Sikinos is an introverted island

Dear Barbara,

Sikinos is very different from Schinoussa. I arrived here just a couple of hours ago, and I can confidently tell you that the vibe is not the same. Sikinos seems to be a much bigger island with a theatrical landscape. The slopes seem almost vertical, and at specific points, you can smell some ancient fear in the air. Nevertheless, the cliffs never lie -and the ones in the Cyclades are not an exception.

To be honest, I was a bit confused by what I saw at first. The port of Sikinos is uninteresting, a small bay with almost no life—odd for an island in Greece. A couple of cars are waiting, some tourists are ready to embark, and that’s pretty much it. Alopronia is the settlement around the port, and it lies more than 4 kilometers away from the Chora.

Unfortunately, some roads are so steep that it’s hard to hike. As a result, Alopronia seems a bit dull: one taverna with slow service, a faceless pizza place, and no options to spend the night. And that’s it. The main beach of Sikinos is there, too: a sandy beach straight at the port that is far from eye-catching.

However, I’m not disappointed at all. Instead, I feel intrigued. Beneath the surface, somewhere between the fear of the cliffs and the quiet life, Sikinos hides a promise that I’m willing to discover. That’s how the small Greek islands usually are: they question both your mindset and perception.

The only man in Sikinos who doesn’t swim

From my room, I can see the whole bay of Alopronia. The acoustics of the place are fantastic: I have breakfast on a lovely veranda, and I can hear the people talking several houses away. I suspect that some voices do come to me straight from the port. Words burst like fireworks and rise in the sky. In a way, those voices inform me about the island’s priorities, about the news of the locals, about the appointments they are planning. I drink orange juice, I smoke a cigarette, and I listen to all those fleeting words. Alopronia is not a settlement; it’s a theatre of whispers.

Later during the day, I cross the street, and I enter the mini-market. There is a polite lady behind the counter. I buy water and some food and then wait for the bus on the other side of the street. An older man, around 70, is sitting outside of the mini-market and talks with everybody. Finally, he pulls a chair and says, “Take a seat; you can wait for the bus here.” I do sit, and I start talking to him. The man is a typical Greek islander: the intense sun dug deep wrinkles in his perpetually tanned face.

He was born in Sikinos and has spent his whole life there. He worked for the Public Power Corporation and narrated a story about a guy from Naxos who was sent to work in Sikinos while he was sent to Naxos. They tried both to find a way to swap places for a long time and actually, they finally did—but he prefers to skip this part of the story.

I ask him which one is his favorite beach for swimming, and he replies, “The Agios Georgios beach.” But, a moment later, he adds: “But so that you know, I don’t go swimming.” I find this strange, and I ask for the reason. “Well, I just don’t like swimming.” I can hardly believe that a man born and living on a Greek island doesn’t like swimming.

“Yes, that’s exactly the case.”

The emerging rocks of Agios Georgios

The old bus is dusty, and on the way to Agios Georgios, I talk to the driver. The landscape is hilly, and every once in a while, I can see the sea. “I don’t remember when was the last time it rained,” the driver says. “It was probably last year, but I can’t really tell.” Everything around us is dry. Bushes, brown soil, and the clear sky. The production of olive oil, wine, and honey decreased dramatically. I wonder how everything looks in the winter. “The winter is tough,” he says, “if you want to cope with it, then you should start having hobbies and constantly meeting with other people.”

I can now see clearly the open sea. It is a beautiful beach, average in size, with both pebbles and sand. About 200 meters from the shore, some rocks emerge from the sea, adding exquisite detail to the landscape. There are not more than 30 people at the beach, and there is some sort of privacy. The municipality of Sikinos planted five umbrellas on the beach, but they are already taken. I occupy a free tamarisk tree, and I shoot some photos.

The sea is warm, probably the warmest I swam this year. The waves are not that strong, but an older man walking next to the sea cannot balance very well. A few moments later, he falls, and everybody runs for help. His wife is next to him and asks: “Marcus, did you get scared?” He is not patient with her. “Yeah, what do you think? Of course, I got scared.” They argue a lot. “No, I don’t need your help,” he says, “if I need your help, I’ll let you know.”

There’s always sun and comedy on the Greek beaches.

The Chora of Sikinos

The biggest part of the Chora, the main settlement of Sikinos, is built inside a castle. I keep on climbing the steps of the Kastro until I run out of breath. It is a beautiful place, and this is the first time I have justified my decision to visit Sikinos. But, compared to other Choras, there is something weird here.

No matter where I walk in the Chora, the place feels uninhabited. I don’t see other people walking, I don’t hear voices like in Alopronia, and I only observe a drone flying during sunset. But even the drone doesn’t seem to belong to anyone. Then, shortly after sunset, I see the houses turning on their lights.

All of a sudden, the place looks lively. I can now see a couple of cafes and restaurants. Don’t expect something big: Sikinos is a small island, and the options are limited. On the other hand, the quality is so much better than expected. Four or five tavernas, an equal number of bars, and nothing more. There is a sense of isolation under the sun.

As I keep on walking, I realize that Sikinos is probably not the most extroverted island. This has nothing to do with the people living there, but it shows a certain attitude. Sikinos is an introverted island, a mysterious place that you have to give it time in order to understand. If you manage to rationalize it, I’m sure that Sikinos will open up. But this takes time, and the truth is that I won’t stay for more than five days here.

The poet’s church in Sikinos and the old monastery

The Chora of Sikinos makes your heart pound: it’s not only the beauty but also the countless stairs. On the very top of the windswept hill lies the Zoodohos Pigi Monastery, and although I’m not religious, I’m willing to visit it. It has been shut for over 200 years, but in the last couple of years, it opened again.

A  path with wide stairs drives to the Zoodochos Pigi Monastery. It starts from the heart of the Chora and passes through narrow streets and several stray cats. I follow the route, which doesn’t seem longer than twenty minutes. It’s not a long way, but one stops now and then to admire the view. It’s all about the sea: abrupt cliffs on a dry landscape, and about 50 meters before the monastery lies a little church, the presence of the Nobelist poet Odysseas Elytis. Even though Elytis never visited Sikinos, he loved the sound of its name. Σίκινος sparked something in the poet’s imagination for sure.

And then I reach the monastery. A white building with the most fantastic view of Sikinos. It’s Sunday, and it’s open to the public for a couple of hours. I enter through the narrow door, and I find myself in the middle of a peaceful yard. There are cats and plants everywhere. Only one nun is living in the monastery. She welcomes me to the monastery, and I start talking to her.

The nun comes from Romania, and she speaks perfect Greek. She used to be in Delphi, but three years ago, she decided to settle down here and take care of the forgotten monastery. She seems to be relatively young, and she wears the typical black covering of the Orthodox nuns. I’m asking her if she has any plans of leaving, but she nods negatively. The monastery occupies her days. Apart from taking care of the place, she also runs a small shop with handmade products. There are soaps, socks, and jams, but no honey. “This is an arid year,” she says, “and there was, unfortunately, no production of honey.”

Behind me, a cat seeking attention. The cat drives me to a narrow path leading to something that resembles a hole in the wall. But it is not. The sign reads in English: “Below is the opening through which the nuns would abseil to the sea to escape invading pirates.” I see the open sea several hundred meters below, and then I look again at the narrow passage. It seems like a matter of life and death, but it goes beyond that: it’s a matter of faith.

The winery above the sun

About two kilometers away from the Chora, the bus stops in front of the Manalis Winery. Sikinos is dry land, and I’m pretty surprised to see a vineyard there. Grapes cover the slope, and the restaurant Strofilia enjoys some breathtaking views of the Aegean Sea. The environment, however, is, for my taste, a bit cold: the service is distant, and the decoration would fit better on an island like Santorini. Moreover, the whole concept of the Manalis winery is, for me, not compatible with Sikinos.

The red wine is good, but of course, I’m here for the view. There is a wide veranda over the sea where you can see the beautiful sunset. The nearby island that occupies part of the picture is Folegandros. Shortly before 8 o’clock, the sky seems to be covered with blood: the sun is red, and the clouds are painted red too. The wind is strong, and it feels like the winery is about to fly.

There are not more than 20 people there, and I imagine that we are embarking on a journey above the sea, even above the sun.

The last night in Sikinos

I sit at the cafe Anemelo at Chora and drink a Negroni. Next to me, I see the island’s priest and the mayor. I don’t know who is more powerful for the locals; it seems that the priest enjoys more respect. I sit and hear their talks, and I realize that there are so many things that I’m not aware of. Even in quiet places, life still has to unfold.

Sikinos is not offering its treasures unstintingly. The visitor should be very patient, courageous, and respectful. This is an island that teaches you how to react and invites you to be part of its community if you want to unlock its secrets. When I arrived at first in Sikinos, I was not impressed; on the contrary, I was slightly disappointed. There was no dynamic here, the vibe was unsound, and I thought I would be bored to death. The truth is, the first night, I even thought of leaving.

But I thought of giving the island a chance. And, to my surprise, Sikinos was generous. The island opened up like a rose. I have no idea if we will visit this island together one day, but I’m sure you’ll fall in love with the hiking routes and the beauty of its Chora. So, I will pack my carry-on suitcase, and I will sleep one last evening in Sikinos, thinking of the beach of Agios Georgios. That eerie rock emerging in the middle of the sea is an image that I will often see in my dreams, I’m sure.

I’ll have breakfast in the morning, and then I’ll head to the port. I’ll say goodbye to the people at the mini-market, a bunch of locals chatting all day long outside of the store. They are there to say good morning and goodnight, like some bizarre guardians of an invisible lighthouse. The road to the port of Alopronia is short. I will see the boat coming, and I will embark on another journey.

By the time you read this letter, I will be already on another island. I will be in my beloved Anafi.

Yours,

George

More about Sikinos: Things to do in Síkinos, That bus in Síkinos & The church of Elytis

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Last Updated on April 12, 2024 by George Pavlopoulos