Past, Present and Future in Agios Nikolaos

Seeing in my Cretan New Year with Coffee

As I’m not back in Greece after Christmas for another week, I’ve been revisiting my notebooks for this first post of the year. My last New Year reflections in Agios Nikolaos sang out to me… Happy New Year!

I love the ritual of ordering and drinking a Greek coffee - the anticipation of its arrival at my kafeneio or café table - seeing the bubbles of umber foam shift on the dark surface inside the tiny cup - the aroma that is different to coffee anywhere else in the world, dark-roasted and slightly burnt, the taste, earthy - and because I like my coffee ‘skerto’(unsweetened) - sharp and pleasantly bitter. The first coffee of the day is a shot of necessary caffeine, a time to set intentions, to re-fire my brain ready to dive into work. Later in the day the ritual of drinking a coffee, for me, is either relaxation, thinking time, or most often, a fusion of the two...

In Agios Nikolaos my chosen coffee house, Asteria, has tables directly on the pavement, facing out onto the road and the harbour, where the taste of the coffee is augmented by the tang of seasalt in the air. It’s an excellent place for people-watching too, one of my favourite entertainments. In the silver-blue early evenings of winter, this is where the town residents make their ‘voltes’ (promenades) against a backdrop of lights threaded around the bay, while motorcycle delivery boys rattle in and out the traffic flowing across the bridge between Voulismeni Lake and the sea.

In January, the view from my table here is often glowing and dramatic - low cloud scudding along the horizon behind the tourist boats tied up at the harbour wall. But if I had been here a few days ago at Epiphany, I wouldn’t have been able to get anywhere near my favourite spot, because of the crowds. The quayside in front of me was the place chosen for the annual January 6^th blessing of the waters – an event that marks the end of the Christmas festivities, and offers an opportunity for one lucky swimmer to retrieve a wooden cross thrown into the chilly sea by a priest, ensuring good health and prosperity for the year¹.

In a few weeks more, it will be Apokries – Carnival - which begins ten weeks before Easter with fancy dress parades and parties – followed swiftly by the biggest festival in the Greek calendar, Easter. Here, in Agios Nikolaos, that means huge crowds gathering around Lake Voulismeni on ‘Big Saturday’ to watch a stuffed effigy of Judas being burned on a raft, while Easter candles, fireworks and firecrackers split the sky. It’s an event, fizzling with colour and cordite, that always makes me feel sympathy for Judas - in a way that the burning of Guy Fawkes on Bonfire Night in the UK does not!

Today, after the million-miles-an-hour bustle of Christmas and New Year, settling down with my coffee and a notebook feels like respite, even like meditation - and with the first sip, I can feel my shoulders lose a little of their laptop-posture hunch. I’m enjoying the act of watching – noticing the thinner air – listening to the traffic-engine beat of the town. In summer, the heat makes things very different - the air as thick and luxuriant as velvet - the heartbeat of the town increased by the music pulsing from Alexandros rooftop bar, its giant LED display radiating the temperature out into the night sky in big red numbers. The birds skirmishing in the tree above ‘Twins’ terrace always catch the attention of the teenage tourists and glitzy grannies, all squeaking by in trainers on the marbled pavements. Across the road, the bulbs underneath the Asteria’s parasols turn each table into a little pocket of light – a puppet theatre, where people bend their heads together over cocktails and ice cream, while the latest town-sized cruise ship steams out into Mirabello Bay, crossing the night to reach Santorini by morning.

In January, the clientele at this café are older travellers and residents - and of the faces I see regularly, most live a short walk away - the French couple who bring their rescue dog, the retired engineer from the hospital, drinking his single coffee in two short gulps. The soundtrack changes for us too - Abba and Wham from Alexandros giving way to something more soulful in a passing car - Haris Alexiou’s ‘Ola se thimizoun’ - everything reminds me of you - pouring out into the night, her deep voice thrumming with knowledge and pain².

The song fades as I reach the muddy residue of coffee grounds at the bottom of my cup - and on an impulse, I flip it over, place it down on my saucer, and close my eyes to make a wish.

As I pay the bill and walk away, I think about my fortune for the New Year forming in grainy patterns beneath the cup - as full of promise for good luck as a wooden cross emerging from the sea in the hand of a blessed diver.

All photographs used in Claire In Crete are copyright of the author, unless otherwise indicated.

If you enjoyed Claire in Crete, you may also like my short story, Ann Hilder - a mystery inspired by the work of the artist LS Lowry and his shadowy muse. Ann Hilder is available as a paperback and ebook on Amazon at https://amzn.eu/d/bMidwmh

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1. This link to Fonien News captures the blessing of the waters on January 6th 2025. The moment of the cross being thrown into the water is at 12:26

2. Ola Se Thimazoun - Haris Alexiou - I defy you to listen to this song and not have it echo in your head afterwards. The sentiment is like a tragic Greek version of ‘Nothing Compares 2 U’… “Everything reminds me of you - Simple, beloved. Everything you left behind seems to be waiting for you to come back, even if that day never dawns. All our love fills the room, like a song we used to sing….”