Page 89 - ANDRONIS MAGAZINE 2025

ESCAPE_ Paros

A glimpse of
untouched paradise:
Aerial view of
Panteronisi, a
mesmerising islet
with dazzling
turquoise waters,
floating serenely
between Paros and
Antiparos in the
heart of the Cyclades,
Greece.

THE FIRST THING THAT strikes you about Paros is the
light. It spills over the island in great golden waves,
bouncing off whitewashed walls, shimmering in the
blue of the Aegean, and seeping into the very soul of
the place. There’s an unhurried rhythm here, a cadence
set by the whispering wind in the olive groves and
the lapping waves on golden shores. Paros isn’t just
a destination—it’s a state of being.

WHERE THE WIND STILL SINGS
Venture inland, away from the well-trodden paths This is not just another Greek island. This is Paros,
of Parikia and Naoussa, and you’ll find yourself in
a landscape where time slows to a whisper. The old in all its untamed beauty and poetic grace.
windmills stand like solemn guardians of the past,
their wooden arms long stilled, but their presence
undiminished. Once, these windmills powered the
livelihoods of generations, grinding grain under the
relentless gusts of the Aegean winds. Today, they offer
silent testimony to an era when life was dictated by the
elements, and resilience was woven into the island’s
fabric. But in the village of Ysterni, the past breathes
still. Here, tucked away in the quiet, you’ll find the
last wood-fired bakery of the island. The scent of fresh
bread—thick crusted, golden, impossibly inviting—
wafts through the air. The bakery is a living relic,
its ovens once kindled by the millers of Lefkes, their
craft carried through generations. One bite of the
warm, crackling crust and you understand: this isn’t
just bread; it’s history, baked fresh every morning.

A VILLAGE SYMPHONY
Each village on Paros hums with its own quiet melody.
In the mountainous embrace of Lefkes, cobbled streets
weave through archways draped in bougainvillaea.
This was once the capital of Paros, a place where
nobility and poets found solace in the crisp mountain
air. Today, it remains a stronghold of tradition, where
elderly men sip ouzo under the shade of ancient trees,
and the House of Literature welcomes wandering souls
in search of inspiration. Further east, Marpissa rises

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