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About Skiathos...

In the shade of Papadiamanti
Suddenly, a pleasant dew surrounds us, heavy shadow, impenetrable from the sun, as an protective umbrella it embraces. We are in Skiathos, in the island of the big short-story writer, Alexandro Papadiamanti (1851-1911) and Alexandros Moraitidi (1850-1929). We walk in the small peninsula, in the jewel of island, in Boyrtzi. With awe we insistently lean the look in the embossed form of Papadiamanti. The Enetic ruins that are saved from the destruction that made Frantzesko Morozini in 1660 lend bigger glamor in the space. Neoclassical buildings accommodate a school. It must be a musician school because from the open windows we hear children's melodic voices… No, it is not school, it is the Cultural Center of Municipality. Beside there is a outdoor theater where it realizes cultural events. But how we hadn't observed it until now?

We have so many things to do, so much to see, that genuinely we do not know from where should we begin, besides when you travel as we do, then all the doors are open and everything available. With a decisive step we go to the door of Residence of Alexandros Papadiamanti. Modest, humble, small. One only bedwhich you would say that there laid down a child. A simple table in which he wrote his splendid short stories. How was here so much art, so much imagination in minimal square?

Anyone wonders why Greeks dream Bali, Seicheles and other exotic parts and distant resorting in holiday-loans, when in few only hours can find them in the land and coastal paradise, that called Koykoynaries. How we reached up to there? By swimming, of cource. A pine-clad region of incredible beauty unfolds front in our astonished eyes. A dreamed beach , immense, sandy, friendly. In Eastern there is a small river, which its banks are connected with one graphic bridge. The moon, brilliant, luminous is presented sewed with small stars blue deep tulle of uranium of fixation. The calm sea invites us to get into once again in her humid guts,and promises miracles. Without second thought we dive and we swim, following the silver path that moon engrave . And, around - around, when with anterior, when with supine, when on our back as died in order to keep forces, but also have view the sky, we reach in Aselino. Absolute Dark and quietness. The breath of sea is just heard. As whisper. But, where did the moon go ? This beautiful region in the north-western department of island, with the beautiful sundy coast is ours. Alone, all alone, we, and the sand. The voluble breeze caresses water and tells stories where unfortunately we do not achieve to understand. We stand for a little until we rest. We shouldgo to Troyllo, to Saint Paraskeui, to Platania, to the Megali Ammos, to the dentelated coasts of Kanapitsas, but also to the historical Castle, built to naturally strenghened locality in northern utmost of island. In the Castle that had existed shelter of residents in the years of Ottoman domination and piratical raids. Here in the marine region of Castle in 1943 was sunk the submarine “Lampros Katsonis”.