Beyond The Beach

The Greek island of Syros lacks the white-sand wonders of its more popular neighbour, Mykonos. But for a certain kind of in-the-know traveller, that’s precisely its appeal.

- Eleni N. Gage

AS MY HUSBAND, Emilio, and I lay on the deck of our Airbnb, I realised I’d run out of time to shower before the symphony. Eyeing the ladder that descended into the Aegean, I told Emilio that I would just jump into the ocean instead.

“Any time you can say that, it’s a good day,” he replied.

Every summer, after visiting my relatives in northern Greece, my husband and our two young children—Amalia, 6, and Nico, 3—set out to discover someplace in the country new to us. We’d been on the Cycladic island of Syros for only half an hour, but we could already tell we’d made a good choice. On other islands, such as Syros’s neighbour, Mykonos, we’d debated whether to stay in town or on the beach. Here, we were in the heart of Ermoúpolis, the Cyclades’ capital—an Italianate dream of palazzos, theatres, and cafés that is home to half the population of Syros—but the sea was steps from our front door.

While Syros is on the same ferry line as Mykonos, it sees a fraction of that island’s foreign pilgrims, perhaps because it was long viewed as a commercial and industrial hub with massive shipbuilding operations. With fewer spectacular beaches than some of the Cyclades, Syros doesn’t fit the lazy-whitewashed-village-a-top-a-sandy-shore vision most Americans have of the islands. The visitors who do come—the majority are from France and Scandinavia—are drawn by the festivals and thriving art scene, the more than 1,300 Neoclassical buildings, and the incredible cuisine.