Kalo Taxidi - Anaphi 1996

An extract from my book "Kalo Taxidi"




Anaphi 1996
I had often looked at Anaphi on the map. One day I wanted to go there but it seemed so far from anywhere, not on a main ferry route. When I realised in 1996 that a ferry went twice a week from Naxos to Anaphi I made my mind up instantly. Anaphi it was to be for my next stop.

The Express Santorini arrived at Naxos at 2 p.m. I had bought my ticket through to Anaphi from one of the agents on Naxos seafront, but the departure board only showed the stops as Ios and Santorini. I checked with one of the crew who told me that the ferry was indeed going on to Anaphi.
I had been on ferries that called in at Ios a few times, but had then never landed there. I had been put off by the reputation of the island as full of discos. It is strange how tourism has developed in different ways on different islands.

I went to Santorini on my first trip to Greece in 1981. In October the island had been fairly quiet, but even then I understood that things could get fairly hectic in mid season. As with Mykonos, I had been put off going back to Santorini by the comments I had heard and read about those islands being packed with cruise ship passengers and shops selling gold jewellery.

Heading up the stairs to the top deck of the Santorini Express I noticed the differing types of passengers on deck. As usual most of the Greek passengers were in the inside lounges. On the lower deck many of the seats were piled high with tatty bags and blaring ghetto blasters - I guessed the passengers on that deck were heading for Ios. On the next deck up were smarter looking passengers.

On the top deck there was just one other passenger. We started chatting and when I asked her where she was from, she said "US, but you can tell that". But I couldn't - I'm hopeless at accents. She was on her first trip to Greece and heading for Santorini. A Canadian man, also headed for Santorini, came up to look at the view and before long we were chatting about what we saw. Abandoned terraces, the traces left by the large self sufficient populations living on the islands in the past; boundary walls running for long distances across islands; and the Cycladic figurines found on the islands. On holiday I often find that I keep on meeting the same people in different places at points where our differing itineraries overlap. Sometimes I see the same people on later trips. Other times similar types meet - get on - part, never to meet again. I feel I know more people (or a higher percentage of the people I meet) on some Greek islands than I do at home.

The American and Canadian were both surprised that I was heading to Anaphi and both thought that the ferry only went as far as Santorini. As we came past the spectacular backdrop of the cliffs of Santorini the reassuring announcement came over the ferry's loudspeaker. Passengers for Santorini should disembark as soon as the ship docked as the ship would sail immediately for Anaphi. Most of the passengers got off at Santorini, and only a handful remained for the final leg of the journey to Anaphi. On a last leg you know that all the passengers on board will be fellow visitors on your island and I try to size them up. They looked OK.

It was one of those days that are perfect for sea travel, when the sea was perfectly smooth and the sky sparkling blue. The perfectly smooth sea looked oily calm. To anyone who does not know Greece this expression would suggest a dirty sea. The sea is not dirty - but shiny clean with a shimmer like oil on the surface. "I wish I could go on cruising," the American woman said as we approached Santorini.

The crew seemed somewhat grumpy on this journey. Normally the ferry only went as far as Santorini, but twice a week did the trip to Anaphi and back. I suspected that the crew regarded the time spent on the trip to Anaphi as an infringement of their free time. I tried to go into the lounge. One of the crew was hoovering and said, "outside please." I went up on deck; one of the crew was swilling the deck down with a hosepipe, "downstairs please". I retreated to a deck at the front of the ship were most of the passengers had been chased to.

Santorini grew smaller behind us, Anaphi loomed closer ahead. The tingle of anticipation, the challenge, of having a new island to explore. What would I do when I had visited all of the Cyclades? There are many other groups of islands in Greece to explore but I have and always will have a soft spot for the Cyclades.

My concern on Anaphi was that according to one guide book I had read there was no bus up to the Chora. Another book mentioned a "pint-sized bus". How small? Would we all fit in? The harbour sounded from what I had read (and this proved to be the case) little more than a boat stop. I wanted to stay in the Chora. The Chora was a long uphill walk from the harbour, a gruelling walk with all my holiday possessions on my back. I need not have worried. Behind the little knot of passengers waiting on the harbour I saw a decent sized bus, and not only a bus but also some minibuses. I am ambivalent about transport on Greek islands. I would like to stay on an island without motor vehicles, yet I want to be transported uphill and be able to buy and eat a range of good food when I get there.

I gathered up my bags and went down to the car deck. None of the bustle you find when arriving at a larger island. Few passengers, even fewer vehicles. I was surprised to see a GB registered car down there. I later discovered that an Englishman had rented a bar by the harbour for the season.

An earnest young German man chatted to me as we waited for the ferry to dock. He had been staying on Anaphi but had moved on to Sikinos on Saturday. On Sikinos he had been told that there was no accommodation in Sikinos Chora, so he had stayed in the port, only to discover that there was nowhere to eat in the harbour and he had to go up to the Chora to eat. Cynic that I am, I wondered if he had been told that there were no rooms in the Chora by someone who had rooms to let in the harbour. He had been lonely on Sikinos and three days later here he was back on Anaphi where he had enjoyed himself so much on his first visit. I pondered on how gossip spread amongst travellers can affect an island's reputation. The earnest young German told me that the accommodation on Anaphi was good.

The bus was slightly shorter than a full size bus, with two seats on one side, one on the other - but more than adequate, at least at this time of year. Often I find that an island has a larger bus in reserve for use at busier times of the year.

I had noticed a Greek woman with a young daughter by the harbour. I suspected from the way she was sizing up the new arrivals that she had rooms to let. I was right. Rania, sitting on the seat behind me on the bus, offered me a room. Rania's English was less good than my Greek but we got by. I had had my eye on the "Panorama" pension - as from the map it seemed to be in the best position. The Panorama had a minibus (reminds me of the stream of minibuses heading up hairpin road from Santorini harbour). I was put off - thinking that if the Panorama had a minibus it must be very touristy. Later saw that the Panorama was being extended, noisily extended. Rania's rooms, Paradise Rooms, were the next on my mental list - but I did not know that Rania's rooms were "Paradise Rooms" when I agreed to follow Rania and have a look.

There I was, established in my comfortable room with a view. There were three rooms leading off a terrace with beautiful views over the hills to the sea and mountain top monastery beyond. The terrace and room were paved with a sort of crazy paving (obviously local stone) that I had not come across before. The stones in the room were varnished. The room was furnished with new pine furniture, including a writing table and stool, and even a wardrobe with a door (unusual in Greece when so often there is an open fronted cupboard. The bathroom was luxurious by island standards, and even had a shower tray (often Greek showers drain to a hole in the floor). Even better there was hot water and excellent water pressure. It is a rare Greek set of plumbing that does not have at least one drawback. I soon found out, after a copious shower (I used less water afterwards, honest!) that if I turned the water on too fast a puddle formed on the bedroom floor. Outside there were plastic tables and chairs on the terrace.

There I was, clean and settled in, and itching to see Anaphi and get some dinner. By the time I emerged from my room it was dark, so it was not too easy to orientate myself. I would have to wait until the next day for a proper exploration.

Somewhere in the distance (but I knew it could not be far away) I could hear some music. Where was it coming from? I wondered if the music would stop at siesta time. I later found that the music came from To Steki taverna that was only open in the evenings. It was off the main track. On my first exploration I did not spot To Steki and ate at Alexandro's taverna.

The taverna was on the main street (more of a path than a street) running through the village. I enjoy eating in the restaurant on the main path through Amorgos Chora because of the fun of watching the locals pass by. Sitting outside here I got something of the same atmosphere, and the bonus of a sea view (a night time view of a black sea and a black sky) on the other side. The priest and many locals walked past on their evening rounds. The food was good, a large pork chop with boiled/ baked potatoes and 1/2 litre of krassi. I fondly imagined that this was Anaphi wine and similar wine was served in both tavernas. One day I had a close look at the reddish plastic barrel it came out of and found that it was Santorini wine. This was the best meal I had at Alexandros. For some reason To Steki was far more popular and was always packed. I was the only person eating at Alexandros. Much as I enjoyed this first meal I later found that because of lack of custom he had a very limited menu (one night just string beans) so I, too, was tempted away to eat more often at To Steki. A vicious circle. I had a soft spot for Alexandros as his was the only place open in the Chora for a lunch time drink.

Most Greek islands have lots of cats. Anaphi has lots of dogs. I like dogs after a fashion, but I like to be sure that they are friendly before I let them get too close to me. One guide book had a map of Anaphi Chora showing "Baskerville Alley". On my explorations I tried to find the dead-end alley shown on the map, but at the same time did not want to find myself cornered in an alley by a savage hound. Dogs patrolled up and down the footpath outside the taverna. They all seemed harmless enough, and sometimes curious. There were few cats. In Greece you get used to cats begging at tavernas. Anaphi has canine cats. A white dog with ginger spots seemed to have adopted me. "My" dog sat by my taverna table and stared at me with large reproachful eyes, then gave up and wandered away when I did not throw him any titbits. There were occasional dog squabbles in the street. An elder would tap a walking stick (on the ground, not at the dog) and the dogs dispersed.

The first cat I saw in Anaphi was halfway up a telegraph pole. The culprit who chased him there was a brown dog. When his master approached the dog slunk to the ground, his master tapped him on the shoulder - and the ginger cat jumped down.

Next morning I was woken at about five o'clock by the sound of a dog barking. A normal bark followed by a long drawn out "wo-ooooooooooooooooo", a really drawn out "ooo" sound. Yet a gentle, long drawn out sound, not a howl, not a grating sound.

So that must be Baskerville. That was the only morning I was woken by him, perhaps my subconscious ignored him on future mornings in Anaphi. I heard his distinctive bark on other occasions but never managed to see the mutt whilst he produced the bark (and I wouldn't want to unless Baskerville was tied up). I wondered if Baskerville belonged to a fisherman or farmer. No doubt going with minder to work on terrace or catch fish. I once saw a sturdy flat fronted brown and white dog down in the harbour (looking as if butter would not melt in his mouth) that I suspected might have been Baskerville.

A new day, a new island to explore, but first breakfast. I set off intending to buy some yoghurt, thick creamy Greek yoghurt, but soon discovered that the shops were not geared to tourists, and the locals did not care for yoghurt (or if they did had cleared all supplies from the shop fridges). How used we become to well stocked shops, and how quickly unused to them! There was a small general store and a bakery. There was no sign of any honey on sale. I later saw lots of beehives, perhaps you need to know a beekeeper to buy honey on Anaphi. The only preserves I saw on sale were sesame paste, praline spread with chocolate, and orange marmalade. For future reference I noted the wine that was on sale, just Bon Viveur and Caligula. I stuck to taverna barrel wine.

The bakery sold brown bread as well as white bread. You do not often see brown bread on sale in Greece (though I do see brown bread on sale more often now than I used to). I bought a loaf of brown bread which was very rough textured and looked as if everything that grew in the grain field was thrown into it. It was very good bread, though. I eked out the two "individual" portions of honey I had bought in Amorgos.

Eating breakfast on the terrace outside my room I saw islands floating like meringues above the sea. Without studying a map it was difficult to judge how far away they were. In the morning sunshine the distant land appears blue. Light blue distant sky - dark blue sky above, dark blue sea, and even darker blue land. In the afternoon the sun would be off the terrace and after my walk I would be able to sit in the shade in a delicious breeze. The monastery was perched on a peak and was just visible from behind a mountain. How high up was it? Would I be able to get there?

Anaphi Chora has very much the feel of a small agricultural village. The architecture is distinctive. Most of the houses have large outdoor ovens. Later I found that some of the deserted houses in the countryside had two, sometimes three, ovens. Why all this cooking, I wondered? At first I mistook the barrel vaulted Anaphi houses for churches - I realised just in time as I was about to walk into the grounds of a house thinking that it was a church. As in Santorini the houses are built in this style to help make them more resistant to earthquakes.

The village was quiet and uncommercialised although as on all Greek islands I wondered how different it would be in peak season when there were far more tourists about. At present the handful of tourists seemed not to disturb the routine of island life. I noticed a number of tourist orientated establishments (shops and bars) that were shown on my map but had not yet opened up for the season. I noticed one bar (closed when I arrived but showing signs of being opened up by the time I left) advertising "electronic games" and one or two other places that would give the island a more commercial flavour in peak season. But so few tourists anywhere that I wondered how busy peak season would be.

Even in mid morning it was very hot, the heat of the sun being made more intense when reflected off the white walls of Chora. Many of the women were wearing large straw hats, I had not seen similar hats elsewhere at least not in such quantity and wondered how many of the ways of Anaphi were still unaffected by contact with the outside world.

And so to explore. I had a small scale map of the island. On the wall outside Alexandro's taverna there was a more detailed map, but no copies were on sale. I marked some of the footpaths I was likely to use onto my own map. I wanted to find the site of old Anaphi at Kastelli, and perhaps walk to the monasteries along the coast. I had read that an overnight stay on the beach was recommended if you visited the monasteries such was the distance involved. I did not fancy that so gave the monasteries a miss. This first day I just wanted to get the feel of the island and strolled around paths in the valleys on all sides of the Chora. A pleasant rural island. At first I was puzzled by the odd yellow coloured terrace and then realised that this was a ripe crop of barley. Later on both Anaphi and Kimolos I saw donkeys carrying a thatch of newly harvested barley.

Anaphi Chora is a maze. A small hill towers above the Chora on a gentle hill. I wanted to go up there to watch the sun setting over Santorini. I found my way through the tangle of paths and, after a few false turns, climbed to the hill top. I went close to Baskerville alley but neither saw nor heard the hound. After sunset I walked down and found a number of island women sitting on a wall lower down the hill. They had been watching the sunset too.

That night I went to eat at To Steki, sitting on the outside terrace. The tables along one side were doing duty as a kafeneion, locals came and went clacking their worry beads. At times there was a positive chorus of worry beads.

When I arrived there was a good view of the sea from the terrace but darkness soon fell. Before long it was so dark that I could not see the nameless little island in the distance.

I still do not know the times of the boats back, I assume it is just Saturday and Tuesday at 7 in the evening. In guidebooks I had seen mention of post office boats doing the trip from Santorini to Anaphi on days when the ferries were not running. I did not fancy that crossing in anything other than a full size grown up ferry. Usually there would have been twice as many ferries at that time of year, but one ferry was in the ship casualty ward after her encounter with the now deceased Poseidon Express (she had been the fastest ferry in the area, but was then lying on her side in Paros harbour). I offered a mental prayer for the continued well-being of the Express Santorini. If she too succumbed when would I get away? I visualised news headlines. "Tourists stranded on remote Greek island. No yoghurt. Beer running low."

Friday, the day for decisions. There were just two ferries a week in May from Anaphi to Santorini, on Saturday and Tuesday. Shall I catch the ferry on Saturday or shall I wait until Tuesday? Is it a mistake to go to Kimolos this trip? I was enjoying Anaphi so much that I was afraid that Kimolos might seem an anti-climax. I would hate to move on to another island and then wish I was back at the island that I had just left. That had never happened to me. That is what happened to the Earnest Young German. Did I want to return to Naxos/Amorgos at the end of the holiday, those two old favourites that are always beckoning me to return? If I wanted to go to Naxos/Amorgos and Kimolos, it would be best to leave Anaphi on Saturday. Or if I was not going to Naxos/Amorgos, I could go to Kimolos, and then on to Siphnos or Serifos. Saturday was too early to leave, yet Tuesday seemed too late. By Tuesday I would have exhausted the delights of Anaphi. There comes a stage when however pleasant an island is, I feel that by lingering I am lazing and enjoying, not learning and exploring and enjoying myself. When I ask myself questions like this I also ask myself just what holidays are for.

"When are you leaving?" asked my landlady. I decided to leave on Tuesday. In she bustled, cleaning my room, and giving me a bunch of flowers.

On Saturday the wind howled. The boat was due in around seven in the evening. The arrival of the ferry is a social event. I walked down to the harbour to watch. At that time of the year the bus only met the ferry. The bus was already down there when I arrived. A cluster of people were in the taverna, the ticket seller was open, and the bus was by the harbour. Suddenly the bus pulled away and dashed uphill. Those of us left down on the harbour gathered that the boat was not coming. I walked uphill. Perhaps the boat will come tomorrow.

I was happy waiting until Tuesday, but had visions of a storm setting in on Tuesday, If there was a boat on Sunday I would like to catch it. I started to walk up the mule track to Chora. On the way I caught glimpses of the bus wending up the much longer road. The Earnest Young German was bounding down the mule track towards the harbour. "You try to go? No boat. No, no luggage. You not go. You stay. You find Old Anaphi, yes?" No, I told him wishing that I could make myself understood so well in German, I did not find Old Anaphi. I had been on a couple of very pleasant walks trying to find the site but had not managed to find it.

"Old Anaphi, it is easy to find. You take the path above the beach in the direction of the monastery. You know."
Yes, I knew the path well, an attractive path I had been on a few times.
"You walk along that path, you come to a valley with some wellies and some flowers."
A picture of wellington boots filled with flowers flew across my mind and I suppressed a smile. Then I visualised the wells in the flower filled valley the path went across. Should I correct his English or not? Yes, I knew valley with the wellies, I said.
"You walk past the wellies and you see a church, a church with one olive tree, just one tree. You know?"
No, I didn't know, but I might have passed it.
"You will know the church when you see it, just one church with just one tree. Near the church there is a path. Follow that path and you find Old Anaphi."
I thanked the Earnest Young German for his detailed instructions. The next day I would try to find Old Anaphi. Now I knew just where to look how could I possibly miss it?

On Sunday I set out to find Kastelli. It was still windy. I could see the white horses out at sea. I thought it was unlikely that the ferry would come. I crossed the valley with the flowers and the wellies and before long saw a church and a conspicuous solitary tree. I followed a nearby path, still not too sure where the site of Kastelli lay. By the path I saw another deserted house with a large and small outside oven. Even the smaller oven was huge. The two ovens were attached to each other and together they were bigger than the house. Inside the house was a large fireplace. Nearby was an old church with a carved stone container, a coffin perhaps, outside. I meandered up, over and around stones and rocks and eventually came upon the rambling overgrown ruins of Kastelli.

I met the Earnest Archaeologist on old Anaphi - a young Greek girl, probably in her early 20s. I had previously met the Earnest Archaeologist in the village. She shouted to me from high up on Kastelli. Later she gestured wildly towards me. I trotted over the stones and undergrowth towards her. Knee deep in nettles we shook hands and introduced ourselves! Preserving old fashioned formalities whilst being stung with nettles. I would hardly have been surprised if she had produced a glass of water and saucer of preserved fruit, the traditional Greek welcoming treat, out of her rucksack.

"Have you seen any torses?" I was thinking of wellies. Torses? What were torses?
"Tortoises?" I ventured.
"No, not tortoises, torses. Come and I'll show you."
The Earnest Archaeologist pushed aside a cluster of nettles and revealed the headless busts of two stone statues. Later I realised that it was my English that was lacking and that "torse" is the technical word for these stone figures. I would have said torsos. Later the Earnest Young German asked me if I had seen the torses at Kastelli. If I had not met the Earnest Archaeologist I would not have known what he was talking about! I would have again guessed tortoises!

The Earnest Archaeologist told me that people had come with yachts and stolen some of the torses. A pity. I was pleased to see that some remained, but would have preferred to see them taken away for safekeeping in museums. In the meantime a delight for honest tourists to walk around. I had also read of thefts of Cycladic figures from museums in Greece, so not even items in museums are safe. And be careful what you pick. Picking up (heaving up) a torse is obviously theft. Less obviously so is picking up a bit of pot, or even a pebble if it is on an archaeological site. I have read of visitors to the Acropolis who pocketed a pebble or two being held overnight in a cell before being fined.

Back in the Chora I walked through to the end of the village and looked out over the sea to Santorini. This must be what people did in the olden days, go and look over to Santorini with binoculars and look for a boat. If boat is on its way, flee downhill, and hope you arrive in time. At least I know that the tub leaves Piraeus at 8 a.m. and Naxos at 2 p.m. On second thoughts, storms could mean a re-arranged schedule. The ferry is normally due here at 6.45 p.m. If I had intended catching a ferry that day, I would not have gone to old Anaphi, or at least not gone there and lingered. I could see no sign of a ferry. Would a ferry come today? Probably not. Would a ferry arrive next Tuesday? Probably, weather permitting. There were so few passengers on the boat out I did wonder if the ferry company would decide that it was not worth coming out to Anaphi even if the seas had been calm.

I did not scan the horizon with binoculars - but it would be good artistically to say that I did. Around five I got back to the village and was drinking a beer at the only place open. I caught the words "Santorini Express" and "five" and "this afternoon". It was 5.15. Yes, the boat was coming. The bus had already gone. I would have to walk down. I flew back to my room, packed, paid my landlady, and trotted at high speed down the muletrack. If this was a false alarm I would have to walk back up to Chora. With my bags. If there was no boat there would be no bus. On my way down I saw the bus going down the road. A good sign. Going down the muletrack (a superior sort, concreted and stepless for most of the way. Not scenic, but easier to walk on than the authentic cobbled sort, especially when you are laden down with bags.) Other people with bags in the harbour. I bought a ticket. The boat must be coming. With a ticket in my paw I felt more secure. And there she was. There is no shelter at all at Anaphi harbour, and the ship leant sideways coming into dock. The boat was only fastened to the harbour with one rope. But at least I was on board and on my way.


An extract from my book "Kalo Taxidi"