Postcard from Ermoupolis, Syros

INSPIRATION | CABANA TRAVEL | WORLD OF CABANA

Athens-based writer, Kate Lough, continues her summer travels around Greece, this week settling into local life in the Cycladic capital, Ermoupolis, and soaking up the aristocratic atmosphere of its Vaporia neighbourhood.

BY KATE LOUGH | CABANA TRAVEL | 16 JULY 2025

A concrete platform juts out into a clear turquoise sea like a Hockney swimming pool, undisturbed by the soft waves piggybacking on a northern wind nearby. The azure-painted dome of a lavish Church looms overhead, joined by the grand curve of pastel mansions that tumble down in tiers to the water’s edge. A tanned man sits on a bring-your-own chair, pondering a clue for today’s crossword. A gaggle of yiayiades (Greek grandmothers) stretch hats over their heads for their morning immersion. And a beautiful blonde tourist anxiously waits for someone. A new lover perhaps.

This is Asteria, the locals’ beach in the aristocratic Vaporia neighborhood of Ermoupolis in Syros — and one of the most beautiful daily scenes in Greece. An unassuming slab of concrete at first glance, it is a social hub for those living in and passing through the capital of the Cyclades, where faces and ages shift like clockwork each day of the week. From the sun-wrinkled elders who shout kalimera and ti kaneis and pou eisai to each other first thing, to the packs of olive-skinned teenagers who flirt and dive and bomb, shrieking with unfiltered joy as the sun disappears behind the dome.

I have been to Syros once before, but have been drawn back after reading M. Karagatsis’ The Great Chimera. Unlike his ill-fated French heroine, Marina, who comes to live on the island with her Greek captain husband, I choose to stay in Ermoupolis. I take the upstairs rooms of a kind old lady called Eirini whose family home peers over Asteria’s platform, where I begin, middle and end my days with a swim. My digs are simple rather than grand, but the views from the two balconies are spectacular. A postcard panorama that stretches from the tip of Vaporia to the north and arches around the church of Koimisis tis Theotokou before embracing the handsome waterline all the way to the port. Lying in bed, I can see the Aegean dancing through each of the windows.

Syros is different to its Cycladic neighbours, on which islands I am usually drawn to the beach. Its population teeters over the 20,000 mark and its main city, Ermoupolis, named after Hermes the God of Commerce, is a vivacious hostess in all seasons — as well as exquisitely beautiful. Known for its Neoclassical architecture, roads are paved with marble and grand squares speak of the immense wealth it acquired during the 19th century when it became a maritime powerhouse following the Greek Revolution. It is home to Modern Greece’s first high school, first hospital, first theatre and first shipyard.

During my four days on the island, I do not leave Ermoupoulis. Enjoying, instead, the fruits of this thriving city that has barely courted tourism until recently. I stray off its main artery and eat sardeles and horta with raki in a kafenio by the old shipyard, alone but not lonely like Marina. On Chios Street - known as ‘the stomach of the city’ – where the old market once thronged, I find a grocery store jammed with Cycladic produce; drink a glass of natural white from Chatzakis vineyard in the mountainous north at new wine bar Roga; and sit in for tsipouro and keftedes at Revans.

Chios connects the port to the main square, Plateia Miaoulis, where the imposing Town Hall, built by Ernst Ziller stands. Nearby is the Apollon Theatre, which was designed by the Italian architect Pietro Sampo, with an interior that is an exact replica of Milan’s La Scala — and which you can visit during the day.

This time I do not even venture up to Ano Syros — although one should. Looming above Ermoupolis, it is the island’s medieval settlement, which was built by the Venetians in the 1200s. Topped by the Church of St George, it is still home to Syros’ Catholic population and has an air of mysticism. Its narrow streets trodden without pause for nearly a thousand years. On a clear day, you can make out Naxos, Tinos et al from the church. However, I think it is a place best visited just ahead of sunset.

Before my ferry to Athens, I have one final morning at Asteria. A woman is closed-eyed through her tai chi poses; a group of pappous head out in their flippers and masks; and language school graduates debrief on the week gone by. Everything is just as it should be.