The Admiral’s House in Kastellorizo, Greece
Spring had only just begun when I found myself travelling with friends along the ancient Greek sites scattered across the coast of Asia Minor. For days, the Aegean accompanied us — sometimes glimpsed from winding heights, sometimes touched along sandy shores where the serpentine road descended to meet it, as at half-submerged Patara, swept by winds and swollen waves.
View of Kastellorizo, rising from the Mediterranean, from the coast of Asia Minor – photographed by Barbara Athanassidis
Approaching Kaş, we paused before a panoramic view that stirred us deeply: across the restless water lay Kastellorizo, Greece’s easternmost island, poised at the edge of the Mediterranean world. The sight awakened an almost childlike excitement among us. Though it meant altering our itinerary, we resolved at once to cross over, if only for a few hours.
A Turkish captain agreed to take us, albeit with visible reluctance. The wind was blowing at seven Beaufort; the sea rose in mountainous swells. “Let us wait,” he advised. “If it calms, we shall have our signal.” Yet we were determined. The distance was a mere two and a half kilometres — three quarters of an hour, no more.
The picturesque harbour of Kastellorizo, Dodecanese, Greece
When at last he emerged from his office and called, “Let’s go!”, we followed eagerly. Our small vessel carried us along with crates of fruit and vegetables for the islanders. Soon, however, all practicalities vanished from my thoughts as the captain proved himself a maestro, steering through the heaving waters with composure and instinct. Kastellorizo appeared and disappeared between the crests, now directly ahead, now vanishing behind a wall of foam, then re-emerging to one side as though teasing our anticipation.
Gradually its rugged outline sharpened: steep, rocky mountains rising to a plateau, austere and magnificent. Just before we entered the sheltered harbour, my eyes were drawn to a white villa standing alone on a promontory. A strange familiarity stirred within me.
The Admiral’s House, Kastellorizo, Dodecanese, Greece – photographed by Barbara Athanassiadis
It was the Admiral’s House, described years before by a dear friend whose father — an admiral in the Greek Navy and a native of the island — had designed it. Suspended above the azure sea, encircled by terraces, it commanded uninterrupted views towards the Turkish coast and ancient Lycia, from which we had just sailed.
My friend had spoken of the house with reverence: of its faithful adherence to traditional architecture, of marble-topped tables beneath arched loggias, of bougainvillea in Schiaparelli pink cascading beside palms, of a restored staircase leading to a covered verandah facing the medieval castle — her cherished retreat after a morning swim. Seeing it now, luminous against rock and sea, I felt as though imagination and reality had momentarily merged.
View of Kastellorizo Harbour, Dodecanese, Greece
As our boat rounded into the harbour’s calm embrace, another vision unfolded — one wholly unexpected. The waterfront was lined with tall, dignified houses painted in confident shades of ochre, coral, pale blue, green and rose. Arranged amphitheatrically around the bay, they resembled a row of small mansions, their shuttered windows hinting at former prosperity, when Kastellorizo’s fleet carried trade across the Mediterranean. For so tiny an island, it possessed extraordinary grace.
We disembarked, and the captain assured us he would return in a few hours. Yet as the wind whipped away my hat, unease crept in. Our luggage remained in Turkey; if the weather worsened, where would we spend the night? I felt curiously untethered without my books and travel journal. Still, surrendering to circumstance, we chose an open taverna and lunched splendidly on Greek dishes, welcomed warmly by islanders unaccustomed to visitors so early in the season. Winter leaves the island almost to itself.
Afterwards, escaping the music and impromptu dancing, I wandered alone through immaculate lanes paved with pebbles. Not a trace of litter disturbed the serenity. Two genial locals accompanied me as far as the cathedral, whose bell tower rose proudly above the town. Inside, I learned that its granite columns had been transported by sea in 1835 from the ancient temple of Apollo at Patara — a remarkable continuity of history across water and centuries.
The author strolling through the charming streets of Kastellorizo, Dodecanese, Greece
As sunset softened the sky, the light turned honey-gold, gentling even the wind. I climbed to the medieval castle, restored by Crusaders in the fourteenth century, and gazed towards Asia Minor. The mountains across the strait flushed pink in the fading sun, seeming close enough to touch — close enough for seabirds to traverse freely, indifferent to borders and flags. In that stillness, the island revealed its quiet magic.
A friend soon found me with unexpected news: should the captain fail to return, islanders had offered us their homes for the night. The generosity moved me deeply. “Aren’t you worried?” he asked. I realised that until that moment I had not been. Beauty had suspended anxiety.
Then, out upon the water, I discerned a small white shape leaving Kaş harbour.
“He is coming,” I said softly.
Scenic view of Kastellorizo from the Castle of the Knights of St. John, Dodecanese, Greece
Indeed, the captain was crossing back towards us. As I watched, something else occurred: the wind subsided, the waves lost their fury, and the sea smoothed itself as though in acquiescence. By the time the boat entered the harbour, the water lay almost calm. I cannot claim to understand the science of winds, yet it felt as though nature herself had granted us safe passage.
Night had fallen when we departed Kastellorizo. We glided quietly across the darkened sea towards Asia Minor, carrying with us the island’s colours, kindness and improbable serenity — a fleeting interlude at the very edge of Europe, suspended between memory and dream.
Setting sail from Kastellorizo, Dodecanese, Greece
* I visited Kastellorizo once again and stayed at the Admiral’s House, courtesy of my friend. My delightful sojourn was recounted in the book GREECE, The Dance of the Seas