Nobal Glomad

Sitting here writing this article, as I every so often look to the vista of Fira, Santorini (yes my hard life continues), post the perfect week in Sifnos, I already am missing her local life’d appeal (More on all that is Santorini in a future edition). Sifnos is the sleeping feline (pure-bred no less) that decides to politely ignore the yap of the attention seeking Hilton-lapped chihuahua. You won’t find the Mikonos-ites who strut everything waxed, pumped and leather tanned in cobble destroying Blahnics… they’re kept safely away.

The port town of Kamares was home for 6 days. In October it’s like the theme park that was, the pleasant echo of a season passing as day by day restaurants pack up their outdoor abodes, moussakas age slowly in ovens. There’s a sense of relief and tranquility rather than celebration, the spark of ‘busy’ is gone for the year and the alley cats slowly reclaim the streets, shifting their laze with the movements of the sun. There’s no skinny runts here, they all look well fed, relaxed and friendly purrs a plenty on offer for the cat lover.

It’s strolling the port of Kamares with a familiar “ya-sas” and smile from the waiter who served you grilled squid the night before, freshly caught on the family fishing boat and cooked by his refusing to retire father; no check-in passport protocol; occasional goats wandering the backstreets; the next-door bakery sans chocolate eclairs – just sensual wafts of traditional almond, fennel, honey and cinnamon sweeteries; a small protected bay with polite beach included, minus the rows of umbrellas… a delightfully lazy mix that makes exploring the rest of Sifnos all the more challenging. Give it a few days though then jump on a Vespa… there’s plenty more to explore.

With 42 orthodox prayer pit-stops squeezed into a 200m radius, the seaside Kastro (castle in Greek) on the west coast, with its winding labyrinth of white-washed pathways and perfectly domed cliff-side location is a first impression charmer. On approach The Venetian fortress is framed by the turquoise plunge-approved Mediterranian, with Ios glistening in the high-apertured distance.

I find Panagiotis Fanariotis madly drilling and nailing in his work-in-progress studio. The continued aesthetic polish of his isolated ledge-perched jewellery and pottery art workshop ‘Maximos’ (his appellation) is a charming experience. You’ll find yourself quickly involved in a narrative of the evolution and history of his space, opened in 1998 with a floorplan of just 9m2 and a holiday rented room next door which last year was converted into showroom space, his quirky ceramic and perspex display units filled with silver, gold and precious stones lining the white-washed walls.

Maximos is a self-taught artist. Through years of trial and stuff-up, finger burns and wasted material he now, out the other side and a master jeweller, loves being free from the constraints of tradition. His designs are inspired by freehand sketches. From these mind-scapes he forms prototypes which are then finally named. Like most Kastro dwellers he heads to the mainland for the lonely winter months, with only 2 to 3 extraverts, or more appropriately termed hermits remaining on the ‘exposed to seaside’ for an unforgiving, wind howling off-season.

Thanks to the generous last will and testament of a wealthy born-here Sifnonian (my word), the Kastro is now flawlessly stone pathed, well-lit and Yaiya accessible. Clamber down the 100 or so steps to the outcropped ‘I want to say I do here’ church on the most southern point of the island with perfect ocean-matched blue dome and bell towers. Surely the directors of nausea-inducing Mama Mia would have location scouted this spot (sidenote: It is a crime against our eyes and ears that Pierce Brosnan was ever given the go ahead to sing).

Walkers will love Sifnos. The zip-off trouser contingent, bum bags and all will no doubt be clambering vertically to win, but fashion it appropriately up and set foot from Kamaras or the main town centre of Apollonia well before sunset for the quad-slamming 490m paved ascent to one of the more spectacular mountain peaked churches on the island. The clouds paint the ocean. Huge smudges of tonal azure hues fill the Sistine Chapel worthy vista. Hop step it after sundown as the towns below sparkle in their evening attire. Head to Ouzerie Kamari for ‘ouzo pikelia’ then tidy it up for an esplanade promenade.

Heading to the north of the island provides the most breathtaking views for scenic-junkies. Valleys of endless evolving dry walls that remind me of the verdant green terraced rice paddies of Ubud and Sideman, Bali. The road winds the contours of hill-scapes filled with sage-tinted olive trees, oleanders, juniper bushes, jersey-patched mountain goats and white-bleached churches. At the farthest point lies Herronissos, a small fishing village and of course a lonely church a few hundred metres further up the craggy unpaved road. It’s almost too retouched, too impeccably perfect. With a small sandy beach and scattered wooden boats bobbing in the wind-protected bay you’ll find yourself drawn to those scened, garage sale rejected plates to adorn your mantlepiece. Pick one of the two seafood restaurants and ask to see the catch of the day, then dive into freshly grilled with lemon wedges, greek salad, crusty bread and local vino… heaven on a plate.

Put the pin on this Cyclades solitaire but keep the cards close to your chest… throw in a few main-drag Island days either side and you’ll have a week or two of perfectly balanced Southern Med escape.