Hydra Town

The first image you get of Hydra town is from the deck of the hydrofoil, when the boat rounds the headland and the full amphitheatre appears: a semicircular harbour protected by two moles, stone mansions stepped up the hillside, white bell towers rising between the roofs and, almost always, a row of yachts moored against the quay. The impression is theatrical because the town itself is built like a Greek theatre: the water is the stage, the houses are the boxes and the stepped slopes are the tiers. There is no other town in the Aegean where the street plan and the geography blur into each other so completely.

The moment you step onto the white marble quay you understand rule number one: there are no vehicles. The main street along the seafront is a mix of cafés, jewellers, ceramics shops, art galleries and ferry line offices. Donkeys and mules in their colourful harnesses wait beside the moorings to carry suitcases up to the hotels in the upper town. Some tourists take the obligatory selfie and move on; the animals, entirely used to it, do not so much as blink. As you head west along the seafront, the cafés give way to tavernas and bars, and at the end of the quay (beside the old bronze cannons that once defended the harbour) you come to the Spilia swimming platforms, where people throw themselves into the water straight off the rocks. It is one of the most photographed corners on the island, especially at sunset.

The real pleasure of Hydra town, though, is not the harbour front but what lies behind it. Climb any of the lanes running up from the quay and within five minutes you are in another world: complete silence, whitewashed houses with stone detailing, vines spilling over the walls, cats asleep in the sun, grandmothers bringing chairs out into the street to knit. The main church, the Panagia (the cathedral of the Assumption of the Virgin), sits just behind the quay, inside a seventeenth century former monastery. Its white bell tower with marble finials is one of the island’s emblems. We would tell you to get lost without a map: there are so many lanes and they are so irregular that any route will take you to an unexpected little square, a small church, a view down over the harbour.

There are three unmissable spots: the harbour front in its entirety (from Spilia in the east to the boatyards in the west), the Kala Pigadia quarter (one of the oldest, with the eighteenth century communal wells still visible) and the climb up to the cannon bastions that defended the harbour during the war of independence. From the top of the western bastion, next to the Hydroneta café, you get one of the best views for sunset: the sun drops straight behind the Peloponnese and the harbour lights up with the lamps of the yachts and the tavernas. If you want to go deeper into the history, do not miss the Lazaros Koundouriotis Mansion and the Historical Archives Museum, the two compulsory cultural stops.

A note on the usual questions: can you get to Leonard Cohen’s house? No, it is private property and his family keeps the location entirely to itself, although it is documented that it is in the upper town. Is there a decent supermarket for buying water and picnic supplies? Yes, there are two small supermarkets in the lanes behind the Panagia, with more reasonable prices than the shops on the quay. How much does a mule cost from the harbour up to a hotel in the upper town? Between 10 and 15 euros, depending on the distance; the muleteers work to agreed rates and do not haggle. Does it matter if it rains? The town carries on as normal, but the slopes get very slippery. Wear rubber soled shoes always, even in summer: the cobbles, polished by so many years, are treacherous.