Delos

Delos is the mythic birthplace of Apollo, and you feel the sacredness the moment the ferry cuts its engine and you step onto the marble quay. The island is uninhabited now — a law passed in ancient times that no one could be born or die here is still observed, and the archaeologists and the caretakers leave each evening — and it is completely covered in ruins. It is the largest archaeological site in Greece, an entire city laid out in marble and left to the sea wind. The sacred way runs from the harbour, past the remains of the sanctuary, to the Terrace of the Lions — a row of marble lions, some headless, some eroded to soft white shapes by two and a half thousand winters, still standing guard exactly where they were placed in the 7th century BC. On the slopes of Mount Kynthos, the temples and the houses of the wealthy spread out in a grid of streets: the mosaics are still there, intact under the sun, dolphins and sea creatures in millions of tesserae. Delos was not just a sanctuary — it was the greatest trading port of the ancient Aegean, a free port where, in its Roman heyday, a hundred thousand people are said to have lived and traded, a place of bankers, merchants, and slaves. Walking through the silent streets, past the houses with their courtyards and their frescoes, brings up the strangest of responses: the island is empty of people, but not of presence. It is full of ghosts.

Delos occupies a special place in Greek mythology: it was here that Leto, fleeing the jealous Hera, gave birth to the twins Apollo and Artemis, and the island — which, in a tradition Ovid preserves from a Lydian peasant, had once drifted like foam — was anchored to the earth by four golden chains and bathed in light. The sacred island became the religious centre of the Cyclades, and from the 8th century BC the sanctuary of Apollo grew into one of the greatest of the Greek world. The Delian League, the alliance founded by Athens in 478 BC after the Persian Wars, kept its treasury on Delos until Pericles moved it to Athens in 454 BC — a telling sign of the island's power. In 426 BC, Athens 'purified' the island by removing all tombs and ordering that no one could be born or die there, a rule that is still observed today. Delos reached its apogee after 166 BC, when Rome made it a free port; within a few decades it became the greatest emporium of the Mediterranean, a cosmopolitan city of merchants, slaves, and bankers, whose population was said to exceed a hundred thousand. The wealth of this era built the grand houses whose mosaics and frescoes survive. The city was sacked in 88 BC by the forces of Mithridates, and again in 69 BC by pirates, and never recovered; the trade moved away and the island was gradually abandoned. By the 6th century AD it was virtually deserted. The excavations, begun by the French School at Athens in 1873 and continuing to this day, have uncovered an extraordinary city, making Delos the largest and richest archaeological site in Greece and a UNESCO World Heritage Site since 1990.

The name is recorded by Stephanus of Byzantium in the sixth century AD. His Ethnica is not a book of stories but a dictionary of Greek place-names, and for this one it says: "Or because of its oracles: for it made hard-to-find things plain". "It was also called Kynthos, after Kynthos son of Ocean". (Ethnica, s.v. Δῆλος).

That is the whole of what an ancient source has to say about how the place got its name. It is a shorter answer than the guidebooks give, and it is the only one with a source behind it.

Delos is reached by ferry from Mykonos, and while there is no village on the island, the cuisine of nearby Mykonos is the Cycladic kitchen at its best. The island has a handful of simple kiosks serving the essentials — but the real eating happens before and after, in Mykonos Town. The Cyclades are famous for their cheeses (kopanisti, the spicy aged cheese of Mykonos; the creamy xynotyri), their honey, and their seafood: octopus grilled with olive oil and oregano, lobsters, and the tiny whitebait that the islanders fry whole. The local almond sweets, amygdalota, and the honey-drenched loukoumades are the classic finishes. The port tavernas of Mykonos — Little Venice, Alefkandra — serve all of it with the sunset behind them. Bring a packed lunch for the island itself; there is nowhere to sit down for a proper meal, which is part of Delos' strange, sacred emptiness.

Delos is at its best in spring and autumn (April to June, September to October), when the light is clear, the island is green, and the fierce summer crowds have not arrived. In summer the island is hot, exposed, and wind-battered — the meltemi blows hard across the open sea, and there is no shade; bring a hat, water, and sunblock. The site closes to visitors in the late afternoon, so plan a full day. Winter boats are infrequent, and the island is often closed in rough seas — but a winter visit, alone on the marble streets with the wind, is one of the most atmospheric experiences in the Aegean.

Delos is reached only by sea, on the ferry from Mykonos, and the earliest sailing out and the last one back is what gives the island a full day. The boat drops you at the ancient quay, from where the walk to the Terrace of the Lions takes about fifteen minutes.

Take the earliest ferry from Mykonos and the last one back, and give the island the whole day — it is enormous, and the best of it (Mount Kynthos, the houses on the slopes) requires a proper climb. A guide or audio guide transforms the experience; the island is a maze of unlabelled ruins without interpretation. Wear sturdy shoes and bring a litre of water per person — there is minimal shade and the walking is constant. Do not skip Mount Kynthos — the view from the top, over the whole island and the sea to Mykonos, Naxos, and Paros, is the best in the Cyclades. The rule that no one is born or dies here is still enforced — it makes Delos feel like a place that belongs to the dead and the gods, not the living. And one more thing: at the Terrace of the Lions, stand at the far end and look back along the row. Five thousand years of wind have worn their faces smooth, and still they guard the sanctuary, facing east, where the sun rises. They have been waiting since the 7th century BC.