We decide to go inland away from the beaches and the usual haunts of visitors. We want to see the villages that have existed for hundreds or even thousands of years. We decide to go inland because Naxos is the largest, the greenest, and the most fertile of the Cycladic islands, and is renowned for its farming, its crops, its olive trees, its food; it’s the agricultural heart of the Cyclades, and the historic centre of Cycladic culture. This rich land is the reason so many invaders have laid claim to it, and we want to go to the centre of the centre: the villages where ordinary people live, the farmers, the cheese makers, the olive oil producers.

We decide to go inland towards the mountains.





Don’t get me wrong. This journey is not that far off the beaten path, or even at all really, but it’s much less common than going to the beach where most visitors hang out. We want a glimpse of a more authentic Naxos, and there’s a local bus that will take us there.

The bus leaves from Chora for Filoti at 9.30. You can get off the bus in Chalki and walk by rural paths to Filoti; that’s for us! There’s a crowd waiting and the bus fills up quickly until it’s standing room only. On the bus I get chatting with four young women from Toronto who are off to climb Mt Zas, the highest mountain in the Cyclades. That’s not for us, though I wish it could be. It reminds me of my younger days cooking in wilderness big game hunting camps.

Zas is a corruption of Zeus. According to Greek mythology he was raised in secret in a cave on Mt Zas because his father, Cronus, had already eaten five of Zeus’ siblings. Nice.

It’s a half hour ride to Chalki with four stops along the way; I’m so glad we have seats. Our first stop in Chalki is for breakfast. Feeling our way by the tips of our fingers,





we arrive here.





From my notes: We have breakfast at a lovely cafe shaded by vines, then spend an hour wandering around looking for Chalki in Chalki. I have this idea of what I’ll find and can’t find it. I think I’m looking for the Chalki that’s beyond the commercial centre, or a less gentrified Chalki.

Our searching brings us down sweet narrow lanes





and quickly out of the village, past the stubborn remains of ancient buildings,





past great-grandfather olive trees hundreds of years old,





past a small local creature sunning itself,





down dirt lanes bordered by age-old classic stone walls





past grassy fields and plentiful olive groves, with the mountains always a steadfast backdrop,





until we arrive at a decision point:





We feel a bit like we’ve landed in Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. All that’s lacking is the caterpillar to tell us: One side will make you grow taller, and the other side will make you grow shorter.

I don’t know what makes us turn left, but it brings us to this:





It’s the church of Saint George Diasoritis, a Byzantine church from the 11th century. It’s closed, but I imagine the interior is as lovely as the Orthodox church of equal age at the top of the hill in Chora. Attesting to its importance in the Byzantine Empire (300-1207), Naxos is peppered with over two hundred churches from that era.

We make our way back, and suddenly there is Chalki, which seems equal parts crumbling-ancient and prosperous-modern, all flagstone streets and neo-classical mansions, some restored, some not. I think I’d been expecting something more earthy, more farm-community, less affluent; if I’d known it had been the capital of a Venetian Duchy for three hundred years I’d have expected something closer to what we see. I’ve written before about expectations, but they get me every time.




















We are then finally on our way to Filoti, walking past ancient stone walls,





by grassy fields, down narrow rural paths, and crossing a makeshift foot bridge over a small stream.





Again in the clear, we look across a field see this impressive but strange building.





What is it? Who’s responsible for this fearsome building? It’s a building that says I’m here to stay. Don’t mess with me. It’s a building that dares you to be unimpressed. I’d seen something similar in Chalki, and now here’s another one. I’m amused by the funny little crenelation things at the top as if it’s trying to be a castle but can’t quite make it.

From 1207, when Marco Sanudo captured the island, Naxos was under Venetian rule for over three hundred years. Sanudo conquered Naxos and ten other islands of the Cyclades Archipelago. He declared himself Duke of Archipelago, with Naxos as the capital. It drastically changed the lives of Naxians as they were now forced to live under the oppression of a foreign power. There are thirty of these defensive towers on Naxos alone, built by the Venetians to keep themselves separate and safe from the people they ruled. The towers were also used as an early warning system. A fire would be lit on the roof of the tower nearest a raid or uprising, which sent a signal to the next tower, where a fire was lit sending the signal to the next tower, and so on. Some towers were monasteries, and some were summer houses of Venetian nobles. But this particular tower, mimicking the Venetians, was actually built by Markakis Politis, a Greek, in the 18th century. It was a bastion of the revolts against the Frankish feudal lords, but Politis was finally captured, exiled to Lesvos, and hanged by the Turks. I guess he wasn’t here to stay after all.

Moving on, unknowingly in the wrong direction, we come to little Kaloxylos, a sliver away from Chalki.








It’s a pretty hamlet, built on the side of a hill, surrounded by olive groves, plane trees, and oaks, and home to the Kaloxylos Folklore Museum full of items relating to the history and culture of Naxos.





We don’t linger. We’re still very close to Chalki trying to find our way to Filoti by the rural lanes. We walk around in circles, past typical Cycladic architecture, past the local church, past this whimsical house with its trompe-l’oeil door,





and find ourselves back in front of the museum. And that’s when I remember maps.me! Google maps is useless for off-road directions, but maps.me is amazing for it. Although it is now much more, I think it began as an app for exactly that – hiking and walking trails. Either way, it’s much better than Google maps or Apple maps for off-road trails. With maps.me we are finally on our way.

We walk along shaded country lanes,





past chicken coops,





past olive groves and Byzantine churches,





along paved rural back-roads, more shaded dirt lanes, and then suddenly, unexpectedly, find ourselves in the hamlet of Kerami, where someone loves very bright colours,





and where Markakis Politis has another tower.





Beyond Kerami we come to views over Tragea, the beautiful valley that is home to all these villages, with Mt Zas in the centre, defining the skyline.





The trail takes us more or less parallel with the road but above it and always with Mt Zas looming. As we walk by the olive groves we can sometimes see the road below. Then at last we see Filoti in the distance spread out before us.





Descending and following the road for a while, we finally arrive.





Filoti is the largest village in the Cyclades, and although it has the biggest population there are still more sheep here than people, and many of the residents are shepherds and goatherds.

Exploring the town a little we find our way to the richly and beauteously decorated Panagia Filotitissa church,











and amble along the lanes and byways








of this town stacked up against the lower slopes of the mountain.





We find the unmistakable Barozzi Tower, dating from 1650, still standing at the heart of the village. Barozzi was by all accounts one of the most oppressive and evil of the Venetian overlords, but today all that’s left is this big ugly building.





The age of the building is truly apparent in the elaborate but rusted gates; beauty from a bygone age.





Eventually we return to the main “square” with its enormous plane tree to wait for the bus.

From Don’s notes: Although we’re among the first to get to the bus stop, the bus pulls up past where we’re standing and Ali has to do one of her quarterback sneaks to get to the front of the line and secure us seats. I begin to worry if I’m going to be able to get onto the bus, but eventually I do. The bus ends up completely filled, but we have a relaxed ride back to town.

As I watch the crowd surging forward I’m also a bit worried that Don won’t be able to get on the bus, and am relieved when he does. After a half hour or so we can see Chora on the horizon.





From Don: In Chora we drag ourselves along the seafront and stop briefly at a bakery and at a supermarket. We’d arranged to meet with the owner of Studios Stratos to ask for a late checkout and luggage storage until it’s time for the ferry the next day. This is cheerfully granted, then the owner regales us with a long complicated story about her encounter with a South African guest who, she found out from the guest, killed crocodiles for a living and sold the chest plate to Louis Vuitton to make expensive shoes and bags. She had a bad feeling about this guest, and after he left she smudged his room with incense to drive out the bad energies. We’re in complete sympathy with her actions, but are ready for dinner, so we make our apologies and head back to our room. Dinner is the same as last night: lettuce, tomato, cucumber, slices of ham and cheese, with bread and butter. Simple but delicious.

And thus ends our day lost in the villages of Naxos.









Coming up: Naxos is ringed with golden beaches and we hang out at two of them.






All words and images by Alison Louise Armstrong unless otherwise noted
© Alison Louise Armstrong and Adventures in Wonderland – a pilgrimage of the heart, 2010-2023.