Folegandros
Folegandros did not receive electricity until the mid 1970s. It currently has one official taxi running. The public mini bus (runs about once an hour) is also the school bus. The wind is a constant companion and daily topic. Like everything and everywhere it too has been discovered and put in the guidebooks. But here in mid-September the vibe is mellow, unhurried, languid. No crowds, no queues, no photographers chasing after bimbos in “flying dresses”(look it up, it’s a thing).
I am staying in Karavostasis, the sleepy port village. Three to four times per day a ferry arrives and is gone within 15 minutes. At this time of the year the connection to Santorini is once a day (45 minutes on huge high speed vessel). The port water is crystal clear, the beach here loaded with gray smooth rocks.
The island is barren, dry, dusty, with sharp cliffs and a few difficult to access beaches. Small chapels are scattered throughout, some seemingly impossible to get to.
On Greek islands “Chora” is the main town, usually located high on the island or tucked away for protection. Here, a bus labors slowly up the 3 km mountain-goated vast nothingness landscape from the port to the Chora of Folegandros to arrive in what can only be labeled as picture-book Greece.
A village with squares and trees, chapels, blue and white on bright pink bougainvillea. Meandering paths, men sitting in front of a café, laundry flapping in the wind, boutiques, restaurants under tree canopies, multi-colored painted wooden chairs, the scent of roasted meat, the hissing sound of Freddo espressos being made. If it wouldn’t be for the many food options, I’d call it authentic. It’s quiet despite people moving about, the tourists are neither designer nerds nor Hippie backpackers. Hikers come here, sensible-shoed Brits, respectful of the beauty surrounding us. Some French accents and yes they are better dressed than anybody else. In the evening women in casual linen dresses with freshly washed hair and men in casual linen shirts unbuttoned just so mill about the place seeking drinks and Greek fare. There is peacefulness here. I am realizing this is partially due to the absence of families with small children. Just noting.
Explorations without a rental car or ATV (all terrain vehicle) are done old school. Printed bus schedules are outdated, one needs to check the dry erase board on the stops for this week’s schedule. Connections are not timed. Buses are late. Patience is king.
I made it to a beach (because I could) and expected to turn around with the next possible option but stayed the whole precious afternoon of my one full day because it was stunningly beautiful, this gem of a cove tucked between steep mountain sides facing west. The water was deliciously refreshing and the hillside taverna offered front row seating and fried Aubergine.
This is only a 48-hour two-nighter because I have other fish to fry but I could see myself staying here for a week, settling into a rhythm, living the simple life.
Folegandros Port (Karavostasis)
