Summer on the ‘Fragrant Island’

We lounged around a row of rickety tables on the coast of the Greek island of Chios, inhaling the salty scent of the clear, blue Aegean, whose waves lapped 10 feet away from our legs. Three old men rested in the shade of an adjacent taverna, sitting on the edge of the village’s rarely traveled main road. It felt like we were the only tourists for miles.A Greek island with more tulips and trees than vacationers, Chios is a reprieve from the “Let’s Go”-toting students and party-hopping jetsetters that descend on other islands like hungry locusts. With 135 miles of coastline, Chios offers a genuine escape from urban chaos and hyperactivity. The restaurants and nightspots cater to the island’s 50,000 inhabitants, and souvenir shops selling overpriced peasant shirts are rare.Most of the island’s inhabitants live in Chios Town, the main port, leaving the rocky northern region relatively unpopulated and the fertile southern regions dotted with tiny villages. But what genuinely sets Chios apart is the perfume of the flowers and citrus groves, which help garner Chios’s nickname as the “fragrant island.”We stayed at the seaside Erytha Hotel and Resort (821 00 Karfas, 30-227-103-23-11-16, www.erytha.gr; about $110 a night for a double room), located in the town of Karfas. My room was sparse, with wooden floors and an 8-inch television with one English language channel (CNN). It lacked a hairdryer and ironing board, and Internet access was limited to one computer in the lobby. I couldn’t find the alarm clock.“We don’t have any clocks,” the woman minding the desk said, adding, “It’s better that way.” I found consolation in the fact that my second-story balcony not only overlooked the shimmering sea, but also Turkey’s shoreline, roughly four miles across the water.Unsurprisingly, the island’s relationship with Turkey is a delicate conversation point. During most of the four centuries of Ottoman rule, Chios retained its autonomy, possibly because the Turkish Sultan enjoyed the healing benefits of the resin from the island’s mastic trees. When asked, the people of Chios say the two countries need to find peace. But they’re also quick to point out that when the islanders joined the fight for Greek independence in 1822, their enraged neighbors ravaged their land, slaughtering 25,000 civilians. Today on Chios, many remnants of Ottoman rule – such as the Turkish baths – have fallen into disrepair.Our second day in Chios began with a hotel breakfast of fresh tomatoes and cucumbers, eaten with feta and washed down with strong coffee. Afterward, we headed to the medieval village of Pyrgi, one of the few cities to withstand an earthquake in 1881. The stunning buildings of Pyrgi retain their centuries-old decorations of intricate black-and-white geometric designs. The narrow streets are winding – designed to confuse pirates and raiders.Outside the village’s walls, we explored the source of the most captivating smell of Chios: the mastic tree, which looks like a large, gnarled shrub. The small, thick leaves release a smell similar to a mixture of anise and eucalyptus, and the tree’s resin has been used in medicine for more than 2,000 years.The scent invigorated us, but what we really needed was food, so we stopped in the coastal town of Emporios for lunch. Most Greek tavernas serve similar dishes – a delicious spread of tomatoes and crumbling feta, fresh fried fish, thick tzatziki, and tender octopus marinated in vinegar. Invariably, stray cats and dogs gathered around, vying for scraps. We sat outdoors, the sun sapping our energy, yet we managed to press on and see the nearby black stone beaches.Later, we went to a nightspot known for traditional Greek music, Pagopoieio (2 A’Parodos Libanou, 30-227-102-75-15). The stone building’s vaulted ceilings and brass chandeliers gave it a medieval air. At first, the band played modern music, an unfortunate amalgamation of 1980s synthesizer pop and “Phantom of the Opera”-style tunes. An hour later, we were preparing to leave when a band member began to strum his bouzouki, an instrument resembling a mandolin. The audience clapped in expectation. The band resumed, playing traditional favorites. Friends stood in circles, holding hands and dancing. The bar passed out baskets of red and white carnations, to be thrown at the dancers. During certain songs, individuals from the crowd performed solo, relaying stories of love and loss through graceful, improvised movements. I threw flowers at everyone I saw.The trip was almost over, but I had a personal goal to fulfill: renting a Vespa. The hotel directed me to Rent a Moto (821 00 Karfas, 30-227-103-30-36; rentals about $14 a day). “You ride one before?” the rental owner asked. No. He shook his head, but within five minutes, I sped off his lot. At first unsteady, I soon caught on. I honked before rounding blind corners, warning oncoming traffic of my presence, and raced past fragrant lemon and orange groves. My helmet didn’t quite fit, but I ignored it, winding up green hills and past villages blooming with bright flowers before roaring back to sea level. The initial plan was to cruise around all afternoon, but after two hours, thoughts of vehicular safety suddenly sprang to mind. I returned the Vespa, opting instead for a nap. It’s hard work, touring like a native.

Summer on the ‘Fragrant Island’

Summer on the ‘Fragrant Island’

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