The Cycladic island of Sikinos in Greece is about a 20 to 30 minute speed boat ride from Ios (depending on the weather). But it feels a world apart. While Ios, one of my heartlands, is full of energy and bars and people sunning and swaying on one of its many beautiful beaches, the port of Sikinos in early Autumn is quiet.
A bar, café and one hotel remain open on the island. All the houses in the port are shuttered for the season, their mainland visitors having returned to their jobs and schools. After the tourists depart (and most bypass the island altogether) following the exodus of the summer sun, only a couple of hundred locals remain. They go quietly about their business, the 10 or so kids on the island back in school.
Most of the hilly island is covered by terraces which were once used for extensive agriculture.
Only two paved roads traverse the island. The main road leads from the port to the village, which is located high up on the hill. And, unlike other nearby islands including Ios, Sikinos only has two sandy beaches thanks to its hilly terrain that leads steeply into the ocean.
It was early morning when I joined the small tour group for the boat ride across to Sikinos. With small lashings of sea water and the swell minimal, I felt exhilarated in the front of the speed boat with the taste of possibility on the breeze.
I’d never visited Sikinos before but had heard tales of its beauty from my husband and friends. And I was going with a new friend from Odessa, the new wife of an old friend. Her English was stilted, but we communicated well despite my non-existent Russian. Somehow we told each other about our lives and understood each other completely. That day was one of those golden days where you spend time with a person who warms your heart. And we just happened to be doing that while in a beautiful place, drinking wine together, taking photographs, laughing, and learning the history of this special island.
One of my highlights was the visit to the Zoodohos Pigi monastery where Sister Dorothea greeted us with a cool glass of lemon water, a smile as wide as the Aegean, and faith as solid as the stony ground under our feet.
Sister Dorothea lives there by herself and is coordinating the slow restoration of the monastery. Her green eyes radiated peace, and her words were a cool salve to the warmth I felt from having climbed to one of the highest points on the island. It didn’t matter what she was saying—and she wasn’t selling us her faith—she could have talked all day and I would have slumbered happily within the cocoon of her stories. Maybe it was the tales of pirates and nuns who defended their monastery with stones and hot water (while always ensuring they didn’t kill). Maybe it was the story of their escape hatch (a hole under the monastery wall that led straight down a cliff towards the treacherous waters and a small boat perched precariously below). Maybe it was imagining how hard their lives must have been and what they must have given up to live on an island in the middle of nowhere. I wondered what they gained in return. Sisterhood? Faith? Peace? The opportunity to be of service?
And it got me thinking about how I might live my life in a more meaningful way. My soul isn’t calling for the kind of life those nuns lived, thankfully, but what path is it calling for me to walk? Be a kind and generous and compassionate mother, wife, daughter, friend, colleague. Perhaps. Be powerful and confident and brave. Yep. Getting there on that one. Have fun, and share your fun and energy and spirit. Okay, done. Goal gained. Now action.
Bring on more days like the Sikinos visit—heart expanding, eyes opening, arms embracing kind of day.
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