Postcard from Greece: snow in Syros

It has been snowing in the Cyclades, a group of islands usually thought of in the context of sun-drenched summer holidays. In late January the entire archipelago got covered.

Snow on Syros, the most populous island and my home since 2017, means one thing for the locals: packing their excited families into cars and driving up to the nature reserve in the north of the island, preferably before the police can get there and close off the only road. The Apano Meria region has comparatively high altitudes, and being the northernmost point, also gets the most snow.

Happy children build snowmen and have snowball fights, dogs roll ecstatic around them. The parents can sit back and enjoy the spectacle from the warmth of their cars with flasks of hot chocolate or krasomelo (a type of mulled wine with honey and spices). The scenery is beautiful: hills, valleys and snow-covered terraces as far as the eye can see. Here and there, grape vines and olive trees stick out from the white expanse in regular patterns. Tinos, our neighbouring island with mountains twice the size of ours, glows in the distance like some marine mirage of the Alps.

The Cycladic islands are not known for white winters but it is not unheard of that Mykonos, Santorini et al spend a few days under the cover of snow. Syros locals say it happens every five to 10 years; the last time was in 2015. Still, this is rare enough though for social media to fill with photos of snow-covered streets and church domes, of rulers showing the exact depth of the snow, of pawprints and footprints and people venturing outside wearing their entire wardrobes.

Rare enough also for these islands to be unprepared in terms of snow-clearing equipment and general infrastructure: Cycladic authorities have announced “mandatory holidays” for almost everyone except pharmacies and supermarkets; public transport has been intermittent these days. There are only a few inches of snow, but the advice to stay at home makes sense on Syros. Most locals get around on scooters, and the island’s slippery marble roads are a hazard even in rain.

Authorities have announced ‘mandatory holidays’ for almost everyone except pharmacies and supermarkets; public transport has been intermittent

Road-clearing efforts are concentrated around vital spots (the hospital, the port) but have also tried to cover the countryside, where farmers often need help reaching their hungry, frozen livestock. The fire department is on standby and spends a few days mostly as a hospital auxiliary, making sure that emergency cases or people in need of dialysis can safely get medical attention.

One problem we don’t have is electricity: until a few years ago the island relied on a local power station, and blackouts were common in extreme weather conditions, but nowadays electricity is supplied via an underwater cable from the mainland. The only potential challenge is if some part of the infrastructure on a snow-covered hill needs maintenance; indeed, electricians braving the snowstorm and climbing up poles to attend to power lines is another frequently shared image.

There has also been an outpouring of solidarity, of people thinking of those less fortunate. Local pharmacies are collecting blankets, warm clothes and electric heaters for anyone in need, and they are doing so sensitively, ensuring that these supplies can be delivered or picked up anonymously (reputation is everything in small communities, in particular for the older generations).

People are encouraged to try and remember if they know anyone who might be living alone and be in need of help. Yet others are advising their neighbours about how to care for the island’s many stray cats, instructing them to improvise small snow shelters or to allow the animals to take refuge in basements and sheds, and to put out more food than usual. Every winter is a tough winter for the strays, since most of the beach restaurants that they rely on for food are closed. It’s a lean few months; they really could do without the snow.

On Syros we don’t have winter tyres and most of us have very limited experience of driving in icy conditions. In snow years, people can panic on the way down from their frolicking in Apano Meria. The road has a sheer drop of a few hundred metres on one side, and any sign of the car sliding can be quite scary. So they park their cars in the middle of the road, leaving the fire brigade to step in and drive everyone home. For Syros kids, it’s a once in a childhood day out: the snowman, the snowball fight and the happy ride down a mountain in a fire truck.

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