Every morning when I would go up on the terrace of my hotel in Paros, there would always be some Greek coffee and cake made by the hostess, Santa, waiting for me. Santa’s husband, Konstantinos, would whip out a map of the island and ask me what I planned to do. He’d ask about my interests and offer personalized suggestions for exploring the island.
When I mentioned to Konstantinos that I enjoyed long walks, he immediately recommended the Byzantine route. It would be easy to reach from the small island, all I had to do was take the bus to Lefkes, and from there, it was about an hour’s walk along the path to the village of Prodromos. He did caution me that, since it wasn’t quite tourist season yet, my food options in Prodromos would be limited to just a taverna and a cafe.
Lefkes is a beautiful village, the epitome of a quintessential Greek village . Finding the start of the Byzantine route proved tricky despite all the signs. But once I arrived, I felt a shift. There’s something transformative about being in a place that’s ancient. Knowing the history beneath your feet makes you think differently, as if you’re stepping into the past. In Vancouver, where I live, nothing is that old, and it’s one of the many reasons I’m drawn to Europe with its rich, ancient cultures. I couldn’t help but wonder about the stories tied to this place, who had walked here before, what they had discovered. It felt almost Biblical. There’s something about old places that seem to hold more stories.
The view of Lefkes from the Byzantine route : whitewashed houses tucked into the hills.
From the moment I set out on the Byzantine route, what struck me most was the profound silence. For the entire hour I walked, I didn’t encounter a single person. The only sounds were my footsteps on the stones and the constant buzzing of insects, there were so many of them. The realization that I was alone hit me.
I was especially grateful for the sunhat I had bought the day before in Parikia; there was hardly any shade along the bare, sloping hills, and sunstroke was a real concern.
There was something deeply meditative about the solitude, just one step after another along an ancient path. There was also something rare and remarkable about it. When was the last time I had been completely alone like this? Probably never.
Reaching the village of Prodromos felt like a true reward for the long walk. I found the local taverna and treated myself to one of the best gyros I’d ever had.
