Find Paradise in the place you know best
Depending on the time of day that you read this, I could well be strolling through the narrow streets of the town, heading for a delicious breakfast of yoghurt and honey followed by a superb tomato omelette, a repast taken at a table in the shade of the trees on the elevated terrace of this particular taverna, but still with an uninterrupted view of the sundappled Mediterranean.
It’s always my first port of call on my first morning here in Paleochora, followed by a walk in the sunshine taking me from there, on out past the harbour and right round the headland, on a path that eventually leads back to the sandy-beach end of the town.
If it’s later in the day then you might find me having a quick dip, either off that glorious sandy beach, or off the stony one on the opposite side of the town’s little peninsula. It’s less than a fiveminute walk from one to the other.
Or maybe it’s late afternoon and I have gone with my book around the corner from where I’m staying, to the kafenio beside the sea, to relax and read for an hour or so while sipping a cool drink or indulging in a delicious ice-cream.
Later again and I’ll be in Yanni’s bar on the main street, the tables and chairs all spilled out across the road, like all the tables and chairs of all the bars and cafes on this stretch of street which closes to traffic every evening at 7pm, allowing tourists and locals the satisfaction of knowing that their young children can play freely without danger from cars or motorbikes.
By the time I arrive in Yanni’s I’ll already have dined on the freshest of fish, with salad, or some okra, perhaps, in one of the many res- taurants in the town – in Corali, maybe, or Maria’s, or in my longtime favourite, Dionysos if Giorgos has decided to open it up this summer, that is. Last June it was closed. I first ate in Dionysos more than 30 years ago when Giorgos served at the tables, a young man resplendent in red jeans, while his father Aleko ran the show out front and his mother was a quiet but imposing presence in the kitchen. There were no menus then, so you just arrived, went into the kitchen and had a look at what was on offer on any particular night.
After my son was born, Dionysos remained the taverna of choice and when Nicholas was about three and discovered that he loved, of all things, swordfish, Aleko delighted in his toddler appetite and greeted him joyfully every evening - ‘Here he is - ‘Nicholas, the fisherman’!
There’s such pleasure to be had from returning to a place that you have known for decades. Especially when, apart from the occasional new shop or small hotel, or reand design of an existing restaurant, things are essentially the same as ever. That’s the way it is in this small town called Paleochora.
Yes, of course a few of the cafes and shops have changed hands over the 30 odd years that I have been visiting this idyllic spot in south-west Crete but, remarkably, a great number of them are still run by the same families. Like Yanni’s bar, for instance, where an elderly Yanni now takes it easy (but still turns up every day) while his daughter Joanna son Nikos keep the show on the road. Or the book/toy shop on the road down to the sandy beach that hasn’t changed either since the days when I used to buy Playmobil figures there as a treat for my little son.
And, most importantly for me, Manolis Sfinarolakis, who I first met all those decades ago, is still running the Lissos Hotel (studio rooms, really), no longer with his parents who, sadly, have passed on, but, nowadays, with his French wife Mylene. They live there themselves, in the Lissos, with their young son, Vangelis. At some stage today you’ll find me there, sitting outside my studio, in the midst of the beautiful garden that Manolis and Mylene have created there.
Yes, there’s a lot to be said for exploring the unknown. But there’s also such contentment to be had from the comfort of the familiar. Especially in a place that you have known and loved for more than half your life.