Antiparos – a Slow Day at Psaraliki Beach and a Night at the Mysterious Boat Festival

Antiparos, just a short hop from Paros, is one of those islands that doesn’t need to try too hard. With sandy beaches, calm waters and a harbour that comes to life in the evenings, it’s made for slow days. This was our first full day, spent at Psaraliki Beach and ending with an unexpected festival by the sea.

We woke at 9 am after just six hours’ sleep, relieved to finally be on the small Cycladic island of Antiparos. Despite the lack of rest, the urge to explore won easily.

After a quick shower, we stepped out onto the little terrace at Villa Harmonia. It was one of those simple spaces that instantly feels like summer. Pimms and lemonade tonight, I thought.

We walked back towards the main street, the village still quiet and unhurried. One of the first places we came across was Café Babel, a small, family-run spot where the woman who took our order was also tending to a baby. Within minutes, an older lady appeared in the kitchen, and breakfast arrived almost as quickly.

Fried eggs, bacon, toasted bread and tea. Simple, but the eggs were as close to perfect as I’ve ever had.

With no real plan for the day, I suggested we head to Psaraliki Beach, one of the most well-known beaches in Antiparos and somewhere I remembered vividly. Although it’s only a short walk from the centre, we took a longer route through the village before joining the main road.

The beach was exactly as I remembered it. A curved stretch of sand and small stones wrapped around a sheltered bay, shaded by tamarisk trees. Across the narrow strait, Paros sat quietly on the horizon, protecting the bay and helping to keep the water warm and calm.

It felt like a day that wasn’t going to rush.

We laid our towels beneath the trees, the dappled shade offering relief from the heat. The branches shifted gently in the breeze, the sound of the sea blending with the steady rhythm of cicadas.

Time slipped by in that familiar way it does on a Greek beach. We drifted between sleep and the sea, taking occasional swims in the clear, shallow water. At one point, we made our way across to the rocks at the far end of the bay. Peter snorkelled while I climbed over the rocks, watching small green crabs dart in and out of hiding.

By late afternoon, around 5 pm, we made our way back towards the port, passing the old windmill and the blue-domed church that anchors the harbour. Very recognisable landmarks of the island.

Not wanting a repeat of the previous day’s uncertainty, we stopped to buy ferry tickets for our onward journey to Folegandros. We had planned four nights on Antiparos, leaving on Tuesday, and secured seats on the Speedrunner high-speed ferry for 10 euros each.

At the ticket office, we were told that today was the “festival of the boats”. Later, I tried to find out more about it but came up with very little. Whatever its origins, the marina told its own story. Boats had been arriving throughout the day, and gazebos now lined the harbour, with signs suggesting sponsorship from Viper. Posters around the village advertised a live performance in the square that evening.

After a walk along the waterfront, we returned to our room for a shower and that long-promised Pimms and lemonade on the terrace, tucked beneath bright bougainvillaea.

It nearly finished us off.

Still tired from the journey, we had to make an effort to head back out, but it was worth it. By early evening, the harbour had transformed. Families and groups filled the cafés, and the waterfront buzzed with energy. Rows of chairs had been set out beside the church, ready for the night’s music.

Further along the marina, things became quieter. After hesitating over a few menus, we chose T’ageri, a small restaurant at the edge of the harbour.

It turned out to be one of those unexpectedly memorable meals.

Our waitress, Maria, introduced herself and chatted easily as we ordered. Peter chose crab, while I opted for meatballs, though I wasn’t especially hungry. His dish was the standout, but everything was good, lifted further by a crisp glass of white wine… and possibly another.

As the evening settled in, a full moon rose slowly over Paros.

Maria told us she was from Patras, as were the chef, Giorgos, and the owners. It was only their second season on Antiparos, and it hadn’t been straightforward. Giorgos later explained how ongoing works outside had left the road covered in mud, and with little support to resolve it, he had taken it upon himself to clean it each day.

There was pride in everything he said about his kitchen. Before we left, he insisted we try his crab salad. I’m not usually drawn to seafood, but it was excellent. We finished with a local dessert of sponge and fruit jelly, far better than it sounds.

It was the kind of place you know you’ll return to.

Back at the square, the evening’s celebrations were already underway. Music filled the air as groups gathered to dance and sing. Children perched along the church wall, watching from above, while someone moved through the crowd handing out cups of water.

At one point, a group of men took to the stage to make announcements, met with warm applause. The night ended with more music and a small burst of fireworks behind the church.

I had no idea what the ‘boat festival’ actually was, but I had enjoyed every minute of it.

[I later discovered it was part of a festival for RIB enthusiasts — rigid inflatable boats, not spare ribs].