We didn’t expect much from Serifos, which we didn’t know anything about either, and as we docked on Livadia beach after a long day’s sailing, we realized that it must be a popular vacation destination, as there were quite a few tourists, almost including one of Dad’s friends, who had left the day before.

On Navily I had read that the village was a fifteen-minute walk away. Although the Hora looks a little further away from us, high up on its hill, I was keen to stretch my legs and set off alone, when finally the rest of the group followed.

After forty minutes on a path made mainly of steps that cut across the winding road, we entered what looked like a ghost town, labyrinthine despite its small size, reminiscent of the dreamlike atmosphere of David Lynch films. The eerie atmosphere doubled when we lost the children, and our repeated whistles were answered only by silence. It turned out that they had lost sight of us and had initially stationed themselves in the church square, but after a few minutes of waiting had started to look for us in the alleyways. Fortunately, God had the decency not to keep the comic circus going too long, as we ran into circles without seeing each other.

South African tourists arriving in the opposite direction confirmed that they too found this middle part of town absolutely deserted, and that the hora was a little further on.

From here, we made our way to the pretty village square, reminiscent of the one in Nysiros (the Unesco World Heritage site, tiny and serving as a terrace for the surrounding cafés and restaurants, which had furnished it with their colorful chairs, tables and sofas), albeit very busy this time as we’d arrived just in time for the aperitif. Judging that we deserved one, we toasted to this impromptu and unusual climb at Café Stou Stratou. Fresh peach juice, sodas and Spritz. Cheers!