One Night in Sami – Where the Mountains Meet the Sea

Today marks our final full day on Kefalonia — and I can’t quite believe how quickly the time has flown. We’re trading the bustle of Argostoli for the peaceful charm of Sami, where we’ll spend our last night before moving on.

After one last sweep of the lovely Portogal Apartments, we lug our bags downstairs, bin our rubbish (as dutiful guests should!), and head to the bus station — less than ten minutes away. Thankfully, the timetable had only just been updated. Until yesterday, the only morning bus to Sami left at a very unsociable 07:15!

Just a quick note on bus travel in Kefalonia. Kefalonia’s bus service often syncs beautifully with ferry arrivals and departures. It might not always look promising on paper, but in practice, it functions surprisingly well. Kefalonia has 5 ports which makes it an easy island to connect to.

The island’s bus services often run in sync with boat schedules. Kefalonia has five ports:

At the station, we bought our tickets and waited patiently for the driver to arrive. We soon boarded the bus — a mix of locals and a few tourists. The road takes us out of town, along the back of the lagoon and onto the familiar main road to Sami. When we did this route on a tour earlier in the week, I missed snapping a photo of the Church of Agia Varvara located down in the gorge. This time, I’m ready – and the church has a story!

Just beyond the De Bosset Bridge in Drapano sits a church with a modern-day legend. In 1912, a child reportedly fell from a cliff into the ravine below and miraculously survived. He claimed that a lady in white helped him land safely. Soon after, a mysterious flame began burning there, visible in all weathers. Even the strongest storm and the most torrential rain couldn’t extinguish it. Eventually, locals investigated and found an icon of Agia Varvara next to the flame.

The icon was taken back to Argostoli Town, which at the time was in the midst of a terrible epidemic that had resulted in many deaths. Almost immediately after the icon reached the village, the plague was contained, and it was proclaimed a miracle. To give thanks, the locals built a church in a cave at the bottom of the ravine on the spot where the icon had been found.

The icon, unfortunately, was lost or stolen in recent years, but Agia Varvara remains the Protector of Argostoli and her name day is celebrated every year on December 4th.

It isn’t the best photo taken through the window of a moving bus however, should we return to Argostoli, we will take the walk over the De Bosset Bridge and visit this church.

As we reached the interior of the island, I was able to appreciate the stunning landscape that I’d described in an earlier post. We passed close to the Holy Convent of Agios Gerasimos, the patron saint of the island and the place where his holy relics are housed. Soon after, we can see the fertile plateau where the vineyards of the Robolo grapes grow. A vineyard visit is definitely on the bucket list for next time.

After around 50 minutes, we began to descend into Sami with distant islands sitting on the horizon.

We’re staying at Mary’s Studios and Apartments, a clean, modern place just a 10-minute walk from the port. We probably could’ve asked the driver to drop us closer — oh well! Our host, Angela, warmly welcomed us, and we were relieved that our room was ready, even though we had arrived early.

The studio was bright and airy with a balcony view of the village — perfect for our one-night stay at just €60.

Bags were thrown in – no need to unpack for an overnighter, and we set out to explore by retracing our steps back towards the port. Along the way, we passed the Holy Church of the Assumption of the Virgin and the Archaeological Museum of Sami (which we sadly didn’t have time to visit). But we do have time for bougatsa! The bakery Fatto a Mano is too tempting to resist — their traditional pies smell divine.

At the port is a string of tavernas and a bronze statue of the Unknown Sailor, a nod to Sami’s seafaring history. Around the octagonal plinth are bronze reliefs depicting sailing vessels through the ages. On the face of the plinth is a dedication carved into the marble. Google struggled with the translation, probably due to the capitalisation of the text. The interesting thing about this sailor is that he is facing away from the sea, which is by no means unusual. Occasionally, I stumble across a statue facing out to sea (thinking of Andros Chora). Both have their meanings, which I suspect are influenced by the sculptor. Perhaps this sailor is looking homeward, while those waiting for loved ones gaze toward the waves. It’s poetic either way.

Continuing along the shoreline, we find a quiet, pebbly beach backed by pine trees. Partially submerged in the water are the ruins of the Roman harbour — a relic from when Sami was a key Roman port. The harbour served Roman naval and commercial vessels, facilitating the export of local goods such as wine, oil, and ceramics. The remains aren’t obvious unless you know they’re there (thank you, helpful sign!).

Back at the port, we ferry-geek for a bit, watching the boats roll in. We hadn’t at that point decided which boat to catch the following day. We saw the Andreas Kalvos (Levante Ferries), the Ionio Pelagos (Ionion Pelagos Lines) and the smaller boat, the Lefkada Palace. Sami has two main ferry docks, and it’s worth knowing which one your boat uses before departure, as it isn’t very clear.

Continuing around the water’s edge, we made it to the other side of the bay, past a small harbour for fishing boats. Here, there are some pretty tavernas located under the shade of a cluster of plane trees. We decided there and then that this is where we would eat later.

The beach here is long and wide, mainly pebble with small patches of sand. During the season, it is organised with sunbeds and parasols, which, considering the lack of natural shade here, would be a necessity. The gently shelving seabed makes it ideal for families.

We took the newly-discovered shortcut back to Mary’s via the beach road. I was immediately struck by Sami’s uniform architecture and grid layout of the streets — a far cry from the twisty alleys typical of Greek villages. It reminded me of the little island of Agios Efstratios, rebuilt by the military junta after a 1968 quake. Kefalonia’s 1953 earthquake left similar scars, with most traditional buildings destroyed. Only Fiskardo escaped.

Yet amid the rather utilitarian but quake-proof design of these modern homes, each still expresses individual charm through rose-filled gardens, shutters, and decorative touches. These small details say so much about a place.

That evening, we strolled down to Il Familia, a waterfront taverna with breathtaking views across the sea to Ithaca in the distance. There’s something reassuring about being surrounded by islands that appear to be within touching distance. It gives a quiet sense of connection to other people, other places, and to life itself. Sometimes, when I’ve looked out into a large expanse of open and empty sea, it gives me a feeling of unexpected unease. There’s something a little disconcerting about it, but I’m not quite sure why. Maybe it’s something rooted in my childhood in Dover — a feeling I’ve yet to fully understand.

The meal was perfect! We share dakos with carob rusk, freshly baked bread, and a superb lamb shank (me) and fish (Peter), finishing with the dreamiest portokalopita with ice cream. What a beautiful way to say goodbye to Kefalonia.

Tomorrow we leave for Ithaca!