BUSINESS AS USUAL!
Yes, Greece is in turmoil, but don’t let that put you off. You’ll be welcomed with open arms
THE place will be all brown and arid, the ATMs will stop working and there’ll probably be riots,’ protests my husband. He has a point. Greece is in turmoil and I’m suggesting taking our children, Laura, seven, and Vincent, four, for a late half-term holiday. But I win — and we are all glad that I do, because, despite the ongoing crisis, your everyday Greek seems far from hysterical. Indeed, there’s an argument to be made that this is a good time to visit because they need all the revenue they can muster.
Yes, you should pack plenty of euros along with tubes of sun cream, but the Greeks themselves are keener than ever to make sure you have a great time. Indeed, we are welcomed with open arms when we arrive on Evia, Greece’s second largest island after Crete.
Classicists know it as Euboea, and the bridge from the mainland to Evia’s capital, Chalkida, spans water in which Aristotle is reputed to have drowned while investigating the unusual tidal patterns in the channel.
Its shores are only an hour’s drive from Athens, but international visitors often overlook it in favour of more touristy islands.
Evia is appreciated mainly by Greeks — and thus falls into the ‘undiscovered’ category in guide books. What we discover, is the holy grail of family holidaying: a small, independent hotel called Thalatta Seaside that delights in entertaining children, while cosseting parents.
Completed in 2009, this lowbuilt, olive-painted building is a masterful piece of minimalism with 50 rooms.
Our family suite, with two terraces, is spacious and spankingly clean. What’s not minimal is the attitude of the staff, who are warm and friendly. One waiter takes to ruffling Vincent’s hair every time he passes.
‘He does it because I’m cute,’ my son says, unabashedly.
Indeed, we fear that the level of attention the children receive is going to be impossible to replicate at home. Laura and Vincent bond with educational experts who have names such as Aphrodite in a shady play area called the Magic Forest. They get immersed in the theme of the week, Native American Indians, making teepees and feathered headdresses.
The reception, restaurant and cocktail bar wrap around two sides of the pool (unheated, but nonetheless almost constantly occupied by Laura) and communal space is a beach club that wouldn’t look out of place in St Tropez.
And because the children are keen to rush off to the movie club in the evening, grown ups can dine out — literally — at the upstairs restaurant, Baxe, open to the sky.
The island’s mountainous north is green, fertile and boasts the third- densest forest in Europe. It’s all to do with an unusually high water table — and you’re more likely to find elderly tractors parked outside locals’ homes than sports cars.
Rich agricultural land means excellent local produce, and it’s good news for subsistence farmers, of which, because of the economic situation, there are an increasing number. The general manager of the hotel despairs at the idea that Greeks are lazy: he works a 14-hour day, as do his friends.
We hire bicycles and pedal along the fourmile beach: while it’s not pearly white sands, the shingle is deserted apart from fishermen throwing their lines into the shallows. After a further fiveminute walk across a headland we discover a valley with a soundtrack of the loudest songbirds known to man. We find a small cove empty enough for skinny dipping and stumble on an island peninsula with a red-roofed, whitewashed chapel of ethereal simplicity.
ST JOHN the Russian’s relics lie in a glass coffin in the mountains at Prokopi, and at night, we drive by hundreds of pilgrims who walk through the cool dark in traffic-reflective gear in order to venerate the saint. Meanwhile, on the west coast, half an hour’s drive, there are the his’n’hers devotionals of St David’s monastery (Rovies), and the Galataki nunnery (Limni).
Drimonas waterfall, Eden’s picnic spot, is a short trip away by car, and we drive an hour across the island for a dip at Edipsos, where thermal springs spill into the sea. With temperatures between 28c and 83c, the sea water is hotter than a bath. This natural phenomenon has been attracting spa enthusiasts for more than 3,000 years, but when we visit, the only occupants are a couple of wallowing Greek yayas (grandmothers) and two Sri Lankan fellows on a break from work at the luxury resort a few metres away.
Who knows what will happen to Greece in the next few weeks or months. For now, it remains a joy to visit on holiday. Certainly, we return completely revived.