The places that call to me most are often desolate and remote. They are steeped in authenticity and are blissfully quiet. It’s one of the reasons I chose to go to the Greek island of Sifnos before the start of the summer rush. I had just arrived by ferry from Paros island the prior night and was wide awake for the 6.1 earthquake that happened during the very early morning. Needless to say, my slightly shaken nervous system was craving a peaceful respite.

In the little pre-research I did about this island, I understood clearly that Chrissopigi, an ancient church and monastery was a must see destination. I saw a few photos and knew it was built on a rock, but didn’t know much more.  While considering my visit, the Tsunami warnings began to emerge. Hmmm, does it make sense to head to the edge of the ocean when a potential tsunami was imminent?  Wouldn’t it be wiser to head to higher ground? The rebel in me made an executive decision to ignore the warnings.

Originally, I thought I would hike all over the island to see the sights as Sifnos is abundant with trails and famous for its hiking. But when the sun is out, you must be done with your hike by 9 am or else you are in for torture. Not only is it hot but there is little shade to escape to when there are no trees. Even when the temperature isn’t scorching, the sun’s penetrating rays seem to go in deeper here. It’s why the islanders take a long siesta and shutter in during a good portion of the day from about 12 or 1 until about 4 or 5. And then the great unfurling happens from dusk on. Dinner, potentially a multi-hour event, is not often until 8:30 or 9 pm. It is possible to hike as the sun fades of course, but I imagine some of these sights are not accessible that late in the day.

And so the car it is, a last minute decision to rent was a good one, plus with a car, if I needed to get to higher ground in a hurry, I could easily do so. Chrissopigi’s location was close to where I was staying on the island and the perfect destination as a refresher course in driving stick. After I punched in the clutch to start the thumbprint sized Fiat, I had a bit of a “to be expected” jerky initiation back into driving a manual and let out a carefree giggle as I zipped up the steep hill. I climbed above the small beach town where I was staying named Platys Gialos which simply means flat beach. The view was breathtaking looking down into the glistening bay below. I become transfixed when the sun’s reflection on the water from a birds-eve view forms diamonds sparkling on the water. There was no spot to pull over and take it in, otherwise I would have as this is the joy of journeying without a schedule, stopping along the way. This type of slow travel certainly appeals.

I was gaining a bit more grace with the gears and after rounding the bend, more inspiring views beckoned. And there she was, Chrissopigi. Panagia Chrissopigi to be exact, aka, Our lady of the Golden Spring. Panagia in Greek refers to Mary, Mother of God. I wrongly assumed this word has the same meaning as Panagea which symbolizes the supercontinent landmass of earth before it all broke apart into separate continents. My curiosity piqued. I had so many questions. But for now, I would wait to read and learn and immerse in the experience with child-like wonder. I stopped again along a small outcropping from the cliff’s edge of the road to take her in and snap a few photos from above. My fear of heights kicked in but didn’t stop me, even with the power lines in the foreground I still let out a gasp. Glorious. I scanned each angle from above as I descended the steep hill nearing the path leading to the church island.

I thought I might have gotten my fill of churches after seeing countless ones in Paros, the prior stop during my week in Greece. But as I loomed over Chrissopgi, I understood why this one was a must see.  Many people are familiar with the iconic Greek Orthodox domed churches that are scattered across the Cycladic Islands especially some of the famous ones such as Santorini and Mykonos. In Naoussa, Paros, while walking through the maze of narrow streets, if you look up, as sometimes they are hidden and hard to spot, it seems as if there is a church around every corner. It wasn’t hard to be enchanted by each sweet wedding cake looking one of them. Outside they are often architecturally minimalist and inside they are cavelike and intimate, filled with candles, flowers, and paintings- almost like mini-museums.  While in Paros, I snapped more than a fair share of photos at different angles capturing the play of shadow and light on the whitewashed curves at mid-day, sunset and sunrise.

I continued to get closer and after parking and grabbing a wrap for my shoulders, I walked through the low gate and noticed two elder Greek women sitting in the monastery kitchen, I had the urge to chit chat with them even though I knew that was impossible as I didn’t speak Greek. But I smiled and nodded as I walked by, making eye contact. As I always do when I travel, I have a strong pull to get to know the older generation of the local people and swim in the history. Even though I wasn’t able to strike up conversation, the glimpse of these women lit a spark.

The structural entrance of Chrissopigi is inviting and simple but certainly regal in her stature, decorated with waves, rosettes and seemingly Venetian architectural influences. Freshly whitewashed and innocent in her purity, with a long narrow stairway gently gliding upwards across the rocks, my gaze naturally lifted skyward. And outside the location where Chrissopigi was built, a feat back in the day, was breathtaking. The rock formations that curved down to the crystal clear sea unfolded into layers. A sight to behold. I couldn’t wait to explore. 

When I walked inside of the church what first caught my eye first was a woman wrapped in a yellow Sari, hands folded at her forehead, praying to the Virgin Mary. She noticed me and said in a friendly way, “In India, we take off our shoes when we come inside.” I nodded and in respect, removed my shoes. She then continued to pray and I asked her if she wouldn’t mind if I took a photo and she agreed. She asked the caretaker of the church if it was necessary to remove one’s shoes. He said with a warm smile and gentle tone, “in Greece people do as they please, and no, it is not necessary to remove your shoes.” She proceeded to share with him as she did with me, “in India we always do…”

And then I had a moment to take in Chrissopigi’s interior- the icons, the art, the beauty. It’s not religious to me per se, but sacred.  The history, imagery, creativity, colors, gilded edges, decorative details and even a dark sadness that comes across on some of the facial expressions in the depictions, all mashed up together. It’s unique and special. In Greece, “Icons are central to Orthodox worship are seen as windows to heaven allowing believers to connect to the spiritual realm. They are not merely paintings, they are liturgical objects used for prayer and veneration. The use of rich colors and intricate designs in Orthodox churches create a visually stimulating and uplifting atmosphere. The overall design reflects the belief that God’s beauty is expressed through creation.”

Nature melded with history and reverence in one blindingly beautiful location. I walked out to the point of the cape and as I always do in wild places, took off my shoes to absorb the experience even further. I live for these moments: when I can feel that my soul is completely and utterly unburdened by others, when there are no eyes watching, no one around. It’s a feeling that allows me to surrender and truly immerse in the elemental parts of the raw earth to the point where it penetrates deeply into my being. And that is when I began to cry. Tears of release, of ecstasy, of awe. No shrill human voices, no perpetual humming of civilization, no zipping of cars, not one siren (Rome, I’m looking at you), no music, nothing to disturb or distract. Zero. Just the sound of the sea. And natures hum. No face to show or persona to fabricate, in this moment it was just me and the vast vast insanely blue sea before me and the sky and the rocks. Chrissopigi was this for me, a haven of silence. The religious significance was the stillness that overcame me and I was touched deeply.

And then I learned the history of Chrissopigi: a significant landmark and pilgrimage site not only for people of this island but for all Orthodox Greeks. Considered the protector of the Island of Sifnos. Established in 1650, the church houses a sacred icon of the Virgin Mary believed to have healing powers. Legends abound and during a pirate raid, legend states that the Virgin Mary broke off the rock to stop the greedy pirates from reaching a nun trapped in a cell. And sure enough there is a cut through the rock that splits the “island” in two.  Maybe deep down I felt the connection to my name here, Mary and the legend before I even knew the story, the symbolism, the meaning.

I sat down and touched the smooth shelf like sloping metamorphic volcanic rocks with their round holes and shimmery mica glistening in the sun. I wanted to linger with the enchanting rocks but I was eager to dip in the turquoise Aegean surrounding me. As I descended down the rocks before landing at the waters edge, I noticed a man with a white beard about to enter the water and then abruptly back out. His facial expression was fearful. I wondered what was happening and then was reminded by him about the tsunami warnings. Oh right, I almost forgot as I was distracted by this whole experience. As I got closer I could see the rising turbulence in the waves and I hesitated as did the others close by. Should I wait it out or scramble up the rocks and make my way up the hill? Before I had a minute to think, the water calmed and out of the literal blue, it became completely still. A gift. I took the opportunity to lower myself in, and along with an Israeli couple and the man with the white beard and his wife, from New Zealand and then minutes later another man from France, we all immersed in the alluring and sacred waters. As we sat on the sloping rocks to dry off and take in the sun, there was mention of lifted tsunami warnings and a collective sigh of relief. The topic of conversation then turned to the awe we were all experiencing here in this very moment. Mission accomplished: A sublime moment in Chrissopigi’s embrace was certainly soothing to the nervous system. A protector with healing powers indeed.