Greece has a way of surprising you in all seasons. Before we began this journey, we were convinced that wintering here would not be a pleasant experience. That idea had settled in our minds after a holiday in early October, when the most beautiful spot in the Ionian Sea suddenly turned into a deserted and gloomy place. The streets washed away and all we could do was take shelter. That image stayed with us for a long time.

But as we travelled and met others with wonderful winter stories, we decided to spend our second winter in Greece after all. Last year in Portugal and Spain had been great. Of course the temperatures drop there too, down to about twelve to fifteen degrees at their lowest, but we loved it. Feeling the seasons is part of the charm. Making the boat cosy, turning on the heating now and then, and enjoying the way the sun warms everything naturally when it appears.

This year our goal for summer was Greece and we love this country so much that we know we want to spend more time here next year as well. So it felt only natural to stay for the winter too. After some research we found that the area around Poros would be perfect. We did not want to stay in a marina, but we needed enough shelter and a place where we could safely leave the boat over Christmas. Being close to an international airport was essential too, so the south of Athens is ideal.

It turns out we were not the only ones. There are now eight Dutch boats making the same choice and there is plenty of company, which is fantastic. It is also the first time for us that we stay somewhere for a longer stretch and we are discovering the benefits. A place starts to feel a little bit more like home. We blend in more. Philou now joins the local theatre class where she is welcomed with open arms every week. She even goes to the nearby playground on her own, something we would never have imagined back in the Netherlands. There she has already made many new friends and she is now even greeted and welcomed on the street. We go to small local concerts. We create our own routines with walks, shopping and daily life. The local chandlery is very happy with us and we even manage to tackle some boat jobs that have been waiting for attention.

What continues to amaze us is the safety here. It feels almost unreal to live in a place that is genuinely very safe. Crime rates are proven to be extremely low and we are still not sure why. Is it the culture, the small community spirit, or does the Orthodox faith hold a sense of karma that guides behaviour, who knows? Whatever the reason, the result is that Philou can walk small familiar routes on her own and we can leave our dinghy without a lock anywhere without worry. Even the harbour master recently left her purse in full view on a café table. The locals are aware of this unusual level of trust and say that Athens is very different. Living in such a safe environment brings a deep sense of calm. It feels like a gift.

The bay feels as if it belongs to us. All the charter boats have disappeared by now and what remains are liveaboards who live the same way we do. Life is wonderfully simple at the moment. Compared to other parts of Greece the weather has been quite stable these past weeks, even though it may change soon. Still we are not complaining. We enjoy this place, the people and the rhythm of winter here.

Yesterday, mind you on Monday the first of December, we even had a beach barbecue in Russian Bay, sitting in the sun. We start at three in the afternoon because the sun sets earlier now, but after a swim we enjoyed the most beautiful sunset with four boats, good company and lovely food. Moments like these always make me pinch myself. Living with the weather truly has its charms.

And perhaps it is a Dutch thing too. We grew up with colder conditions. The first boats back home go into the water again in March when it still occasionally freezes. So as long as it stays around eighteen degrees here and the sun shows itself now and then, the Dutchies are more than happy. Spring will take its time, but until then we surrender to the gentle rhythm of the winter season.

Sometimes the slowest seasons show you the most.

Written by: Mirjam