The harbour horseshoe

Hydra's port is a small horseshoe closed on three sides by the stone archontika that eighteenth-century shipowners built with sea money — grey masonry and red tile rather than Cycladic whitewash, stacked up the slope like an amphitheatre. The quay runs the whole way round, so one slow lap covers every angle, and the town rises behind whichever way the camera points.

The rare thing here is what is missing. Cars and motorbikes are banned across the island, so there is nothing parked along the waterfront and nothing driving through the background: the frames come out with stone, boats, mules and water, and that is all. Because the port faces north the town stays in soft indirect light through the afternoon, which suits portraits far better than the hard side-lighting of a south-facing Aegean harbour.

The two clean windows are early and late. Before the first hydrofoil from Piraeus the quay belongs to fishermen and delivery mules; after the last one leaves, the lamps come on and the water doubles the lit facades. Between them the cafés fill the perimeter — still workable, but expect people at every table in a wide shot.