Europe > Greece > Cyclades (south) > Naxos > Articles > Time on Naxos

The Cyclades spread across the Aegean like God's footsteps. Between creating Asia and Europe, He paused to dabble in the warm waters and left sparkling jewels in His wake. Today, in the absence of divine projection, Olympic Airlines laces most of the islands together. But flying between them squanders Greece's greatest quality: its timelessness.

The sea mist clears and Naxos rises out of dawn's haze. Its white marble cliffs and lush green terraces are etched against a brilliant blue sky. The new Greek island ferry - retired from the Baltic only last year - eases her stern against the pier. The Port Police blow their whistles, directing vehicles off the ship. A car and truck collide anyway.

But above in the hidden gardens of the Kastro, the 14th century fortified Venetian castle above the harbour, there is no rushing or impatience. I'm already there, long before the ferry sails on, drinking sweet breakfast coffee served with milk still warm from the cow. The castle's residents are proud descendants of the original builders, the last vestiges of the great Italian trading empire. Their names - Barozzi and Franchetti - are of the Adriatic, not the Aegean. Their great old houses overflow with rough medieval furniture, threadbare tapestries and religious relics worn smooth by the touch of generations. Timber-beamed ceilings bow with age. The marble door lintels record pre-Renaissance dates. The aroma of freshly baked bread wafts up the labyrinth of whitewashed passageways. With a gold Byzantine spoon, we dip into pots of honey from a dozen different islands. One, the colour of liquid amber, tastes of clover. The second is dark and earthy. The third is thick with honeycomb, rich with citrus, its texture reminiscent of pomegranates. We stir it into great tubs of yoghurt. My friend laughs over breakfast, “I don't have time to peel oranges in London.”

There are no clocks here because on Naxos there is time: time to talk, to eat, to walk.

Inland from Naxos Town is Mount Zeus, the island's highest peak. A donkey path winds up across ancient terraces. The fragrance of wild thyme and rosemary dominates the hills. As we climb the sun grows hotter, the flowers and vegetation grow sparse. The vista unfolds and the sounds of the island drop away. Soon there is no noise but the crunch of our footsteps. The stillness is absolute. At the summit, 1001 metres above sea level, a dozen jewelled islands are laid out before us: Paros, Ios, Delos, Mykonos, even the distant volcanic peaks of Santorini. Between them ply minute, toy-like ferries. In the far distance, at the unbroken horizon, the sea melds indistinguishably with the sky.

Some holiday destinations are all about the present. Others are locked in the past. Then there are those that are ageless, where the ancient and modern co-exist. The beauty of Greece lies in its unique sense of history and time.

• More from Rory MacLean