Skopelos Chora

The Chora climbs the slope behind its harbour in tiers, and the roofs are the giveaway that this is not the Cyclades: grey slate and red tile rather than flat white, packed so tightly that from the water the town looks like one structure. Between them run stepped lanes barely a metre wide, with a couple of hundred small churches wedged into the gaps.

Those lanes are the working asset. They are deep enough to stay in open shade through the middle of the day, which makes the Chora the answer when a session lands at noon and the coast is glaring, and every few turns one of them opens out over the roofs to the sea. On the sea wall at the bottom stands Panagia tou Pyrgou, a white chapel on the rocks that is the town's classic frame; at the top, the ruined kastro takes the last light over the whole harbour.

Sessions run uphill from the harbour and finish at the kastro for sunset. It is a real climb on stone steps, so flat shoes, and the lanes are residents' front doors — small setups, quiet voices. Cars stop at the harbour front.