Greece Off-Peak

That quaint fisherman village with the stone house whose charm calls your name on Airbnb. It’s the ideal location for your Greek summer vacation: its proximity to cute cafes perching on the edge of the harbour, the temptation to dip a toe into the turquoise shine of the water below, a balcony positioned perfectly for the sunset, surrounded by a buzzing atmosphere in the evening with bars and lights and shops which sell mementos and just a pinch of that stereotypical Greekness your followers search for on your Instagram story (maybe a bit of smashing plates or some traditional dancing or some songs from Zorba the Greek). 

But what we take back home and yearn for until next summer is a fantasy that we fund. Afterall, behind the scenes, the γιαγιά who cooks the food served on our plates returns to caring for her family and teaching them the recipes of her ancestors. The strips of sand covered by towels and shaded by umbrellas go back to being the nesting spot of turtles, the playground of seagulls, the resting place of the tide. The deck chairs are packed away for the winter and nature takes over. The footsteps which mark the sand aren’t missed because now the waves can be heard clearly and can finally stop fighting to cover up human tracks. 

 

When the tourists return home, the locals suddenly crawl out of their shells. They face with confidence the short walk to the bakery for their daily loaf, without weaving through a crowd or fending off the paparazzi. The fishermen unload their catch in private, away from the public eye. They engage in conversation with like minded friends, pick up a morning coffee after their labour and watch the landscape which belongs to them. Only. 

 

They trudge home after a long day, passing by the eyesores of the parallel summer world which lie uninhabited at this time of the year. But they immediately dread the season ahead when they imagine the LED lights turning back on and the tumbleweed being replaced with flying water toys and rubbish swept up by the coastal breeze. 

 

Eventually the time comes around when work begins. Greece’s volunteers clad the landscape with armour and attempt to stabilize its legs to prepare it for mass tourism. The summer is an annual war- against noise, crowds, destruction, media. 

The period of regrowth, purity, silence and naturalism doesn’t last long. Tourists are on a high when they return once again but Greece is in a period of seasonal depression.