Athens flaunts its splendour while the popular islands of Mykonos and Santorini exude a sun-burnt balminess, seeming to spring from a land that’s warm and abundant.

However, when our boutique luxury ship nosed into the port terminal in Chios town on the island of the same name, we succumbed instantly to its earthy appeal. Chios, the fifth-largest Greek island is located in the north-eastern Aegean Sea, a few nautical miles off Turkey.

The island hummed with the simple pleasures of life. In the main town, teenagers thundered past on devil bikes, elderly men sat smoking in cafes, seeming to ponder on lives well lived; some chewed mastic thoughtfully, the local gum made from the dried sap of the mastic tree and valued for its medicinal and culinary value. Others stared into empty space as though trying to figure out their future. Young couples on the threshold of an idyllic life together strolled past while Greek mamas walked wearily home, burdened with the day’s groceries.

A woman on the balcony of her home

Chios was once called Fragrant Island and even now exudes a delicate scent, exuded by cypress and pine trees that lined the uphill road over which our coach trundled.  Studded with wind-swept cinnamon-coloured sandy beaches and gnarled mastic trees, exploring Chios island’s villages is an opportunity to experience an unadulterated version of Greek life. We were heading to the southern hilltop villages of Pyrgi and Mesta, dating back to the Byzantine era which were built to protect the island’s beloved mastic trees.

En route our guide told us how, back in the day, Chios had become one of the wealthiest outposts in the world, known for its maritime prowess and the world’s only commercial producer of mastic. Marooned in the bluest of blue seas, Chios exuded a siren call. Its expensive beverages were coveted, he told us, and the island was plundered and pillaged by marauders who sought to possess its riches, tossed like a football between North African and Turkish pirates who left behind a trail of destruction.

Doorway to a home in Mesta village

When our coach pulled into Pyrgi, we inhaled the scrubbed spring air and absorbed the peace of a destination devoid of selfie-seeking tourists. We had stumbled on a hamlet of unvarnished beauty where we could see slices of Greek life via the lens of a local rather than a tourist wanting to tick off all the boxes on his or her itinerary. Pyrgi shimmered in the sunlight and the colours were as bright as forks of lightning in a dark sky.

Our small group of tourists became a part of the canvas of village life, unnoticed by a weather-beaten gent sitting on the doorstep of his cottage, absorbed in cleaning a tray-full of mastic. He ignored us while a matron who was sweeping the porch of her home, smiled at us in welcome. A local grandmother pointed us to a church that rose like a prayer in the town’s square. Off the square was another church Aghii Apostoli, decorated with 12th century frescoes.

A Greek Orthodox church

A convivial evening in Pyrgi

The hallmarks of a touristy destination were largely missing in the medieval villages — very few camera-festooned tourists, just a handful of souvenir shops hawking kitschy thingamabobs that no one needs. A grizzled elderly man gently tried to sell us some mastic pieces (hard sell is unknown in these parts). Despite the language barrier, he managed to convey that chewing mastic is good for the gums. We learnt later that it is a cholesterol buster as well and that the mastic from Chios has a unique piney flavour.

We left Pyrgi to drive on to another one of the island’s fortified villages — Mesta — encased in a silence behind which cameos of Greek domestic life played out like a reality show.  The ‘actors’ were entirely relatable, and allowed us a peek into their every-day lives. Mesta is another mastic village and is built like a baffling maze. In the old days, the population was prosperous thanks to the sale of mastic. To protect its hard-earned riches from invaders and pirates, the homes shouldered each other for protection and the streets coiled up on each other like flowers at dawn.

A view of the waterfront from a cafe on a cruise ship

One of the best-preserved villages on the island of Chios, Mesta’s residents seemed a trifle startled to see tourists troop through their town, oohing and aahing at the ancient encircling walls, tunnels and alleys covered with vaulted arches to guard against rampaging, one-eyed pirates and would-be smugglers of mastic. Ancient artists hand-painted black and white geometric patterns called ksista on to building walls to disorient and distract those who wandered into the village with evil intent.

Portrait of a happy woman in Mesta village.

The shuttered homes imparted to the village an aura of dream-like mystery and an Alice in Wonderland type of wonderment. Some homes had orange trees in their backyard which sprayed their warm sweet scent on the air. In one of them, a portly elderly resident relaxed in a chair enjoying the fruit, unmindful of the juice that dribbled down her chin. 

A painted house in Pyrgi village

We stopped by Maona Lounge and Cafe, a quaint fuel stop in a vintage home, vaunted for its burgers, coffee and beverages, to soak up the daily drama of life as it unspooled outside the café — people checking curios at a curio shop, sipping coffee at the handful of cafes, admiring the medieval architecture of the village. We felt again the rustic pulse of this hamlet in the hushed ornate interiors of a Greek Orthodox church, strung with chandeliers, candelabra and an elaborate iconostasis (a wall of icons and religious paintings), with heavy silver doors.

A church dominates the village square in Pyrgi

That evening when we boarded our ship again, our heads swam with visions of the Greek love for life that we had witnessed. We imagined Zorba the Greek from the film classic of the same name, whirling and twirling on the beaches of Chios island, sheer joy spiking his feet. And a sense of bliss flooded our beings.