Original subtitles

(THEME MUSIC)

PETER MANEAS: In the first four series of My Greek Odyssey,

we visited islands of the Saronic, the Ionian, the Dodecanese,

the Western Cycladic, and the Northern Aegean.

In series five,

we're seeing the Southern and Central Cycladic.

Islands you've never heard of, like Levitha, Anafi, Donoussa.

And ones you know well, like Santorini,

and the big one,

Crete.

This episode of My Greek Odyssey will see me visiting three islands.

Each with their own unique stories.

It all begins on Amorgos.

A mountainous land mass that despite its pretty scenery,

numerous beaches, and quiet villages,

is yet to have been overwhelmed by the forces of mass tourism.

Of particular notice is a spectacular monastery,

unlike any other place of worship I've seen.

I'll also be visiting

the remote and sparsely inhabited islands of Levitha and Kinaros,

where life is a complete contrast

to that of the populated neighbouring landmasses.

Our journey has taken us about 50km due north of Anafi,

to the island of Amorgos.

It's the easternmost Cycladic Island

and one of the prettiest in the group,

not just for the landscapes, but the towns too.

Coming into Amorgos, you'll land in one of two ports.

Most probably this one of Katapola,

which means katapolis, lower city

because it was the lower city of an ancient Roman town.

And the town actually started there on the east-southern hill of Minoa.

Now, the thing I like about this place

is that you can wake up to the smell of fresh bread.

You just sit here, get an Airbnb, and stay here for the week.

It's just such a relaxing place.

Not with too many tourists.

It hasn't been invaded.

It just feels good.

Over morning, the port is a peaceful setting,

with the gentle sea breeze

delivering the aroma of freshly baked bread across the harbour.

Man, it's making me hungry.

Amorgos is a fairly large landmass of around 120 square kilometres,

with a population of a little under 2,000.

And despite the natural and manmade beauty,

it somehow remains a relatively quiet place.

Not overrun by tourists.

The island is brimming with old-world charm,

where small tavernas and cafes serve fresh local produce

that you can enjoy while taking in the slow-moving scenery.

One thing that you'll appreciate

is that for an island with few visitors,

there is still all the creature comforts

that the modern traveller looks for.

And it comes with an authenticity

that's lost in the tourist traps and busy islands.

Another thing to note

is that Amorgos is a place where you can find your own adventure.

And there's no better way to explore the towns than by foot.

Around every corner and hidden in the alleyways,

are all sorts of gems.

At one point in time,

there was a massive dynamic shift in the Mediterranean,

as a result of the pirates.

They ran rampant.

Everybody fled the coastline and went into the mountains.

Here in Amorgos, in the ninth century,

they left Katapola,

and they came up here and established Chora,

this beautiful village.

It's full of nooks and crannies, and nice little bridges over.

It's become a nice place to live in.

A short drive from the main port of Katapola

is the capital and largest village of Chora,

which is located centrally on the island.

Sitting 400 metres above sea level and surrounded by mountains,

it feels quite remote.

Adding to the sense of isolation is the serenity.

The maze-like alleyways

are seemingly deserted with little more than the sounds of birds

and a gentle breeze filling the air.

Very few people around.

They're all asleep.

2:00 to 5:00, everybody sleeps.

The people here, like many of the sleepy islands,

operate on their own schedule,

with a late start of the day and an afternoon siesta.

Rest assured,

there are plenty of places to grab a bite to eat

even if it does look like everything is closed.

Hidden amongst the Cycladic architecture

are lots of small cafes,

where it's easy to lose an hour relaxing in the shade.

It's a bit of a labyrinth,

with cobbled paths leading to dead ends and long alleys,

where the whitewashed buildings all start to look the same.

My strategy was to follow my nose and find a bite to eat

before grabbing the key to the 13th-century Venetian ruins

that tower above the town.

No worries.

Better not lose it.

It's a touch small.

Anyone can go there.

You just need to visit Stella at the Tholoura Cafe.

This volcanic plug

is the foundation for what is a medieval Kastro

that sits within the centre of Chora.

If you're anything like me,

you'll immediately be drawn to explore the castle.

It stands sentinel looking over the town below,

clearly visible as you drive into Chora.

You can't miss the thing.

And while it might not be terribly big,

it has a presence,

largely created by the interesting rock formation that sits atop.

Mind you, the steep approach to get in

presents a challenge for the knees and the lungs.

(GROANS)

Hopefully, the key fits.

(METAL SQUEAKING)

The castle,

if you can call it a castle,

started construction around 1207 by Jeremy and Andrew Gizis,

which don't really sound like medieval names.

And I think it was continued on by the Venetians.

But it looks just like a small lookout.

I don't know if you could fight from it.

What you can do though, is you can see everything.

Everything out there.

So it was probably a lookout for the locals to avoid,

I don't know, piracy.

If they saw pirates, man, it was all over.

The castle sits at the highest point,

providing views across the island and along the coast.

It was likely built out of fear.

Not as a way of fortifying a position

or showing wealth and power,

but to provide a place from which they could keep an eye out

for approaching raiders.

It may not look like it,

but this fortification was used

to protect the entire island from pirate raids.

looking out from here, I could see towering peaks.

And I was told that

to truly get an appreciation for the scale of Amorgos,

you have to go out on the trails

and hike across the mountainous heart.

Before that though, I had to get the key back to Stella.

There's no better way to get some exercise and see a place

than a hike.

And on Amorgos, when it comes to trails, you're spoilt for choice.

Joining me on the hike was Anna.

She's actually a viewer of the show from America

who contacted me through our website

to say she frequents her home island every year,

and would love to show me around.

So naturally,

when the opportunity arose to steer Mia Zoi to these shores,

I had to contact her.

Look at that.

And just imagine that that view is going to get so much better

as we go higher.

Pretty cool. You'll love it.

Pretty cool.

Anna, I don't... 15 times you've been to Amorgos?

Why do you keep coming back here?

And why did you and your husband decide to buy a house here?

Like I said, Greece is a bullseye,

Amorgos, the centre.

But more importantly, I feel like there's a magnetism to this island.

It's my happy place in the world.

I almost have to force myself to go visit other places.

Right.

But I think what draws me the most here

is that it's an island stuck in time.

It's a moment in time.

It doesn't change.

You come back, and it's like visiting a childhood,

visiting grandma's house, really.

Yeah. People are the same.

They're kind, they're gentle.

And it brings back...

Memories? Memories.

You must have a lot of memories from here.

I do.

Beautiful memories of hanging out,

going to the beach,

enjoying family,

having great dinners.

We brought... My husband and I got engaged here.

Wow.

We baptised our son here.

And again, we want this island to live not only in us

but also in our kids as well.

Some place that brings them a sense of constant

in an ever-changing world.

Well, that answers my question.

There you go.

(GIGGLES) That's awesome.

Anna, you're a university lecturer, and that's a hard enough busy life.

But you have two children, you're home-schooling them.

Your husband's a state senator.

How come you're not a bundle of nerves?

You're so relaxed.

I mean, how do you live your life with all that to do?

I come here.

This is my place to decompress and to recalibrate.

Right. That's it.

I mean, you come here

and all that other stuff you do just pales in significance,

and you recharge.

It fades away.

You come here, and it fades away.

And the beautiful landscape just takes you in.

Right.

So are there any specific memories that you ingrain in your children,

so that they can get Amorgos into them?

That's a good question.

I think what I want them to feel

is that freedom, security, the independence.

It's a feeling I want them to have, not as much the memory.

I think the memory comes secondary.

It's that feeling, it's the smells,

it's the independence.

The fact that the island is theirs to do what they want,

to enjoy, to take care of, to explore, to be adventurers.

Well, they just can't run around in Fresno like they do here.

I mean, they can stay out past 9:30

and do all sorts of stuff here, you know?

They can.

They have a freedom here that they won't have anywhere else.

Yeah, yeah.

We better get going because it's getting pretty hot.

It is.

I can honestly relate to everything Anna said.

I remember my times as a ten-year-old

visiting my parents' island of Kythira.

Coming from a big city,

you don't get the childhood freedom

to roam around all day and into the evening

without a care, and no adults watching over you.

Today, decades later, I'm now in my parents' shoes.

And when I visit Greece,

I get this feeling of total relaxation

because my son is safe and secure, wherever he goes.

I'm not saying the big cities are bad,

but that the island villages are more carefree and relaxed,

lightening a burden that's part of the modern-day rat race.

It's not too far.

We're almost there, Peter.

I've heard that many, many times on a walk in Greece.

(LAUGHS) I'm sure you have.

Yeah.

Look at that.

We're above the clouds.

We are.

You can almost touch them.

(SENTIMENTAL MUSIC)

Don't know if we're gonna catch that goat, Anna.

They're pretty quick and fast on their feet.

They're on home ground too, you know?

We are definitely at a disadvantage.

Yeah.

(SENTIMENTAL MUSIC)

Anna, that last kilometre,

no trail, no (SPEAKS GREEK).

Nothing.

I'm not too sure if I want to walk with you again.

I'm absolutely saturated here, but we've made it to the top.

That's the most important thing. Yeah, you just head up.

Yeah, here we are.

Well, we made it.

We made it, we made it.

Impressive though.

We're 700 metres up,

and there's not many places in the Greek islands

where you can see as many islands.

I mean, we can see...

So cool. ..Icaria.

We can see Naxos, Skinousia, Kofounisia.

You can see over that way, I think it's Ios and Santorini.

Mhm. Man, there's everything.

Wow. It's beautiful.

And there's your place down there.

My Katapola.

Yeah, but we better start heading back down.

Yeah.

(PETER EXHALES)

We've earned our lunch.

We have, we have.

I feel like a goat.

(CHUCKLES)

We might have to roast ourselves then to eat it later.

The scenery on the way up was stunning.

But when we reached the top,

that unbelievable 360-degree view

just hit us with all the drama and theatre

that very few places in the Aegean can.

It felt as though we could almost touch the nearby islands

through the passing clouds.

Sharing the experience with someone as positive and refreshing as Anna

made it all the more enjoyable.

Her story was remarkably similar to mine.

And it gave me a heightened belief

that the island way of life

may well be where my future is heading.

There's no place on Amorgos more photographed

than the magnificent cliff-face architecture

we're about to show you.

Pilgrims come to this far-flung island from all over the world,

with the sole purpose of visiting this unique and famous monastery.

Even for the non-religious, it's a special site.

Two monasteries received charter from the Emperor of Byzantium

in 1088.

One of them was Patmos, which is the number one.

And this one, Panagia Hozoviotissa.

It is just an unbelievably spectacular-looking monastery

that needs a bit of a walk.

I'm headed up.

The bright white monastery

sits in contrast to the darker, muted hues of the rocks.

It acts like a beacon, drawing you in from afar.

Even from well out to sea,

you can glimpse the shining building clinging to the cliffs.

Perhaps it provides some reassurance to fishermen caught in rough waters.

Now this cliff-face, it's hard to look up at,

but it's 400 metres high,

and the monastery sits 260 metres above sea level.

Now it's lime-washed white at the moment,

but at one stage,

it was the same colour as the stone that you see here.

So it was hidden from the sea, hidden from the pirates.

Long climb.

Climbing up to the monastery,

every step gives you a chance

to admire not only the looming building

but also the spectacular

and strikingly blue water of the Aegean.

It's a fitting approach for such a special landmark.

(SIGHS)

This is such a good spot to come and sit down.

One, because I need rest,

and two, because it's the final approach,

and you get a sense of the scale and architecture

of this beautiful monastery.

It's a lot bigger than what you see

when you first come around the corner.

And you've got to appreciate,

in the 18th century, there were 100 monks living here.

Today, there's only two.

What impresses me is its uniqueness,

and the number of architects, designers, writers

that come here for inspiration.

(SIGHS)

I could look at it all day, but I got to keep walking.

As you can see,

despite the many pilgrims

and tourists that frequent the monastery,

this is a peaceful setting.

Everyone that visits respects its importance.

And the effort it takes to get here

means that only the more discerning traveller visits.

There are some not-so-strict dress regulations.

No mini-skirts, no shorts.

And they've got some pants here for you to wear,

so it's not too bad.

Wow.

These stairs have got these wonderful marble treads

that have been honed by many years of foot traffic.

Almost polished.

Last few steps.

As I mentioned earlier,

today there are only two monks that reside here.

Their principal role

is to maintain the monastery and greet the pilgrims.

Father Spyridon has dedicated much of his life to the place.

And his pride is evident

in the way he openly welcomes people,

and the warm hospitality.

The journey of the icon

is as dramatic as the setting in which it now hangs.

It's believed that monks, escaping Arab plunders in Palestine,

took it and sailed almost aimlessly across the sea.

They reached the cliffs of Amorgos.

And as it reminded them

of the rocky desert they had come from,

it was a fitting location to establish a new place of worship.

(SPEAKING GREEK)

I couldn't think of a more dramatic and fitting setting for a monastery.

There's an indisputable awe about the place

that grips you from the moment you first set sight

on the shimmering white walls in the distance.

But despite its powerful presence, there's a warmth to it.

(SPEAKING GREEK)

Society has created a number of boundaries and stereotypes

that constantly and subliminally affect the way we perceive people

from all walks of life.

I've come to know many gentlemen of the cloth,

be it priests, archbishops, or monks.

Father Spyros is not what you would expect,

or should I say,

what society makes you think of how a monk is.

The day had only just begun,

and I wanted to follow him around a bit to see how he spent his hours.

And I was lucky to be invited back to his house

to help him make a fresh batch of his famous raki.

After tasting Father Spyro's sweet moonshine,

known as Psimeni Raki,

I just had to see how he makes this rocket fuel.

It has a strong flavour of cinnamon and honey,

which is quite unique.

However, something tells me

that it's not necessarily going to be the healthy concoction

Helen would approve of.

Right, 20 kilos of Raki?

20 kilos of sugar?

Helen, I'm sorry.

But it's Holy, so it's OK.

No worries.

We're caramelising three of the 20 kilos of sugar.

I thought Kyriako was heavy, but you're heavier than Kyriakos.

So this is going to become a caramelised sugar.

Cinnamon.

Cloves, yeah?

Diosmos, which is mint.

Leaves of the lemon tree.

And the skin of an orange.

Yeah.

So the 17 kilos of sugar goes in there!

Do you reckon we need to watch our weight with this, or what?

Right.

Oh, OK, and it goes into the raki.

You know what I love about Father Spyro?

He's fully vertically integrated.

He does everything. Everything.

He cooks, he makes the Psimeni raki, he gives it out.

He's been doing it for 50 years, since he was 17.

He's a tower of strength.

(LAUGHS)

(SPEAKS GREEK)

Father Spyro is a man on a mission.

Nothing stops him when he's set a task.

Helen, look away.

With his high energy levels, you think he was still in his youth.

Mate, this is hard work, I'll tell you what.

The life of a monk is not easy.

But the guy's smiling all the time.

He breaks the plate, he's still smiling.

Hey?

This reminds me of my childhood, watching my sister make toffee.

It looked and smelled exactly like this brown caramelised emulsion.

I was wondering when Father Spyro

was going to dilute this very concentrated sugary mix.

And just as the thought came,

he violently assaulted the boiling concentrate with cold tap water.

It seemed a little aggressive and agricultural,

but what do you expect from a 1,000-year-old recipe?

(LAUGHING AND COUGHING)

(SPEAKS GREEK)

Now that's going to go into the raki now.

So, let's go and check it out.

Father Spyro's raki has somewhat of a cult following,

with tourists always asking where they can get some.

Thanks to the rise in its popularity,

he's constantly in the kitchen making new batches.

We've got to try it. Of course, we got to try it.

There you are, Mr Cameraman.

It needs more sugar?

Now that was an experience to remember.

Not only have I made a new friend,

but I've got the recipe to his legendary raki.

I left Father Spyro's humble home and made my way south,

travelling through the fertile agricultural land

where people have grown grains and other crops for thousands of years.

Being a relatively remote island,

they require a certain amount of self-sustainability.

So any flat ground is planted,

and the gentle hillside slopes are terraced.

Despite the arid appearance, it's quite a productive island.

And just like most parts of Greece,

what they're able to grow or harvest from the nearby sea,

directly influences the food culture.

Speaking of the sea,

a short walk from the coastal road take you to a fascinating shipwreck.

It's a modern-day ruin

with a morose yet strangely beautiful appearance to it.

Tourists are drawn to this little cove

to see what's become somewhat of a landmark on the island.

Inland.

Well, it certainly finished in land,

or on land.

The irony of the ship's name is uncanny.

Apparently, it was being sailed by pirates travelling from Cyprus.

Wild seas struck them.

And before they could find a safe harbour,

the ship was dashed on the rocks.

It's since been renamed, Olympia.

Forget it.

At one stage, I could do it.

The wreck lies close

to the southeasternmost point of Amorgos.

This part of the island

is where you can also find several ancient ruins

that help piece together the region's millennia-long history.

The area of Arkesini is the most well-known.

And of particular interest to me is the tower of Agia Triada.

It sits inland surrounded by quaint villages where life moves slowly.

The northern part of the island is more mountainous and dramatic.

As you come to the south, you find rolling hills and valleys,

much more suitable to agriculture.

And you can see that this valley is still being worked

after 2,500 years.

And we know how valuable it was because of this baby here.

Professor Lila Marangkou,

who is a local, born and raised here,

has been studying this structure and others in the area for decades.

She's answered a lot of questions,

but there's still a lot of unanswered questions.

When you walk in here, you can tell there is a central tower.

There's a courtyard.

But, there is more.

Apparently, there's a guard house over there.

There is an apartment, a two-storey apartment just here.

We think that there's a possibility

this was privately owned by some sort of overlord or land baron

that governed the whole area.

And he had this to protect himself from the local people,

or from pirates.

We're unsure.

But what we do know is that he's inscribed his name just up here.

And I want to find that right now.

Here it is, here.

Right.

Now the gentleman's name was Thesifoldos.

There's an 'ita'.

But I can't... I seen a 'phi' there.

And there's supposed to be...

I can't see it. You'll see it.

It's there, it's there.

The tower of Agia Triada was built during the fourth century BC,

using locally quarried limestone.

There's a second theory regarding its origin and purpose.

It's also possible

it was built as part of a larger network of similar structures

that were used as lookouts and signal towers.

While there was still a few more places we wanted to film on Amorgos.

A perfect weather window opened up,

and we made the decision to seize the opportunity

and head to a couple of small remote islands

that are normally difficult to reach.

I love the story of Levitha

because it tells you

how these families live in their sustainable way.

All because of...

..one animal.

And here, there's a plethora of them.

600 goats on the island, and that's what keeps it going.

This four-square-mile landmass is home to just a single family.

There are no hotels, no rooms to rent, and no shops.

But a summer's day won't go by

without several sailing boats dropping in

to visit one of the Aegean's best-kept secrets.

A sole tavern that's run by two brothers and their mother.

Hello.

How are you?

I love the way the two boys have adapted to change.

Even though there hasn't been much change,

they do use photovoltaic cells.

They use a bit of wind

and a little bit of other technology,

but they trade their goats.

And their kids are in Patmos at school.

And eventually,

their kids will come here and work the fields.

This 9,000-acre Greek island.

I mean, it's a lifestyle many people would love to aspire to.

It takes a special kind of person

to embrace the isolation and solitude of a place like this.

I for one, couldn't do it.

No matter how many sailors visited or how many goats I had,

without the constant companionship

of a wide variety of close family and friends,

I'd go mad.

Not Tasos though.

He's one of the brothers who calls Levitha home.

He spent his lifetime living and working on the island.

If you haven't heard the term, 'paddock to plate',

well this is the quintessential example of that experience.

You see, everything we're about to eat

is grown, caught, or raised on Levitha.

The meat, fish, vegetables, cheese, olive oil.

The list goes on.

If I could give our crew the option

of dining in a fine, five-star restaurant in Athens,

or travelling several hours to come here,

I know what they would choose every time.

And it seems as though

all the passing boats think exactly the same.

Of a summer's evening,

this place goes from a peaceful hamlet,

with just a couple of souls pottering about,

to a busy hub with the sounds of laughter filling the air.

And in case you're wondering, the pick in the menu is the goat.

(INDISTINCT CHATTER)

This self-sufficient island

is a great example of what can be achieved

with a little bit of hard work and a whole lot of passion.

This modest family have created a pleasant livelihood,

but also provides an important service to passing bodies.

Best of all,

it's done so in a way that's sustainable.

Although governed by the Dodecanese,

Levitha sits on the boundary of the Cycladic Islands

and the Dodecanese Islands.

It's pretty remote.

And in the middle of pretty much nowhere.

Historians haven't been fair to Levitha.

There's not much written about it.

But, one fact remains, its position in the Aegean.

Levitha has always been in between trading routes and shipping lanes.

As a result,

it's always been an important point

for Navy's and the military in history.

And in the Second World War,

the Germans believed this was such an important point

that they fought hard

against elements of the long-range desert group

that were sent here to try and capture it.

The battle was not a good one.

No one was really a winner at the end of the day.

And five of the Commonwealth troops lost their lives.

Four of them, New Zealanders.

There's actually a plaque here for Douglas Athol Davidson,

laid by his mother many years later.

And it's plaques like this that are important to look at,

and reminisce about people that have lost their lives over the years

on barren bits of island.

Sad.

The far-reaching impacts of the World Wars

not only span vast distances, but great lengths of time.

Generations have been touched.

And the idea

that a soldier from the other side of the world gave his life here,

is a powerful statement

to the global influence these conflicts had.

Unfortunately,

humanity doesn't seem to learn much from the mistakes of the past.

And perhaps, the serenity of the island today

is simply the calm before the next storm.

Only five nautical miles west of Levitha is Kinaros.

Rounding the island,

the geography gives you an overwhelming sense

of a grand and dramatic theatre.

One immediately assumes

that there has to be great mansions and hotels

on what seems a well-polished gem in the middle of the Aegean.

Well, this couldn't be further from the truth.

Here you'll find an abandoned village,

where only two people remain as permanent inhabitants.

It's surreal, to say the least.

But what it lacks in people, it makes up for in natural beauty.

The large inlet provides a safe anchorage to passing yachts,

which is all the more reason

you'd think that someone would've come along

and built a tavern and other infrastructure here.

But it remains lost in time,

hidden from tourists,

and free from the clutches of developers.

Irene and her son, George

have been living between Kinaros and Australia for decades.

Irene's husband has passed away.

And she now chooses to live in Kinaros, permanently.

She has daily chats with the family we met in Levitha,

and that's basically her closest contact to the outside world.

George grew up in Australia,

and moved back here with his parents.

He spends his time maintaining the limited infrastructure

and tending to the gardens.

It's a contrast to life back in Australia...

How are you? ..but without his help,

his mother would probably have had to resettle elsewhere.

Unlike the family on Levitha,

these guys don't have a tavern

and constant flow of visitors to interact with.

Kinaros is totally secluded.

And it's this isolation that appeals to Irene.

When I first started this odyssey,

our research identified 227 inhabited islands.

Over the years,

I've slowly discovered that for various reasons,

this number has been dwindling.

Today, our researchers have refined that number down

to a more accurate figure of 157.

And unfortunately, there's no doubt that islands like Kinaros,

which I've shown as inhabited,

may not be so in years to come.

Remote and solitary islands like this are where, eventually,

the handful of people living on them

give up and move to places where life is a little easier.

So, George, this is the old village, right?

GEORGE: Yeah. How many houses are here?

I think there are four.

Four houses.

So when did people live here last?

In here.

The last person left, I think in 1962.

And then my grandfather was here only...

Yeah. ..and my grandmother.

Wow.

So we're talking almost 60 years ago.

Most abandoned villages look pretty much the same.

Generally, there are some buildings that are recognisable

and others that aren't.

This village seems like it was lived in

only a few decades ago.

And because of this,

there remains a feeling of loss when you walk amongst the ruins.

I could picture people strolling along the paths,

and kids playing in front of the homes,

where once there was so much life and energy.

Today, there's rubble and silence.

The only building in any order is the church.

And Irene comes up here regularly.

Not just because of her religious beliefs,

but in memory of a helicopter crew

that lost their lives on this island.

Three young men that she pays homage to,

as if they were her own.

That's what I wanted to say.

On a tiny, seemingly lost island like this,

Irene feels as though it's easy for people to forget these boys.

However, she said that as long as she lives, she will remember them.

And as long as her legs will carry her,

she'll hike up to the church and light a candle for them.

It's incredible to think that

someone can have so much empathy and love

for people they've never met.

It's a testament to Irene's compassion.

If more people thought this way,

we would live in a far more peaceful and caring world.

In the early hours of 11 February 2016,

Captain Anastasios Toulitsis,

co-pilot, Constantinos Pananas,

and radar operator, Eleftherios Evangelou

were conducting nighttime exercises

in their Bell 212 Hellenic Navy Helicopter.

At 2:45am,

all communication was lost

and their radar signature disappeared.

They'd flown directly

into the mountainous eastern end of Kinaros.

Irene was woken up with a call from the Navy,

telling her that a helicopter was lost in the region.

She had heard a loud explosion,

and immediately set off to locate the crash site,

hoping to do whatever she could to help.

Reaching the site,

she quickly realised that the young men had no hope,

and it would've been over in that brief moment.

It would've been a very confronting experience,

which helps explain her connection to the lost souls.

The wreckage is still there, scattered on the hillside.

The scars of the fire that engulf the helicopter still remain.

Similarly, for Irene,

the memories of that night are vivid and ever-present.

She has never forgotten about the boys that gave their life

protecting her little part of the Aegean.

All islands have their own stories of love, life, loss, war, and peace.

Some will be forgotten,

while others will be etched in the annals of history.

I think it's important that we all do our best

to learn about the places and people we visit.

To embrace their narratives and learn from them.

For me, the lesson to be learned from my time on Kinaros

is the importance of empathy,

and to appreciate every moment you have.

In the next episode,

I'm heading back to Amorgos

to finish up my exploration of the island.

I'll be spending my time getting to know all about the food culture,

as well as showing you a few of her best beaches.

From there, we are cruising across the popular island of Ios,

where you'll see that there's so much more to the place

than the party scene it's famed for.

It has a far greater depth to it

that can only be discovered when you spend time with the locals.

Captioned by Ai-Media ai-media.tv