Living Like Locals on a Greek Island

Back in 2014, when Bruno and I were traveling through Africa in our Toyota Land Cruiser, we met a Greek couple doing the same. I remember Bruno’s surprise at seeing the Greek licence plate on the Suzuki parked nearby in our Nairobi campground – in all the years he’d traveled and all the overlanders he’d met, not once had he run into Greeks.

Though our travel itineraries prevented us from meeting up again, we’ve stayed in touch with Nikos and Georgia. We’ve followed their travels, which led them back to Europe, then onward through North and South America. When they decided to write an e-book about Traveliving (which I helped edit), I even featured them on my blog.

So when we found out we would be traveling to Greece this summer, they were obviously the first to know. Normally they were planning on still beeing in South America, but, as fate would have it, earlier this year they decided to return to Greece because they’d found out they were pregnant!

We were pumped to get a chance to meet up after over five years, and when Nikos and Georgia offered us the use of their family home on the island of Evia, we knew it was an offer we couldn’t turn down.

Evia is one of Greece’s largest islands, but unlike Crete, it is little-known to foreigners. It receives almost no tourism at all, which is strange considering its proximity and accessibility (by bridge) to Athens. As intrepid travelers, Bruno and I always welcome the opportunity to visit a non-touristy destination. And after a very touristy few days in Athens and a ten-day stay in the popular island of Paros, Evia sounded like the perfect end to a well-balanced trip.

Nikos’ family home, in the hamlet of Agios Ioannis (just inland from Aliveri), is about as local as you can get. It’s a large traditional brick home surrounded by olive farms and decorated inside with religious art (made by Nikos’ mother) that gave the living room the air of an Orthodox Church. In the kitchen were jars of olives and jams and unidentified pickled goods, and by the stove, a pitcher of thick, golden olive oil hand-pressed by the Dimitriou family themselves. Outside, plants were potted in old pairs of boots (Bruno left them his holey five-year old sneakers for more planting opportunities!); old farm equipment was showcased, like a museum exhibit, along the exterior walls; and the tables, window frames, and doors were hand-painted with traditional farming scenes. We were definitely set up to do some proper traveliving here.

That’s exactly what we did. Our first morning we took an exploratory walk around the village. At its highest point was its church, fashioned with grey and white bricks, an old brick square at its feet. A few kids rode around on bicycles; nearby, a few elderly men drank thick, strong Greek coffee and stared at us. Actually, everybody stared at us – they definitely knew we weren’t locals (guess they don’t get many foreigners here). The village was tranquil, and, as we wandered down its roads, we picked fresh figs from the trees, and fed raw olives (also picked fresh from the trees) to the goats.

A lot of our time was spent in Nikos’ family home. This is just the reality of traveling with a child and wanting to cater to his needs and sleep schedule. We took our meals outside, surrounded by a few village cats (who received all of Phoenix’ leftovers). We bought our bread from the local bakery up the road. While Phoenix napped, we rested under the merciful shade-giving giant tree in the garden.

I was definitely in need of some serious rest. In Athens, I’d met up with my friend Erin, her partner, and her family, and gone out late two nights in a row. Then, out of our ten nights in Paros, I was out late seven of them, and five of them in a row – a dinner with Alex’s (the bride) family, the bachelorette party, a canape and cocktail rehearsal dinner, the wedding itself, and a hangover barbecue. Add to that bachelorette party planning, wedding prep, and a sunset boat ride – and keep in mind Phoenix was still waking me up every morning by 6:30am – and you can see why resting at the shade of our Evia tree was about all I could muster during those afternoons.

Thanks to our rental car, though, we did find some time to explore a few nearby places. One morning, we drove to a nearby bird reserve that I’d read about on Google maps. The birds were supposedly drawn to a little lake in the middle of the hills of this very arid island. In reality, the lake was almost non-existent, the birds too, and the place was almost inaccessible through the prickly bush past the farmland. At least we ran into a little ruin up on a nearby hill.

A better success was our visit to Kakolimano Beach, about 25km from our house. To drive here, we took small country roads inland up into the hills, and once we reached the top we began to see some pretty dazzling sea-views. The drive was so picturesque that, in itself, it was a wonderful outing. But then we came upon a little cove at the end of a small traditional village. The blue water was surrounded by rugged, rocky hills that called to mind northern Spain, or Scotland. Apart from a few locals, we had the beach to ourselves – no restaurants or rental beach chairs. Just pebbles and the sound of lapping waves, and gorgeously refreshing water. I actually went for a full-on, head-under-the-water swim (which is rare).

Kakolimano would have been reason enough to spend a week in Evia, but our real reason for being here was to see our Greek traveling friends, of course! They’d just had their baby boy a month earlier, and were currently based in Athens, so I actually wasn’t sure if they would indeed make it to Evia for the weekend, as planned. We were very grateful (and impressed) that they did – goodness knows you couldn’t have gotten me out of the house that first month postpartum!

Since we remember the newborn days oh-so-well, we made sure to have lots of wholesome food available to Nikos and Georgia, and to keep our days low-key. Rather than going to visit Aliveri or Eretria or yet another gorgeous beach, we just stayed home. Caught up. Watched baby Fivos sleep (and, let’s face it, cry too). Talked a lot about the challenges and joys of parenthood. And talked just as much about future travel plans.

Because, like us, Nikos and Georgia plan to travel again as a little family. They’re not sure yet how that’s going to look, and they are wisely going to spend the first year in Greece adapting to parenthood (yeah, they’re wiser than us, for sure). But one day soon, they are sure to install a car seat in their van and hit the road again. We are pretty sure Phoenix and Fivos will meet up on the road somewhere and be little baby nomads together. Cute.

On our last day in Greece, we returned to Kakolimano Beach for one last afternoon of Greek sun and sea. Just before heading home, I strolled alone up a dead-end road and took a little dirt path to the edge of a cliff. The view beyond was of deep blue sea and rugged coastline. The sea seemed endless; the wind swept my hair into my face; and a few white houses sparkled in the setting sun. And I thought to myself: this is Greece. This place with its rugged beauty, its endless sea, its feeling of aliveness.

Greece had been on my bucket list for almost fifteen years, and it was an absolute dream come true to finally step foot in this country and see what all the fuss was about. Maybe I didn’t explore as much of it as I’d have liked (having a toddler does limit you, let’s be real), but maybe that’s actually a bonus – because now we have an excuse to come back one day.

Thank you to Alex, for planning your wedding in Greece; thank you to Nikos and Georgia, for opening your family home to us; and thank you Greece for being so darn wonderful!