“I’ll meet you here at 8.30, after sun goes down,” says Spiros, our taxi driver, as he drops us by a dirt track overlooking the most impossibly beautiful bay. Below, the white sands and turquoise waters of Petani Beach glisten in the lunchtime heat, the perfect first glimpse of one of Kefalonia’s most celebrated beaches.
First view of Petani bay
We had arrived on the island the previous night and checked into the Aenos Hotel in the heart of Argostoli, Kefalonia’s pretty little capital. From our balcony we gazed down onto the main square below, alive with diners and drinkers watching the world go by. Without bothering to unpack we were soon down amongst them, eating delicious salads at Melograno and drinking cocktails, the balmy Mediterranean evening relaxing us straight into holiday mode.
Our love for Greece had been cemented two years previously, during the height of the pandemic, when we randomly jumped on a plane to Athens with little more than 24 hours notice and spent a blissful month escaping the combined horrors of Boris Johnson, another lockdown and torrential autumn rain in the beautiful seaside resort of Vougliameni. We had visited a few Grecian islands in the past, and fallen under their spell, but that refuge from Britain and the warm welcome from the Greeks had meant that when the opportunity for another visit arose we had grabbed it with both hands.
Before us stretched a week exploring Kefalonia, which had long been on my list to visit, followed by a week of zen tranquility on neighbouring Zakynthos where we would join a yoga retreat. And our first morning’s exploration had come up trumps.
The view at Petani
The receptionist at The Aenos, upon learning that we were taking the 30 minute ferry across the straits to the town of Lixouri, told us we really should visit Petani Beach for a swim and the sunset. So after a gentle crossing, passing the circular temple-like St Theodora’s lighthouse and a stroll around Lixouri, we found Spiros who sped us across the peninsula to bathe in the warm waters of the Ionian Sea and lie indolently on loungers under a parasol in front of Efemia restaurant, whose waitress Alexandra now serves us drinks and food as we listen to the lapping waves and soak up the rays.
With the sun starting its inexorable descent toward the horizon, and its golden rays starting to set the beach aglow, we decide to retire to the second restaurant on the beach, for a dinner of stuffed tomatoes and Greek dips with a bottle of Róbala, Kefalonian wine, and a front-row seat for sunset. And as night falls, the ferry back to Argostoli slips us past twinkling lights into port.
Drinking in the sunset
The next morning, a 45 minute walk takes us through Lassi to Makris Gialos beach, a spectacular stretch of golden sand and crystal clear waters. Lassi is obviously the place for sun-worshipping holidaymakers to base themselves, with its strip of restaurants and bars, package accommodation and car rental places, and the beach is rammed with families spread out under colourful umbrellas and loungers. In the water float a few pedallos and inflatables, while the odd jet ski chops the blue waves and every now and again an occasional plane roars skywards, with the airport just a couple of kilometres away.
We venture to the southern end of the beach where palm-fronded parasols shade comfortable day-beds and a large tiki-style bar is nestled into the trees. At more than three times the price of yesterday’s lounger-hire it’s definitely the more upmarket choice, and that fact is unwittingly reflected in its name; Costa Costa. Thankfully a stop at a local supermarket on the way means our cool bag is full of drinks which are a quarter of Costa Costa’s prices, so we surreptitiously refill our glasses whenever the staff wander off, slapping on the factor 50 and drifting gently through the afternoon.
Costa Costa at Makris Gialos
As the sun once more starts to set, we climb up to a little bar and toast its final rays with a margarita. And then back on the main road, with not a taxi in sight, we chance upon a restaurant called Zorba which promises Greek fire dancing on a Monday night and a half litre of local wine for just €5. How can we resist?
Sadly as we order ‘gemista’ - stuffed peppers & tomatoes - and aubergine linguine, we learn that Covid has put paid to the Greek dancing. But the wine still flows freely, the owner assures us that his father had indeed appeared in ‘Zorba The Greek’ and they are playing the Mamma Mia soundtrack, so the night is saved.
Especially as at the next table are three loud and chunky Glaswegian couples whose garrulous, yet progressively drunken, wives have seemingly all been to Clare Balding’s hairdresser while the jocular husbands become more unintelligible with every glass, so entertainment - of sorts - is provided nevertheless.
