G-Mama-D (my mum) should have been born Greek. It’s been her great misfortune in life not to live out her days under breathless skies and swimming in azure oceans. This is now her retirement plan.

Her obsession started in her twenties and as kids Greece was our summer holiday destination of choice. We’d spend two weeks living off fruit and sweet black tea, naked, tanned and free. Later, as we grew older there were visits to Greek ruins, boat trips to bubbling volcanoes, and family bike rides across hot and hazy landscapes dotted with olive trees, our tired legs egged on by the promise of ice cream.

We’d stay in various types of accommodation: beachfront apartments with wide stone balconies and a view of the ocean; houses set in dusty back streets, where we’d emerge from their darkened depths blinking and shy in the stark sunlight. But our favourite was a small cottage in Skiathos. Situated away from the town, the cottage sat nestled between towering pine trees, and across a narrow road lay the glittering ocean. We’d arrive, throw off our shoes, dart across the road and plunge into the warm waters giddy at finally being free of jerseys, cardigans and socks, the uniform of the milder climes of Britain. The closest shops were what felt like a very long walk away. We’d all set off along the shady road, the beach glinting through the pine trees on our right, and to our left the pine forest rising with the hillside. We’d commence the walk in rank and file, three children in a row, walking with purpose. But soon the pace would slow, and as our minds wandered so did our feet. We’d shuffle through the brown pine needles that littered the road, we’d meander down to the sand to feel it’s pulsing heat, or we’d jump between the islands of dappled shade that stretched out before us. This was the intoxicating freedom of childhood, and this is how I remember Greece.

I have often tried to find that cottage, that shady place of childhood splendor. I have trawled the Internet, searched hundreds of holiday home listings, Google-Earthed Skiathos and searched the whole island for pine forests, hoping my aerial advantage would be the key. But each search ends in defeat. I fear our cottage is long gone.

And so Greece is a little bit ruined for me now. The few times I’ve been back as an adult I’ve felt assaulted by modernity, oppressed by the blandness of high rise holiday apartments and jolted by the hordes. It’s unfair, I know, to expect a place not to change, and I suppose shady trees and deserted beaches cannot remain in our globalised world. Over and over I hear the lament that the old Greece is lost, that pre-war, Gerald Durrell Greece is long gone so don’t even try to look for it. It still existed in the ‘80’s but I was realizing that the old Greece had receded with my childhood.

A hidden gem…

But then I found Poros.

Actually, G-Mama-D found Poros. For the past decade she has been exploring Greece a few times a year, shunning the tourist hotspots of Rhodes, Mykonos and the like, and gravitating instead towards Zakynthos and lesser known islands such as Paros, Samos and Patmos. None had quieted her yearning for the old Greece and so the search continued.

She stumbled across Poros purely by chance. I was traveling solo with my boys from Durban to Athens, via Johannesburg and Istanbul, and we needed a place close to Athens that was affordable and easy to get to. The Saronic Gulf Islands seemed the obvious choice, and Poros is just one hour from Athens on the ferry.

Early morning in Poros.

What we found on Poros was Tranquility and Beauty living side by side oblivious to the rantings of their ambitious cousin, Progress. Traditional stone houses hug the hill that rises from the quaint port, narrow cobbled streets wind ever upwards, leading into festive squares with family tavernas and shady oak trees. Pine trees cover the island, and shallow bays provide sheltered mooring for yachts and picturesque beaches where old friends gather, take a cooling swim then share the town’s gossip while the sun dries salty streaks on their bodies. Property here costs a fortune, and for the price of a farmhouse in France with acres of land, you can buy a traditional Greek stone cottage with a terracotta tiled roof, faded wooden shutters, a walled garden and a resident cat. Once restored, you’ll own a piece of history and a true gem because Poros’ cultural heritage laws have kept modernity at bay.

Rent a bicycle or save your legs and jump on a quad bike to explore the island. There are ancient Greek temples, the submerged ruins of an ancient town, hidden tavernas that serve fresh glorious food, and pine trees, so many pine trees. Life is slow, and the modern world is held at bay.

But the secret is almost out, because Poros does become busy during the height of summer. Cruise ships pull in, passengers are disgorged in a human flood that slowly recedes with the sun and by evening they have (thankfully) departed, leaving starry skies, a gentle breeze and the intoxicating scent of jasmine to take up their gentle hum once more. But visit Poros in May or September and you’ll find yourself in a peaceful haven with time to stroll, to think, to write, to breathe. Then Poros becomes the Greece of my childhood, undiscovered and unspoilt, with pine trees and dappled shade and the magic of freedom.

Traditional stone cottages hug the hillside on Poros.

The charming port in Poros is perfect for an evening stroll.

Getting there:

All airlines fly to Athens. Make your way by taxi or bus down to the port of Piraeus, 60 minutes from the airport and 30 from the centre of the city.

Ferries for the Saronic Gulf leave at varying times throughout the year. The Flying Dolphin or Flying Cat takes 1 hour to reach Poros. Check the times and frequency here.

When to go:

Late April and May, or September and October. Avoid the summer crowds if you can.

Where to stay:

Stay in a restored stone cottage in Poros town to experience the real Greece. You’ll walk your legs off as the town is very steep, but you can’t beat the charm and friendliness of the locals. We stayed in a gorgeous restored stone cottage with an inner courtyard and stunning sea views. Find it here.

Otherwise head to one of the beach resorts outside of the town in Askeli, Kanali or Neorio. The resorts are small, no glitzy hotel chains, and are easier on the pocket than staying in town, but you’ll lose the charm of staying in Poros itself. Booking.com has the best list of options.

Where to eat:

Taverna Poseidon on the waterfront is the place to be seen. It’s best known for excellent seafood. For something more chilled stroll along the promenade with the sea on your right and try out the numerous restaurants at the quieter end of town.

Our favourite was Taverna Garden, on a small garden terrace overlooking the rooftops of Poros, it’s famous for Moussaka and excellent house wine.