Naxos Island
Although the opposite coasts of Paros and Naxos are only six miles ipart, it always seems a long way by sea from Paroikia to the harbour of Naxos. When you get there it is a very different scene. The harbour is as big if not bigger, and the waterfront is wide and deep, but the town is closely concentrated around the steep hill behind it which culminates in a mediaeval castle, the castle which was the headquarters of the central power in the Aegean for over three hun¬dred years and contained the palace of its rulers. As so much of the island’s history depended on the fact, it is worth reiterating how it came about.
After the fall of Constantinople in 1204 to the armies of the Fourth Crusade, backed by Venice, the Byzantine Empire was divided among its conquerors. Most of the Greek islands, including the Kyk-lades, were awarded by treaty to Venice. Venice however preferred to leave their occupation to private citizens of the Republic, and the first man to take advantage of this was Marco Sanudo, a nephew of the Venetian Doge Dandolo, who had successfully diverted the crusaders to attack Constantinople. This enterprising character equipped eight galleys at his own expense and set out for the Aegean to annex as many islands as he could. Here is William Miller’s account of the establishment of the Duchy of Naxos:
Seventeen islands speedily submitted, and at one point alone did Sanudo meet with any real resistance. Naxos has always been the pearl of the Aegean: poets placed there the beautiful myth of Ariadne and Dionysus, Herodotus describes it as ‘excelling the other islands in prosperity’; even today, when so many of the Cyclades are barren rocks, the orange and lemon groves of Naxos entitle it, even more than Zante, to the proud name of ‘flower of the Levant’. This was the island which now opposed the Venetian filibuster, as centuries before it had opposed the Persians. A body of Genoese pirates had occupied the Byzantine castle before Sanudo’s arrival, but that shrewd leader, who knew the value of rashness in an emergency, burnt his galleys, and then bade his companions conquer or die. The castle surrendered after a five weeks’ siege, so that by 1207 Sanudo and his comrades had con¬quered a duchy, which lasted between three and four centuries. His duchy included, besides Naxos, where he fixed his capital, the famous marble island of Paros; Antiparos, with its curious grotto; Kimolos, celebrated for its fuller’s earth; Melos, whose sad for¬tunes had furnished Thucydides with one of the most curious
passages in his history; Amorgos, the home of Semonides; Ios, or Nio, the supposed tomb of Homer; Kythnos, Sikinos and Siphnos; and Syra, destined at a much later date to be the most important of all the Cyclades.*
What a catalogue of islands, with their characters in a nutshell!
The Byzantine castle was at Apalyri, in the central and southern part of the island. The town, harbour, castle and even the Catholic cathedral we see as we arrive were all founded by Marco Sanudo I. The Sanudi remained nominal masters of the Archipelago (although other Italian families occupied and built their castles on many differ¬ent islands) until 1383, when the last and worst of the line was murdered. Francesco Crispo, who had married into the Sanudo fam¬ily, founded a new dynasty which had a closer association with Venice, and a hundred years later, under constant attack by Turkish corsairs which almost depopulated the islands, the people of Naxos invited Venice to take over the Duchy. In 1500 the senate re-estab¬lished the descendants of the Crispi for a time, but in 1536 Giovanni IV surrendered Naxos to a Turkish force of overwhelming strength. From then on the Dukes were merely vassals of the Sultan. In 1564 the last of the Crispi was ousted by his own people, who had come to prefer Turkish rule to a dissipated Italian tyrant, and in 1580 the islands were formally annexed to the Ottoman Empire.
In the upper part of the Chora of Naxos you can see traces of the Dukes and their noble retainers inside the castle walls, of which only two gateways, a tower and a few short lengths remain. You will come across coats of arms on a few house fronts, a range of buildings which remind you of Venice, and the Catholic cathedral has rows of tombstones with the names and titles of the Italian nobility (and pseudo-nobility) who worshipped there. They include two members of the Barozzi family, principally known as lords of Santorin, and the earliest is dated 1619. Outside, this is a typical neo-Byzantine build¬ing, but the inside is simpler and more interesting. The nave and the two side aisles are divided by low, squat pillars, two of them carrying their original capitals. Above the altar is a fifteenth-century ikon of the Madonna, with unusually severe features, but the joy of the place is the seventeenth-century Notre Dame du Rosaire in the southern side chapel, a delicate composition which shows the virgin enclosed in the expanded trunk of a rose tree - the lower branches bare and
thorny, but springing to life in the upper half in an exquisite design of lose buds and peacock feathers.
The cathedral is usually locked, but if you ask persistently round about you should be able to find either the priest in charge or the lady In a nearby street who has a key. The trouble is that the Kastro area is a lifeless place: I found the Museum poorly housed and unhelpfully manned (never open on Tuesdays), and the former French Ursuline Convent appeared deserted and impenetrable.
The town below is far more lively, and thoroughly Greek in char¬acter, with bewildering alleys, sudden corners and baffling culs-de-sac. Even along the harbour front, where it looks as if the foreign tourist has taken over, you will find as many traditional shops as you will supermarkets and trinket stores. You can still see in one corner of a busy restaurant the revolving kokkoretsi, spits twined with sheep and goats’ guts and stuffed with herb-flavoured pork. In a street behind, next to a depressing modern pizzeria, there will be a real Greek butcher’s shop with its round wooden block scored with the marks of the cleaver. You can still buy from the general stores or the wine shops the special Naxian liqueur, kitron, a miraculous distilla¬tion of lemons and sugar.
When evening comes and the sun is setting across the harbour, all traffic is barred and the families of Naxia (the traditional name for the capital) begin their slow volta along the wide front where an hour before heavy trucks were crashing their way to the commercial quays. Later the restaurant tables along the waterside will fill with as many Greeks as tourists. Naxia harbour can be noisy, dusty and even smelly, but it is real and has not yet surrendered to the barbarians.
One quickly recognizable feature of Naxos is the marble doorway of the Temple of Apollo, which stands on the islet of Palatia at the north end of the harbour, framing a blue rectangle of sky between its huge white pillars. Once this was thought to be a temple of Dionysus, connected with the mythical story of Ariadne deserted by Theseus, and the projecting point of the islet is still called Cape Bacchus on the map. In fact this temple was a late fifth-century construction which never got further than the foundations and the doorway we see today. Work stopped when Naxos went to war with Samos and lost, and it was never restarted. The beautiful myth of Dionysus and Ariadne belongs to a more suitable part of the island, a romantic valley far away to the north.
The Kastro of Naxos was a Latin and Catholic creation. The centre of Greek life was the northern quarter known as Bourgos, on the far
side of Cape Bacchus. Here is the nineteenth-century Metropolitan Cathedral, and the older Panagia Chrysopolitissa with an exception¬ally long nave. It is a bright and lively, if chronically untidy place. The coastline beyond rises to a series of rocky cliffs with fine views northward to Delos and Mykonos. The name Grotta applies not only to traces of Mycenaean buildings found submerged beneath the cliffs, but to a new hotel which enjoys this splendid situation.
If you take the road leading from this quarter towards Galini, soon after leaving the town you will see above you on the right the white¬washed walls of the Moni Chrysostomou wedged high up between jagged outcrops of rock. This is an eighteenth-century convent which
11 not normally open to tourists, but if you can persuade someone of Influence in Naxos to write a letter of introduction it is worth . limbing the zig-zag track up to it. You will probably be challenged by ;i loquacious shepherd who acts as scout and guardian, and you may have to wait till the duty nun has finished milking the goats.
The katholikon church is dated 1756, with a barrel-vaulted nave, 11 ii coed but curiously painted to imitate black marble veined with white. The templo in carved wood looks older, probably seventeenth I c ntury, with an ikon of Agios Chrysostomos sheathed in silver. It is .ill very peaceful, with a wonderful view down over Naxia and across to Paros. Into the head come words from that wonderful prayer of St ( hrysostom: ‘and dost promise that when two or three are gathered together in thy name thou wilt grant their requests’. There are (or were) five nuns in residence, and they keep the premises beautifully, I)right with flowers and spotless stone paving.
The long western coast of Naxos offers a choice of some enticing sandy beaches, some reached directly by bus, like that at Agia Anna, others like Kastraki after a short walk from the main road, which ends in the south-facing bay of Pyrgaki. Right at the end is a big holiday hotel complex, but so wide and long is the seashore that there is room for all. Not only that, you can have a true Greek meal with a carafe or can of Naxos wine at a little family restaurant beside the road a mile before the hotel - they are never short of fish.
The heart of the island is the great mountain of Zas (a variant of Zeus) and the glorious valleys which surround it. There is no scenery to equal it in the Aegean north of Crete, and no one can claim to know Naxos without exploring it. Fortunately some of the most splendid prospects and interesting places are accessible from the modern highway, which penetrates high into the central mountains before dropping through a spectacular valley to the northern sea. Cars are easy to hire, but there may be no need for this expense, as during the summer organized coach tours are laid on by one of the travel agencies on the front of the harbour. They follow this route all the way to the seaside village of Apollonas and back.
The road we take leaves the coastal road to Pyrgaki just before the village of Galanado, and soon it passes close to a typical example of a Naxian ‘Venetian’ tower, known as the Pyrgos Mpelonia. You will find these foursquare crenellated buildings all over Naxos, and they were nearly all built during the seventeenth century, well after the Turkish conquest. A mile further on, to the left of the road and below it, is the historic church of Agios Mamas. No one knows how early it
was built, but in the ninth century it was the centre of the Orthodox bishopric. A lovely little building in plain grey stone on the Greek Cross plan, it has the most beautiful situation at the foot of the Potamies valley.
Next on the right come the two villages of Kato and Ano Zangri, the former with another ‘Venetian’ tower, the latter with the monas¬tery church of Agios Elevtherias - and beyond that was found a classical temple to Demeter, said to have been a model for the Parthe¬non. As the road turns north-east you see the sixteenth-century Moni Timiou Stavrou (the convent of the Holy Cross). It looks like just another pyrgos from outside, but it has been an active community teaching centre and school - now maintained by only one or two nuns.
After the village of Vourvouria you can see on a peak away to your left the ruined fortress of Pano Kastro, a genuine Venetian stronghold built by Marco Sanudo II in the mid-thirteenth century; then you come to the small town of Chalkio, or Halki. This contains the very early and very lovely church of the Panagia Protothrono (Our Lady of the Highest Majesty). The oldest part is the sixth-century apse, with unusual arched openings into side chapels and concentric steps rising to a kathedra. The rest of the church is of the eleventh to thirteenth centuries, originally a Greek Cross but later extended westward with a second cupola above the nave. There are a few early frescos, the most remarkable being an extraordinary scene of the forty martyrs of Albania going to their death by immersion in an ice-cold lake, Their pallid flesh seems actually to be shivering at the prospect.
The earliest ikons of Christ and the Panagia, said to have been retrieved from the sea after the ikonoklasts had thrown them out, are covered, all but their faces, in local beaten silver. There is another ‘ Venetian ‘pyrgos which overlooks the church, and away to the north you can see the white scars made by the marble quarry workings on the slopes of Korakia.
The road now enters a fertile basin, planted with ancient olives and ringed by high mountains, before reaching Philoti, a busy small town with a decorative eighteenth-century church. Here begins the most spectacular part of the journey, as the road loops to the south and back again to the north beneath the huge peak of Zas. This is one of the many reputed birthplaces of Zeus, but one feels it would have been a softer nurse than Cretan Ida.
The country becomes more and more spectacular, though still
green and beautiful below the heights. The sea seems a very long way away. Before the next village, Apirathos, you pass the isolated Church of Agios Ioannis Theologos, perched dramatically on a coni¬cal peak to the right. It still has its annual festival in May, when a big procession climbs the many hundred feet of bare rock to the top.
Apirathos is the most beautiful village in Naxos. The clean nar¬row streets are actually paved in marble, and bordered by many old balconied houses of plain un-whitewashed stone, some with marble doorways. There is another ‘Venetian’ tower and a small carefully arranged museum. Apirathos owes its distinguished architecture to the Crispi Dukes, who rebuilt it in the late fourteenth century on an ancient site. More recently it was famous for its music and musicians. The violinist Manolis was known as the best exponent of popular music in all Greece, and an old recording of his has been reissued on cassette; he plays the old music with great verve and flourish.
Further north the scenery changes quickly to a bare and uncom¬promising mountain ridge. The underlying rock is volcanic, and it is the only place in Greece where emery is still mined. You can see the scars on the hillside, and piles of the shiny dark chippings waiting to be transported by lorry, or by the overhead conveyor line which connects with the little harbour of Moutsouna on the east coast. The main export market is Germany, where emery is used as an abrasive in heavy manufacturing, and most recently is being tried out as an anti-skid surface for motorways - which could be a growth industry. The workmen live in the villages of Koronas and Skado, plainer and poorer than any we have passed so far.
At Koronida everything changes again. This is a very pretty village, at the head of a deep and beautiful valley which falls steeply down to the sea at Apollonas. Before the real descent begins you see on your right two churches side by side on a small bluff. One is very early Byzantine in plain stone, tragically allowed to decay until a dull modern one was built in 1965, to which all the ancient ikons were transferred.
Now we are in the real Dionysus country. Vineyards are every¬where, some properly cultivated, others with the vines straggling voluptuously and untended over steep terraces. High in the upper slopes of the valley is the cave - where else could it be? - where the god lived with Ariadne and where she bore him two sons. The tale has many variations, but it begins with Ariadne assisting Theseus first to kill the Minotaur in the labyrinth of Knossos and then to escape with the party of Athenian youths he had rescued by this deed.
On reaching Naxos, Theseus abandoned Ariadne and sailed on to Athens, and her vocal recriminations have been the subject of musi¬cal extravaganzas from Haydn to Richard Strauss.
Dionysus (or Bacchus, God of Wine) now enters the story. While Ariadne slept, a shipload of pirates with Dionysus as their prisoner was nearing Naxos. Ignorant of their prisoner’s divinity they were intending to sell him as a slave. But the god made a vine grow up from the deck, while ivy twined round the rigging, the oars became serpents and he himself was transformed into a lion. The pirates immediately jumped overboard, leaving the ship to Dionysus, re¬stored to his normal graceful form, and to a phantom crew. The ship came on steadily over the water towards Naxos, while the air was filled with the sound of flutes. Stepping ashore on the island, the first person Dionysus saw was the sleeping Ariadne. The starry crown which Dionysus brought her as a wedding gift he later hung in the heavens, where it gleams for all to see - the Corona Borealis. Titian and Tintoretto both painted marvellous evocations of their meeting, with suggestions of a Naxian landscape in the background.
Where they first met can be argued about, but I like to think this lovely vine-wreathed valley was their home. The road clings dizzily to the right hand side, and you can see the ribbon unfolding hundreds of feet below on its way down to the sea. Just before it reaches Apollonas there is a track to the left which in five minutes leads to something extraordinary. Out of an immense solid block of marble has been roughly carved the figure of a bearded giant, lying almost horizontal, ten metres long and weighing about thirty tons. Reversing the attributions of the temple on Cape Bacchus, this Kouros, as the archaeologists call it, was once thought to be Apollo but now is recognized as Dionysus. The carving of it was abandoned when the block of marble was found to be faulty, with seams which let in the weather. This is an archaic work, probably of the seventh century BC, but the slightly raised or forward position of one leg shows an early shift towards a more natural pose for sculptured figures.
Apollonas is a delightful fishing village with a sandy beach spreading round the head of a small bay. As a harbour it is exposed to northerly winds, and as a beauty spot it grows yearly more exposed to the tourist trade. Nevertheless it can still be a good place to stay. The best restaurant is under the trees to the right of the harbour; the more showy ones opposite prove less attractive when you get there.
This journey will not exhaust the attractions of inland Naxos, but there are only a few other short lengths of drivable road, and the
distances are too great for other kinds of travel. If possible, you ought not to forgo an expedition to find another Kouros of Naxos, better finished and more handsome than the one at Apollonas. A reliable car and map are needed, though there are signs pointing the way from the neighbourhood of a group of villages - Melanes, Kourounochori and Miloi - in the mountains east of the town. A new road has been built in that direction, but the final stages may still be rough. The site of the Kouros is marked on the map just east of Miloi; you will find him in a beautiful secret valley tucked in below the crag of Korakia. The final approach (after leaving your car in a safe place) is by a footpath through a glade of cypress, plane, olive and lemon trees. At the end of the path is a little stone hut in a flowery garden, set with tables and chairs where you can refresh yourself with necessary drink and sim¬ple food. The owners of this Garden of Eden are a couple who also own the land around, and they themselves dug out this kouros from a mass of rock and earth in 1945. By Greek law they own him, and he cannot be removed without their consent.
He lies in a quiet comer of the garden, a horizontal figure of Dionysus, complete but for the final process of raising him to stand upright. The head and body are finely modelled, the left leg ad¬vanced, the right leg sadly broken below the knee. The hostess treats him as a favourite son, stroking his hair (dressed in the archaic mode) and pointing to his accurately placed omphalos. She will then make you a salad and cook you an omelette, if you wish. On a hillside above there is said to be a third kouros, also in good condition, but I have never found him.
While up in these hills you may like to visit the trio of villages, Meso, Ano and Kato Potamia, at the head of the long fertile valley which descends to the coastal plain. The biggest of the three is Ano Potamia, a cool shady place with winding lanes between old houses. A handsome late Byzantine church is being restored here, and there is an accommodating cafe-restaurant opposite. Beware, however, of taking the road on further, which is signposted optimistically to Chalkio. Much of the surface is still bare rock, and you would be better to return direct to Naxia by the shorter route.
There are still more castles, towers, monasteries and two or three classical temples to be traced by the adventurous traveller. Naxians have a great pride in their history, and it would not be difficult to find someone to direct you to most of them. Wine is still made in quantity throughout the island, and sold either in bottles or from the wood ibareli). The best is from the bareli, white and unresinated with a
slight golden tinge; it has a flowery essence and considerable strength. The wine of Naxos was in demand by connoisseurs in the seventeenth century, as Randolph tells us: ‘A French merchant brought 5000 Barrels of wine, while I was there, which cost him but half a dollar per Barrel, which is about half a crown English for 15 (Jallons of good wine.’
Apollo, Dionysus and Demeter are the divine patrons of Naxos, and they bring it the gifts of sun, wine and fertile earth, which have easily survived the Venetian Dukes and Turkish Pashas.