How this quiet Greek island made our first empty-nest holiday a truly romantic getaway
The first empty-nester holiday is a rite of passage for any couple, and after a year of grief and exhaustion, an escape to Paxos was exactly what Victoria Harper and her husband needed. Here she explains how – between the olive trees and turquoise sea – they found their way back to the couple they had been when they first met
God, that sounds like a nightmare!” was my friend’s unexpected response when I told her I was going to Paxos with my husband for our first empty-nester holiday. Her issue wasn’t the dreamy Ionian Greek island itself, nor the boutique, adult-only Purple Apricot hotel we’d booked (“sounds amazing”), but more: “Just the two of you? What will you talk about?”
Granted, the first empty-nester holiday is a moment – a rite of passage for any couple. But not having anything to talk about was the least of my worries. My husband thought we were going on a nice summer holiday. I, meanwhile, was packing The List.
Not a literal one (though there were many of those), but the unspoken inventory of everything we hadn’t yet processed: a year of grief after losing my lovely dad, and his youngest sister to cancer; A-level stress with our 18-year old; knee surgery (him); emotional and physical exhaustion (me). We needed this quiet and calm among the olive groves more than ever. I was banking on Paxos being the raft to find our way back to each other from our own private islands of loss.
I didn’t mind the 7am Gatwick flight and was even looking forward to the colour-drenched ferry from Corfu, which felt like just the thing to decompress and set the mood for the slowness of island life. The hydrofoil normally takes an hour and forty minutes in good conditions, but when we arrived the weather had opinions. The choppy Ionian current meant our crossing would take closer to three hours instead.
As the sun beat down, the waves grew bigger, and our boat heaved through the water. Too dangerous to sit on deck, we gripped our seats below as the vessel tilted and slammed; the Catholics among us crossed themselves and small children threw up in the bin. Sun hat off to the woman in cargo trousers who somehow kept her cool and got ahead on her holiday reading – clearly someone who’d seen it all before and packed her sea legs.
By the time we reached Paxos, battered but upright, everything softened. Lionel from the Purple Apricot met us, car keys in hand and within ten minutes, we’d arrived at our beautiful boutique hideaway and suddenly life shrank to island proportions. Seven miles end to end. Nowhere more than fifteen minutes drive away. One tank of petrol would do for the entire holiday.
The Purple Apricot is a cool, seven suite boho-chic hotel that is more charming than showy. Nestled among olive groves a five or so minute drive from Gaios harbour, each room is individually curated. Ours, dubbed Purple Rain, had a glorious balcony overlooking the sea, a compact bathroom, and no bath – water is precious on Paxos; luxury takes other forms.
We arrived at the meet-and-greet drinks around the pool with some of the other guests: four other couples, mostly empty-nesters, second-time-around honeymooners, and early-retired Gen-Xers. Half the guests had already been there a week, so island tips were swapped like contraband. I was especially interested in their explanations for sore heads, involving an unexpected DJ party at a restaurant just up the hill. Paxos, we would learn, is an island full of surprises.
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That first night, we walked down the hill to a local taverna (less than 10 mins), sat on the terrace, and ordered carpaccio, sea bass, dips, and feta pie with honey. As is often the case on the first-night, we ordered too eagerly and didn’t quite get it right, but it didn’t matter. The point was sitting there, across from each other, finally able to stop and just breathe out. Suddenly, all the things we needed to talk about didn’t feel so urgent. Soothed by the bluey green calm of the Mediterranean landscape and serenaded by the chirrup of the crickets, our bodies gave in to the deep rest they’d been yearning for.
Mornings became sacred. Breakfast was taken under the olive trees – Paxos’s true economy – with tables for two spaced just far enough apart to offer a friendly wave to other guests but not demand conversation. Our hosts, Aline and Lionel, prepared a simple menu: an egg of the day (never not perfectly executed) fresh Greek yoghurt (hello, good gut health!), granola, nuts, honey, lemon curd, and fruit salad. It felt quietly ceremonial.
Being in the middle of the island meant we needed a car, but I didn’t mind. Paxos is so small and peaceful you can zip around it in minutes, and sometimes the only passing traffic is a too-hot cat in search of some shade. Days blurred into beaches and lazy lunches, expertly guided by our hosts who were on hand to make suggestions and reservations. We hit the ground gently meandering.
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Levrechio beach became an instant favourite. Tiny and tucked away, most beaches here are rocky (pack beach shoes!), but it was utter bliss. We’d arrive early to claim our spot under the olive grove, go for our first swim of the day and then pad down the dusty path to the taverna on neighbouring Marmari beach for lunch: calamari, Greek salad, and a grilled sea bream for two, plus chilled local wine. Paxos may be rustic, but please know that it attracts a chic, linen-clad crowd; groups of friends in hired villas ordering endless bottles of rosé while their mop-haired children roam freely in the Ionian shallows.
It’s also a celebrity favourite, with everyone from Nicole Kidman to Tom Hanks and Angelina Jolie having been spotted here. Last year, visitors included Morgan Freeman and Demi Moore apparently, and Katherine Parkinson from The IT Crowd was on our plane, fooling nobody under her sun hat. I also spotted a very smiley Paloma Faith, who looked as delighted as we were to discover Marmari beach.
Afternoons were for siestas, evenings for exploring. Gaios, our nearest harbour village, was as charming as a postcard. We ate seafood orzo and prawn linguine while a lone guitarist serenaded a small gathered crowd. We checked out the tourist wares in the alleyway’s shops to the sing song of children playing tag on a balmy night, all up way past their bedtime. One of our most magical evenings was spent in Loggos - a small port village where expensive yachts dock for their guests to feast at small tables in stone restaurants festooned by fairy lights. Absolutely magical.
Another standout for us was Averto, a five minute drive from the Purple Apricot. From the outside it looks like a traditional roadside taverna. Inside – wow. It opens onto a stunning terrace overlooking the island’s interior. Sundowners at the cocktail bar led to lamb for two that was clearly meant for four, but we still managed to devour every bit of its buttery and garlicky deliciousness under the stars. Suddenly it felt like our next chapter was going to be okay.
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But as in life, not everything went to plan. On the way to Lakka, we took a few wrong turns and missed the lunch service and settled instead for gyros and chips, but were happily unbothered. The still choppy currents cancelled a boat trip to neighbouring Antipaxos, so armed with a parasol and cool box from the hotel, we pivoted to Kipos beach, swimming and snorkelling before lunching on bakery spoils of feta and spinach pies. When we finally did get a boat on the water (€150 plus petrol), we spent a glorious day exploring blue caves and dipping into secret harbours only accessible by boat.
Returning to harbour, the owner (a sun-kissed young Jude Law-a-like) told us rumours were swirling that Prince William and Kate were in the area, having already been spotted sailing just off Ithaca. Jeff Bezos, he told us, had stopped by Paxos the year before. But the island remains oddly unfussed by its famous guests. It knows its real crown jewels are olive-clad hills, long lazy lunches, and getting nowhere fast.
For a last romantic dinner, we headed to Erimitus, a restaurant perched high in the hills with a sunset facing terrace overlooking the sea. We booked on day one for our penultimate night and from our front-row seat we feasted on crab salad, sea bream and perfectly made chilli margaritas. Later, a DJ arrived, a crowd of coot cat locals mixed with tourists, and danced like everyone was watching.
It was the perfect almost-end to the kind of holiday you hanker after if you are looking for the day-time dreamscape of Mama Mia, with a side order of a burst of joy.
Sitting on our beautiful balcony on our last night, we raised a glass to those we’d lost this year and how we’d managed to stay the course no-matter how choppy the waters got. The 6am wake-up and usual airport drag tried to undo the spell, but the magic of Paxos held. This beautiful island gave us the space to remember who we were as a couple – and to realise that there are many warm seas left to swim in and conversations to be had.
Victoria travelled to Paxos as a guest of Simpson Travel.
How to do it
A week staying in the adult-only Purple Apricot Hotel with specialist villa and boutique hotel operator Simpson Travel (simpsontravel.com 020 3031 6624) costs from £986 per person based on two sharing, including flights, transfers from Corfu Airport to Paxos port, car hire, seven nights b&b accommodation, pre-departure and overseas concierge services.
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