CARVED IN STONE

On the Greek islands of Milos and Kimolos, primitive cave houses are being refashioned as simple but desirable properties. Rachel Howard visits these traditional fishing communities as they navigate between past and present.

- 

Converted cave houses in Mandrakia, a fishing village on the Greek island of Milos.

SEATED ON a plastic chair, draped in a towel emblazoned with the crest of his beloved Olympiacos soccer team, Pandelis Zoulias surveyed his domain. A Greek flag fluttered on the little concrete jetty on his doorstep, which he had jokingly painted with the rough outline of a soccer pitch. He had also fashioned a “fountain” from an old plastic bowl and inlaid the rocky stoop with nautically themed mosaics. “I’m waiting for the last fast ferry to leave, so I can go fishing for calamari,” Zoulias told me. With a well-stocked bar and a barbecue to grill his catch, he often entertains friends at this modest summer hideout. Wearing mirrored shades, a camo baseball cap, and a white singlet, he looked every inch the king of Skinopi, a cluster of cave houses huddled on the shoreline of the Greek island of Milos.

Outdoor dining in Chorio, the sole village on Kimolos.

Decades ago, these tiny cave houses were carved into the porous volcanic rock lining the coast, and used as makeshift storage for boats. (Their colorful wooden doors are typically painted the same shade as the owner’s fishing boat.) The locals call them syrmata, which means “wires” in Greek, after the winches and cables used to haul the boats inside during the winter. Sometimes, the fishermen built a simple room above the boat shed—a place to sleep after a long night at sea, and to enjoy summers on the waterfront with their families.

The outdoor kitchen of Thavma Cyclades Kimolos, a renovated cave house; on the ferry between Milos and Kimolos; a guest room at Skinopi Lodge on Milos.