless blue sky, etc. But what I remember most is the storm, rain bucketing down, and the paths through Apollonia flowing like streams. On a trip to Faros (not the best of places to visit on a wet day as there is little to do but walk) we met an English chap who had come prepared for the worst the Greek climate could throw at him. He was clad in a Barbour jacket and waders (or was it flippers, he may have been carrying flippers). Just what you think of taking on a Greek holiday. Unfair to Sifnos as it rains elsewhere - but I associate Sifnos with a torrential downpour. Returning from Faros the bus (unusually) drove down to Chrysopigi Monastery. We made the detour as the convent was preparing for the feast of the ascension.
Walking on Sifnos was made somewhat easier by the excellent map of the island on sale locally, prepared by an Englishman, John Birkett Smith. As on other islands, some of the paths were marked with red paint spots. I vividly remember that on my first visit I lingered at a taverna at Vathi, so much so that as I wanted to catch the last bus back (then the bus went from Plati Gialos) I had to run quite some distance cross country. I did not know the route, which was new to me, but I ran from stone to stone, following the red paint spots. Luckily, the spots did lead to Plati Gialos where I arrived just in time to jump on the bus. I was hot and bothered. The passenger in front turned round and said "yassou". It was the woman who had served me in the taverna at Vathi. She looked as cool as the proverbial cucumber and could not have raced across the hills I raced across. She must have come by boat, far more leisurely than my breakneck pace (I did not, but thank you for asking!) She must have come by boat! I had heard rumours of a boat from Vathi to Kamares, but not of a boat from Vathi to Kamares. I would know another time, I thought. Next time there will be a road and I will not need the tip that is stored in a little accessed crevice of my mind.
By comparison with Serifos, Sifnos is very green. On the way down to Vathi, we passed a sign by the road, which we did not understand. Only when we got back to the hotel did we discover that the sign read "Danger - Blasting". A graphic illustration would not have gone amiss, but I am not sure what we could have done if we were caught in a blast.
In 1996, I met a French couple on Kimolos who had been to Sifnos some years previously by yacht, and were waiting in Kimolos harbour to catch the Milos Express up to Sifnos. They remembered the beautiful unspoilt village at Vathi. I tried to break the news to them gently, in my best French, that the Vathi they knew was no more, Vathi was now reached by road. They looked aghast, bereaved; the village of their dreams was destroyed.
[1986 and 1991]
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