1.
At the entrance to the harbor of Hydra sit the walls of Kavos Castle. It’s not a large structure, but it does have a presence. It’s mostly the castle’s prominent location and the cannon that point outwards from its crenelations, but also the large statue of Greek revolutionary admiral Andreas Miaoulis, that stands in the center of the castle’s main walls. The castle and a few other adjacent buildings are made of light brown brick, which then gives way to red-tiled roofs and whitewashed walls that typify most of Hydra. The white walls and red roofs spill upwards into the surrounding hills and encircle the harbor. At certain times of the day, the sunlight catches the whites and browns and the reds, lending the whole scene a quality that shouldn’t be described as anything less than radiant.
That was how I first saw Hydra, bathed in the light of the approaching evening. I saw it from the ferry on my way to Spetses. There was something in the way those brown brick buildings reflected the sun that caught my eye and took my attention, even through the boat’s salt-stained windows and even though I was in the middle of a conversation with the woman sitting next to me. Her name was Sonia and she was traveling in Greece after doing some film work in a Balkan city that I don’t recall. Sonia got off at Hydra, along with most of the boat’s passengers.
As the boat emptied onto the pier, I walked up to the viewing deck to get a better look at the town and immediately wondered if I shouldn’t be getting off as well. I was already feeling the pull of the place, of its magical harbor, already contemplating abandoning my plans for Spetses and spending an extra night on Hydra. But I was coming back the very next day, and so contented myself with enjoying the view and looking forward to the return.
My first morning in Hydra, I woke up with the harbor, listening from my bed as it came to life with the clangs and scrapes of waiters extending sunshades and dragging chairs and tables into place. That my room opened directly out onto the harbor was a pleasant surprise. The room fit my price point and it looked nice in pictures, especially the balcony, but I wasn’t expecting the prime location. In fact, when I arrived back at Hydra, I walked past the hotel’s entrance several times thinking that it couldn’t be one of the buildings right there fronting the water, and instead must be somewhere up in the hills above. The serendipity of the room was one of those little unsuspecting joys that awaits you on the road.
That morning on the balcony I saw the waiters serving their first customers. I watched a woman in a yellow tank top and blue shorts squat down to unmoor one of the many catamarans in the harbor. I observed the muleteers ready their animals for the days labor. Hydra’s harbor is littered with an assortment of boats; there are catamarans and water taxis, small fishing boats and tenders, even a few large yachts. One thing that Hydra does not have is cars. If your hotel happens to be much further than the front line of the harbor, there are mules and donkeys that can carry your luggage.
My observations of the harbor continued at breakfast, over strapatsada, a dish of eggs cooked with tomatoes and feta cheese. The Mediterranean is littered with versions of egg and tomato dishes, the tomatoes introduced to the region by the Columbian exchange. Some versions, like shakshuka, are made by poaching the eggs in tomato sauce. With strapatsada, the eggs are scrambled and mixed with chopped tomatoes and olive oil, similar to the Turkish version known as menemem. Sitting at the breakfast table, the full magic of Hydra began to hit me. It wasn’t just Hydra itself, but the thought that I could come and experience such a place, that I could buy a plane ticket, catch a ferry and sail into that harbor. It made me think about how many other magical islands there are in Greece, in the Mediterranean, in the world.
2.
Two of Hydra's biggest attractions are of a very mundane variety. There is an old pharmacy that dates back to 1890 and a nondescript house that happens to have belonged to Leonard Cohen. It's a little weird to go and stare at a pharmacy, no matter how old it is. But I managed to get an annoying cut on one of my fingers from trying to negotiate Hydra's rocky coral beaches, which gave me an excuse to visit the pharmacy as a customer and not just a gawker. Leonard Cohen's house, I passed while exploring the streets and lanes that shoot up from lower Hydra.
Hydra has a history of attracting artists. When Cohen came in 1960, he bought the house for $1,500 (about 15,000 in today’s dollars) and fell in with a group that included the Australian writer Charmain Clift, who along with her husband George Johnston, co-wrote several novels set in the Greek isles. Clift also wrote two works of non-fiction documenting their life in Hydra. I imagine that part of the allure of the place is that there’s not all that much to do but admire the beauty and sit with your thoughts.
Though low-key, Hydra is very much a tourist island. And I wondered what the place must have been like before all the tourists discovered it. What had Cohen found here sixty years ago that made him want to stay. As luck would have it, I wandered into a photo exhibit that gave me a hint. It was in the basement of one of Hydra's fine old mansions that has been converted into a museum. In the mid-1950s, American photographer Robert McCabe came to Hydra and recorded scenes of daily life. In those photos, I saw the same magical Hydra, though with fewer tourists and older boats.
3.
There’s not all that much to see in Hydra and not all that much to do, which I include among its charms. There are beaches, a number of them littered around the island. The easiest way to get to them is by the water taxis that leave from the harbor, just to the left of the donkeys. I decided to walk to Plakas Beach, which sits about three kilometers down the shore. The walk took me about an hour, though I stopped often to snap pictures and shoot video. The path down the coast is easily walkable, though there’s not much shade. My walk took me passed a few different beaches and a few tavernas that sat along the way, many of which had an excellent view of the Aegean Sea and its unreal turquoise water. Much of Hydra is barren rock and the contrast between the sea and the mountains is striking in places.
At Plakas, I rented a beach chair and umbrella for twenty-five euros at the Four Seasons beach club. There is an associated hotel, though I don’t think it’s affiliated with the well-known chain. There is a restaurant and a bar, though I didn’t visit either of them. I just sat on my lounger, reading, keeping cool with cold sparkling water, and taking the occasional dip in the sea. Hydras beaches are rocky, so water shoes are recommended. Using my hands to help me along the rocky sea bottom was what made me end up needing the Band-Aids.
After a few hours at the beach, I walked back to Hydra town and freshened up with enough time to make it to one of the cliffside bars just north of town. I had a mojito made with a Greek spirit called Mastika, which is made from the resin of the Mastic tree. The drink was good but sweet. I ordered the next one with less sugar and from my seat looking out over the water, I watched the sunset.
One of the big brick buildings facing the harbor that I first saw from the ferry turned out to be a museum. After watching the sunset, I wandered in and saw an exhibit of colorful paintings. Halfway around the room, I was greeted by the artist, a smiling woman wearing an infant on a carrier. She told me that selling her paintings was partly how she and her family financed a life of sailing around on their boat. You can see her work here. The vibrant palette and whimsical lines of the paintings capture the spirit of Hydra quite well.
I've scratched the surface of the Greek islands, and only barely. But I'm confident in saying that I will return to Hydra. I spent two nights there, meaning only one full day. Not much time at all. But in that one full day, beginning with the harbor coming alive, continuing in a walk to the beach, and ending in an evening spent watching the sun go down, I may have come close to realizing the full potential of Hydra. I say that because maybe the full potential of Hydra is simply that it is a place worth falling in love with.