This is the seventh installment of Edmonds resident Nathaniel Brown’s recent travels to Greece. You can read part 1 here, part 2 here, part 3 here, part 4 here, part 5 here and part 6 here.

Naxos

On Naxos I stayed, as I did last year, at the Naxos Magic Village hotel, a 20-minute taxi ride from the port and main town. After a month and a half of travel what I wanted was quiet and rest. The Village, at this time of year at least – I arrived on opening day 2025 – is perfect for relaxing: nice, simple rooms, gorgeous views, wonderful food, a pool.

My room had a superb view out over the bay to the town of Naxos, which is much better seen from the distance! Friday was a wasted day – a rattling great windstorm which even blew over the sofa out on my balcony – a real din, and they had to move the dinner service off the terrace to a sort of underground stone vault.

Last year, on foot, I failed to find the archaeological museum, and gave up because of the heat. This year I took a taxi to the museum. Or as near as a car can get to what is said to be a very important Greek cultural gem.

“Straight ahead,” said the driver as he deposited me at the end of a narrow alley. “Plates. You will see plates” (signs). And indeed, there were two plates in the roughly quarter-mile hike, one of which you only see on the way down, which is useful if you don’t know where you’ve been. Up. Up steps of heights from a few inches to thigh-high, along tunnels, curved passages, more stairs, a few ramps, no handrails, a last climb and you’re… well, there – in the Old Castle, a sprawling, stone, maze with – yes! – more stairs and still no handrails. And no plates either, “a maze trod indeed through forth-rights and meanders!” I wandered forlornly for half an hour and never did find the museum, though consolation came as I was sitting on a stone abutment in some shade, and a cat introduced himself with a meow, curled up beside me and began to groom himself. He graciously allowed me to scratch his ears, then went his way.

Never did find the museum, if it’s actually there someplace, but it was an adventure, capped with a long, cold drink at a café on the way down (fresh orange juice and a sparkling water – my go-to refreshment on long walks) and a very large, surprisingly awful lunch by the harbor.

Last year my guide took me to see the abandoned archaic Kuoros (free-standing sculptures of nude male youths ) of Melanes at Flerio, dating from the seventh or the first half of the 6th century BC. Naxos abounds in marble, and the custom was to rough out statues at the quarry and then transport them down to the port, about ten kilometers, for transport to their ultimate destination. The oversize Melanes kuoros apparently broke on the way down the mountain, and was simply left where it was where it is closely watched by the resident guard.

Sometimes it seems as if everything on Naxos is made of marble, and the quarries are vast.

But this year I was grateful to take things very easy, to enjoy the sun, not fully hot yet, and go for some walks near the hotel to enjoy the Cycladic magic — the sound of the wind in the grass, the flora, and the wonderful, intoxicating smells of the flowers and herbs that surround one. “The isle is full of noises, Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not.”

Milos

I arrived on the last boat of the day, owing to confusion on my part: but who knew there were two Sea Jet boats leaving 20 minutes apart, for different islands? Add to that a pretty large, noisy crowd waiting to board and a complete lack of loudspeakers or signs, and a frantic port employee shouting incomprehensively over the noise of the crowd and from the back of the waiting area… and I got on the wrong boat. By the time my ticket had been checked and my mistake discovered, the boat had pulled out from the dock. But no problem: this is Greece, things happen, a little time, it all works out, and with a few smiles and a handshake I had a new ticket and was let off on Patros with a six-hour wait for the right boat. It was not at all unpleasant – warm, a kiosk selling drinks, a sandwich place close by, and it’s Greece – no worries and — it all works out. In good time.. And I got to add an island to my tally.

Milos, the quiet island the Greeks go to. Ask a taxi driver or a waiter anywhere in Greece about Milos, and the answer will be, “Ah… Milos. Wonderful… ”

I fell in love with Milos last year, and the Hotel Milos, a lovely little unpretentious family-run hotel just far enough from the main street (note singular noun) and the square to be very quiet – except for the demented and ubiquitous Eurasian collared-doves who sit on a phone wire or a rooftop and incessantly emit a hoo-HA-hoo-hoo several sizes louder than justified by the birds’ actual size. And two cats, who regularly had what we might diplomatically call a “full and frank discussion” in the street below.

The ride to Milos was quite “active”: the many Aegean islands break up the wind and the swells, so that what you get is a sort of jumble of whitecaps coming from several directions at once, and the same with the wind. We had spray all over the windows on the third deck, and a lot of pitch and roll – no wonder in ancient time the ships hugged the coasts, ready to run for cover, and no wonder the many wrecks that dot the floor of the Aegean!

I met a lovely retired couple from Boise when boarding, and the husband very kindly helped me get my suitcase up onto the last-available shelf – heavy now with more than a few bottles of olive oil and honey from Ios and Naxos, and Kitron from Naxos. Kitron is a sweet digestif they make on Naxos from the Kitron (citron, Citrus medica), a yellow-green fruit that tastes a bit like a lime, but is pear-shaped and much larger. The Kitron tree is grown widely on Naxos, and is said to have been imported from the East by Alexander’s soldiers.

One of my main reasons for coming to Milos — aside from the hospitality of the hotel and the delights of the island itself — was to see the extensive excavations at Phylakopi, on the north coast of the island, a Cycladic settlement on a hill overlooking a well-protected natural harbor. “The importance of Phylakopi is in its continuity throughout the Bronze Age (i.e. from mid-3rd millennium BC until the 12th century BC) and because of this, it is the type-site for the investigation of several chronological periods of the Aegean Bronze Age.” (Wikipedia)

At any rate, the Phylakopi website states that “the archaeological site is open every Tuesday, Saturday, and Sunday from 8:30 to 15:30.” But with no notice at the gate or on the website, Phylakopi was most definitely closed, with the gates chained and locked! I’d asked my driver to come back in an hour, so there I sat by the gate – not minding really, because the view was magnificent, the place was quiet except for the wind in the grass, and the wind brought an intoxicating scent of the wild herbs and flowers. Give me a cushion, and I could happily have stayed much longer.

On return to the hotel, a phone call by the owner revealed that Phylakopi is “closed for the year” for want of staffing.  I dug around a bit with Google and found what seemed to be a hint that by calling the Ephorate (Board) of Antiquities, it might just be possible to gain access. But the phone rang and rang and no answer.

Barring a miracle from the Ephorate (the Ephors were a board of five senior magistrates in Sparta, not known for opening any gates for anyone), no entry! But this is Greece: the hotel owner, bless her, called the Ephors, now ensconced in Athens, rather than Sparta, and got the Greek equivalent of “Your call is important to us…”  She then called the Milos Archaeological Museum, where I gathered that the Person In Charge must be an old friend – she said “Ti kanis”  (“How are you?”) rather than the formal “Ti kanite” and…  they agreed to send someone at 9 o’clock the next day to open the gate!

Next — Part 8:  Phylakopi and Piraeus

Nathaniel Brown taught and coached cross-country running and skiing for 16 years before joining the US Biathlon Team as wax technician, switching to the US Cross-Country team in 1989. He was the first American to take over technical services for a foreign team (Slovenia) and worked also for Germany and Sweden. He coached at three Olympics and 14 World Championships, edited Nordic Update for nine years and Cross-Country Skier for two. He has written three books on skiing and training; the latest was The Complete Guide to Cross-Country Ski Preparation (Mountaineers Books) which has gone through two editions and a Russian translation. He owned and operated Nordic UltraTune, an international freelance ski tuning service, until retirement.