Paros – Antiparos in the light of November

Originally published in Greek on 09 Nov 2024 – you can find the original version here.
This is the English translation (14/8/2025), adapted for an international audience.

omething I love to say is: “There’s nowhere like the Cyclades islands.”
And every time, I’d quietly add: “…except Paros island.”
And yet, there I was.
In Paros, the island I had said I’d never return to, and it was early November.

But this time, I saw Paros in a different light.
Different from what I had in mind or from the summer crowds you might know.
Paros and its little neighboring island, Antiparos, all to myself.

Mykonos always made me smile, Serifos gave me peace, but Paros was like a dark shadow to me. Three times Ι’ve visited this island – three times I left hurt.
You might wonder: “Is that the only time you’ve been hurt in your life and you’re holding such a grudge?”
No, but by avoiding Paros for many years, I built an invisible dry-stone wall around the island.
Info: A dry-stone wall (“xerolithia”) is one of those little stone walls you see all over the Greek islands.

Once, a local islander told me, “Oh, don’t you know? People split up on Paros.”
That was when I threw some cement on top of that invisible wall and sealed it tight.

Then a friend moved there for a few months and invited me to visit.
I started thinking: Maybe after 25 years, it’s time to meet Paros face to face.
They say if you look fear in the eye, it gets scared and runs away.

The invitation came at a time when I wanted to experience again the calmness that a touristy place regains when autumn arrives.
I had been feeling nostalgic because I lived on an island as a kid for three years, and sometimes I miss that autumn and winter solitude when the visitors have gone.

So, I told myself: “Come on, you can’t keep fearing an island forever.”

And I started my journey.

A Greek island in November

How beautiful the islands are in November!
Left in peace, battered by the wind, and undergoing renovations at full speed for next summer.

You might find them cloudy, with winds so strong you can barely stand, searching for a narrow alley to hide in and a corner to curl up. Or you might find them gleaming in full sunlight that feels like summer, shining just for you and a few others.

The weather hasn’t had time to wear them down yet, since most shops closed just a few days ago. Only the locals and construction workers remain on the island, getting through better or worse, days and nights of winter.

At this time of year, everything feels authentic: the white houses, the colorful windows, the bougainvillea leaves swirling as you walk, the church bell. You notice them as if you’ve never seen them before.

You have the space to admire, to wander, to catch details that are otherwise impossible to notice under the summer blaze and crowds.

How beautiful Cyclades are, as if their simplicity gives you space.

Paros island

What remains of Paros if you take away the crowds, the surfers and the teenagers filling the local buses?
Windmills, little churches, marble, white houses with colorful windows, and all the endless alleys to get lost in.
Paros welcomed me with beautiful weather, even though it was November. I found a warm place and the best homemade cheese pie I’ve ever tasted, baked by my friend’s landlord.
I woke up with the chickens and hung out with the cats in the yard, though I could’ve sworn they were tigers in disguise.

And then, when you find Paros without even a breeze, you head to Antiparos, just in case the wind picks up tomorrow.

Antiparos

You step onto the little ferry, and the deck is all yours. You thank your lucky stars and your friend, for letting you feel summer in November.
Antiparos’s alleys are empty.

You try to imagine the squares full of people, but you don’t even want to. You enjoy it just as they are.
Kids play under arches. Are they permanent residents? Visiting for a while? Who knows?
They do have bikes.

They must be very hospitable in Antiparos, because outside a jewelry shop, I found a bench with the sign: “For the Husband.”

How thoughtful!

At the last open tavern, you’re alone, but soon, two more groups arrive. The tavern owner, seeing the sudden customers, threw on some Greek folk tunes full blast.
But dear friend, whoever is here at this time of year just wants to hear the sea and themselves. Nothing else.
Right across from Antiparos lies the islet of Despotiko.

In ancient times, Despotiko was considered to be Paros’s counterpart to Athens’s sacred island – Delos.

Delos was the base of the ancient “Athenian alliance”, and was considered sacred as it was the birthplace of the twins God Apollo and Goddess Artemis.

On Despotiko lies a temple of Apollo, visible from Antiparos.

Probably, the ancient Parians thought:
“The Athenians have Delos? Well, we’ll have our own sacred island.”

I guess, beyond divine favor, it was also about dominance over the Aegean.

Things likely didn’t go well for Paros, because if they had, googling “Sacred Island” today would bring up Despotiko, not Delos.

I read that no inscriptions have been found at the temple, nor references to the place. Strange, considering that Despotiko’s sanctuary is the largest after Delos.

Some say the Athenians who won, decided to erase it from the face of the earth.

They say history is written by the winners.

Ouzo and meze: checked
Scooter: parked
Boarding back to the empty ferry, heading to Paros, where my journey began.

Lefkes

Lefkes is a mountain village of Paros.

Built amphitheatrically, it was once the island’s capital, shielded from the pirates.

The village stretches up and down the hill, offering alternating views. Beautiful, as everyone says, it blends the mountain air with the distinct Cycladic aura and that’s what gives it its charm.

At this point, a Byzantine path begins. A trail that leads to another village, Prodromos. My energy recharges by walking narrow alleys or gazing the sea and the sand. If yours recharges by hikes, check out the island’s trails.

The village church, Agia Triada (Holy Trinity), stands out from afar.

Its triangular, tiled roof is not typical for Cycladic chapels and at night, when lit up, the two bell towers resemble king chess pieces.
I had never noticed such a bell tower in an Orthodox church before. It reminded me of imposing Gothic domes in medieval churches.
Churches in Paros, make a strong impression. Even from a distance, you can spot unique details without being an expert. Details in color, placement, space, shape, materials, or perspective.
They all have striking marble decorations, after all Parian marble is famous. The bell towers of Agia Triada in Lefkes are made of marble, too.

The Parian marble

The beauty and fame of Parian marble flashed in my mind when I saw a pure white Frankish wall in Paroikia village, glowing in the night.
Such walls were often built by each conqueror using materials left by the previous one. The ancient Greeks and Romans had left behind many marble columns.

Nike of Samothrace and Venus of Milo in the Lοuvre, the Hermes of Praxiteles in the museum of ancient Olympia, the Ηarpist-the most well know Cycladic figure in the National Archaiological Museum of Athens, and many other iconic sculptures are all made of Parian marble.

Parian marble is known for its whiteness, clarity, and translucency. Its qualities are measured by how deep in the stone are preserved. Parian marble holds them deeper than others, even the Naxian marble which is also famous, and that’s why it shines whiter and brighter.

Suddenly, I started noticing marble everywhere. In gates, tiles, decorations.

My friend pointed out that doors often had small marble ornaments, one on each upper corner, giving a curved flow to the doorway and adding charm.
I don’t know if this is unique to Paros, but from now on, I’ll watch doors more closely on every Cycladic island and I’ll keep you updated.

Churches of Paros

The interior openings of the famous Ekatontapyliani church, meaning “Hundred gates” are made of marble too.

Located in Parikia village, it’s dedicated to the Dormition of the Virgin Mary.
Although I don’t know much about ecclesiastical architecture, I was captivated by this church. What truly impressed me were the marble-framed passages, standing alongside an imposing yet utterly simple stone dome. You can find beautiful photos that capture this on visitGreece.gr, the official tourist guide of Greece.

Speaking of churches, Agia Triada in Naoussa village is remarkable too.

From afar, the bold colors catch your eye, outlining its design. It stands out both from the sea and as you wander through the narrow streets. As you approach it feels like it’s placed on a pedestal, waiting for you. Αt dusk, it appears almost dreamlike against a dense pink background that contrasts beautifully with its white walls.
Like most Greek islands, Paros is full of churches and chapels. Turn a corner in a narrow street, and first you see a door, only to realize it’s another small chapel. However, what I had never noticed before was how chapels look at night. In Paros, I discovered that some remain open after dark.

Naoussa

Naoussa village used to be a pirate’s harbor.
On August 23, 1537, Hayreddin Barbarossa and his pirates raided the area, but the people of Paros fought back heroically. Every year around that date, they reenact the event. Some locals dress as pirates, while others defend the island. It’s called the “Pirates’ Festival.”

Barbarossa, which means “red beard” in Italian, was the terror of the Aegean. I’ve heard stories about him on many islands.
Side note: I think every island in Greece must have at least one bar or café named SunSet, Remezzo, or Barbarossa.

Naoussa was charming as always. The coffee seemed a bit pricey, but when you see the island in its simplicity, you forget it’s actually a cosmopolitan spot.

Parikia, the port of Paros

Outside Parikia’s bay lie several rocky islets. Two of them almost right on the shipping route connecting Athens to Paros. They’re beautiful, like little Symplegades, but also dangerous.

They’re called “Portes,” which means doors in Greek. These are the rocks that the Express Samina ferry struck (a Greek maritime tragedy).

Nearby, stands a rock with a small chapel dedicated to Agios Spyridon. Next to it another rock which I really liked, though I never learned its name. So many rocks around.

A little uphill from the seaside road stands the chapel of Agia Anna. Next to it is a lovely gate with a view of the sea — very Instagrammable for a church.

A few large trees offer shade to sit making it a perfect spot to take a rest and watch the ships coming and going. Two modern statues facing the sea honor the hard work of the quarrymen who worked the parian marble.

Parikia time travelled me to once bitter memories, but only the windmill and the palm trees were remained where I remembered them.

We sat by the seaside at a small balcony café. The season and calmness favored great conversations, the kind where, for a moment, you believe and hope you can change something.

Eventually, the talk turns to how life is all about focusing on the now. I look around at “the now”: a gentle breeze, soft sunlight, endless blue sea, cobblestones, and quiet. I laughed out loud, realizing that it was one of those moments when living in the present felt surprisingly easy. It was almost ironic to say that while looking at the sea.

On a November Saturday night, along Parikia’s waterfront, the restaurants are still open this time of year, and fill up with locals and the few travelers. Students stroll back and forth, making you wonder: How many students are there on the island?

In November, you’re no longer a tourist.
In the narrow alleys, some remaining bars are empty but well-set-up, as if they could fill up at any minute. You pick one, you chat, and eventually realize you’re the only one left. You tell the bartender, “We won’t keep you any longer,” and leave.
It’s not even 11 pm yet.

Paros is a big island, the 3rd biggest among the 56 Cycladic islands and islets. And I only had 30 hours.

I barely had time to taste wine at Moraitis Winery, which was once built by the sea so wine could be sent directly to ships through a pipeline.

I barely dipped my foot in the water at Piso Livadi beach and regretted not bringing a swimsuit.

I barely sipped an ouzo by the water in Alykes village, and missed the chance to photograph the most beautiful white marble sink with striking black patterns I’ve ever seen.

I also missed a dry-stone-walling workshop in Lefkes.

Dry stone walling is the technique used to build those little stone walls you see all over rural Greece.
It’s part of UNESCO’s Intangible Cultural Heritage and can be found in other countries too.

In those 30 hours, I experienced as much as I could. I enjoyed the sea breeze and the beautiful sights, which will keep me going through winter.

After all, there’s always a next time… if you’re not holding a grudge against a place anymore.

As for the fear, they say it right.
I looked it straight in the eye, and it left.
And when a fear leaves, no matter how silly it was, it gives you strength.

Since things take the shape we give them, I now say that Paros is the island that brings out what you have and takes away what you don’t need. Whether you know it at the moment or not.