From the 1960s to today nothing has changed: arriving from Piraeus, I find the same atmosphere as in the snapshots from that time. I’m immediately welcomed by the port’s embrace, a port punctuated by the old buildings of captains who would depart from there for the Aegean Sea, where seagulls fly in circles. The only sounds are the lapping of the waves and the chirping of cicadas.
On Hydra one travels slowly, with donkeys transporting baskets full of supplies and provisions up to the Kiafa area and gulets accompanying you to the most remote beaches. Strolling by the shoreline, which winds its way along more than 5 km, one observes the boats painted in lively colours with bright white sails, the sparkling sea, and the marine animals that populate the crystal clear seabed. At sunset, an appointment at Hydronetta’s beach, for an ouzo on the terrace carved into the cliff.
