Beaches of Serifos
Serifos, I’m told, has 72 beaches. I made it to four of them.
My first was Paralia Livadi (Livadi Beach). I didn’t swim here, but I was sitting on its sand within hours of my arrival, and I walked past it often during my two weeks on the island. It’s literally steps away from the tavernas and bars of Livadi.
My first swim on Serifos was here. I know — it’s not a beach. This is on the southern shores of Serifos, about as far away from Livadi as I got during my two weeks on the island. My home exchange partner took me here late one afternoon, along with two other Canadians who were also visiting her. We parked along the side of the road, then walked through the shrubbery down a rather steep hill to the cliff edge where we sat on the rocks and sunbathed and talked. I suspect it is one of those spots known only to locals and I felt really lucky to be there.
Paralia Agios Sostis (Agios Sostis Beach) is named after the church located beside it. (Agios is Greek for “saint.”) There are actually two beaches here as the headland gives you access to two coves.
The beach on this cove was deserted.
The beach on the other cove was where I spent my afternoons. There are no amenities at Agios Sostis and little shade. But the water is deliciously warm, even at the beginning of October.
My first visit was by car, but when I realized Agios Sostis was walking distance from Livadi, I returned a few days later on foot. I’m told it’s so busy here in the summer, it’s difficult to find a parking spot.
My favourite beach was this one, called Paralia Psili Ammos (Psili Ammos Beach).
The beach, lined with shade-providing tamarisk trees, is much longer than the one at Agios Sostis and the sand is much finer. (Psilli Ammos means “fine sand.”) There are also two tavernas where you can buy a cold beverage or a meal.
Because the cove is shallower than at Agios Sostis, the water was warmer. The bay is rather popular with the touring yachties — at one point, I counted eight sailboats anchored off shore.
Again, my first visit to Psilli Ammos was by car, but for my return visit, I walked overland from my home in the Chora. When I was ready to head home, I walked to Livadi to catch the bus up to the Chora.
I don’t know when or if I’ll get back to Serifos, but I love that I have 68 more beaches to explore.
Livadi
At one end, there’s the port, consisting of a simple concrete jetty. At the other end, there’s the beach.
In between is a waterfront lined with shops, tavernas, and bars.
Much further down, a smattering of pensions and hotels. Beyond the waterfront, a few narrow streets lined with more stores and businesses.
Oh, and a marina. It’s popular with live-aboard sailors cruising the Aegean; they spend their days exploring the bays of Serifos and moor their yachts at the marina overnight just in time to go find some dinner.
And that’s Livadi (lee-VAH-thee). It definitely feels more like a sleepy beach town than the largest town and economic hub of Serifos. I suspect it’s much busier at the height of summer, but I quite liked its pace in late September.
I didn’t come down to Livadi every day, but it was where I came to get my groceries and it has the island’s only ATM. I’d usually plan to have a meal while there, too.
Because there is nothing like eating seafood along a Cycladic waterfront to make you feel like you’re on holiday.
Following My Nose Through the Chora of Serifos
My first full day on Serifos, I walked out my door and followed my nose through the Chora. Did you know the word “labyrinth” comes from the Greek word laburinthos? Apparently Cycladic towns were traditionally built with meandering passageways to thwart the pirates that plied the Aegean back in medieval times.
I can believe it. I never walked the same route twice in my wanderings through the Chora — and I promise you I couldn’t have if I tried.
On this first day, I was looking for the main square I knew was up there somewhere. Signs scribbled on whitewashed walls with arrows that read “top” or “kastro” were helpful — I told myself if I kept walking up, I’d get there eventually.
Turns out kastro is Greek for castle, which was built in 1434 by the Venetians (again, to protect the islanders from pirate raids). Only the ruins remain, but what a view!
I had to backtrack a bit to find the main square I was looking for as it was not quite so high. Called Pano Piatsa, it was much smaller than I was expecting it to be. It’s also the only open public space in the Pano Chora (again, blame those pirates). The yellow building is the town hall and was built in 1908. There are a handful of restaurants and shops, but given the time of year I was there, every time I walked up to Pano Piatsa, another one had shut up for the season.
Further on from Pano Piatsa are three windmills still in pretty good shape.
At one time, there were eight, all built to grind grain into flour.
Why are so many places in Greece named Chora, you may well wonder? It’s because it’s the Greek word for “town.” Typically, the first or biggest settlement on an island is referred to as the Chora.
On Serifos, the Pano Chora (upper town) is the oldest part of the town; I was staying in the Kato Chora (lower town).
Some say the Chora of Serifos is the prettiest in the Cyclades. Who am I to argue?
It felt special, living right in the Chora like I did. But most of the island life took place at Livadi. I was off to explore that next.
From Vancouver to Serifos
When I told people I was going to spend two weeks on a Greek island, their reaction was always, “Nice!” But when I told them I was going to Serifos, their reaction was always, “Where?”
Like most Canadians, they had never heard of the place. Nor had I, until I got a home exchange offer I couldn’t refuse.
Serifos is in the Cyclades, an island group in the Aegean Sea — the part of the Mediterranean that lies between Greece and Turkey.
It’s also a bit of a trek from here to there. First, a long-haul flight from Vancouver to Athens (via Heathrow), then a taxi ride from my Athens hotel to the Port of Piraeus, and, finally, a catamaran fast ferry to Serifos.
The fast ferries that ply the Aegean are nothing like our BC Ferries. Because they are fast ferries, there are no outer decks and my assigned seat was in the bowel of the vessel, nowhere near a window.
The port at Serifos, too, is nothing like the highly automated ferry docks that line the coast of BC. The ferry comes alongside the concrete pier for just a few minutes; there’s no dawdling when offboarding as a foot passenger.
But once I disembarked, it was a short walk to where my home exchange partner was waiting with her car. And not long after that, we were pulled over on the main road that goes between the port of Serifos to the Chora.
We got out of the car, I grabbed my bags, and she pointed up to a white house with green trim.
“See the solar panels on the roof?” she asked. I nodded. She had an appointment to get to, so we said goodbye and I made my way up the donkey path to my new (temporary) home.
It was a typical Cyclades house: small and square, white on the outside, cool on the inside, painted door and shutters.
I was delighted by the welcoming committee.
A couple of hours later, I had decompressed from my journey, unpacked, and was wondering what to do next when my home exchanger messaged me. She was on her way back to Livadi — that was the name of the town by the port. Did I want a ride?
Yes, please.
When she asked where she could drop me, I said I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. She stopped the car in front of a restaurant she liked.
“Go sit at one of the tables by the water,” she said. “They will come to you.”
And so I enjoyed my first meal of many on Serifos, overlooking an idyllic scene and marvelling at how long it had taken me to get here, literally and figuratively.
And relishing the thought that I had two whole weeks to explore the place.
Through My Lens: Sea Squill on Serifos
One advantage of travelling solo, I (re)discovered this past fall, is that nobody gets impatient when you stop to take yet another photo. It took me several tries to get a shot I was happy with of this plant, which I came across one day while wandering the hillsides of Serifos, a Cycladic island in the Aegean Sea. (I’ve since learned that the plant is called a sea squill.)
I have lots more photos to share from my month in the Mediterranean.
Let’s get started.
There and Back Again 