Among the most striking sights in the archaeological site of Aptera are the Roman cisterns – and an enormous public infrastructure project that still inspires awe today. The three grand barrel-vaulted chambers, supported by elegant arches, were originally built to serve a purely utilitarian purpose: collecting and storing rainwater to supply the nearby Roman baths. Yet their scale and symmetry leave a deep impression.

Located atop the hill of Paliokastro at an elevation of approximately 230 meters, Aptera commands sweeping views over Souda Bay, just 15 kilometers east of the city of Chania. Its elevation and proximity to the coast made it one of the most powerful city-states in western Crete in antiquity.

“The monumental nature of this hydraulic system speaks volumes about the prosperity Aptera experienced during Roman times,” explains Dr. Katerina Tzanakaki, archaeologist and head of the Department of Prehistoric and Classical Antiquities and Museums at the Ephorate of Antiquities of Hania.

She shares a detail that bridges past and present: “During excavations, local villagers pointed out an old threshing floor that once stood directly above the vaulted roof of the cistern. They told us it could bear the weight of twelve pairs of oxen, a testament to the engineering strength of the original construction.”

Over the centuries, Aptera has been shaped not only by the ancient Greeks and Romans, but also by Byzantine monks who settled in the monastery built on the site, 20th-century European travelers, and even German military archaeologists during the WWII occupation.

“And yet,” notes Tzanakaki, “despite the many layers of history, the landscape remains unchanged. What makes Aptera so captivating is this sense of continuity – the chance to witness how a city evolved over millennia, without losing the essence of its original form. We’ve preserved that integrity since modern excavations began in 1993, under the direction of archaeologist Vana Niniou.”

Cycles of Life

Aptera’s long history is marked by repeated cycles of prosperity and decline. The city-state flourished primarily between the 4th century BCE and the 4th century CE. One place where both cycles are visible is the Roman baths. The marble wall cladding and intricate pebble mosaics on the floors clearly speak of affluence. Yet the discovery of large sacks filled with cattle bones in the same space suggests something quite different – that after the devastating earthquake of 365 CE, people sought shelter within these abandoned bathhouses, bringing their entire domestic lives under the vaulted ceilings.

A similar cycle of abandonment occurred in the 20th century, when a lime kiln was constructed right in the middle of the ancient theater. Its fire consumed the stone seats to produce building material for nearby villages.

“It was a shocking discovery,” says Dr. Katerina Tzanakaki, “and very clear in its implications – a visible record of what had happened here.” The restoration project was particularly challenging, she notes, and the goal was not to conceal the site’s condition, but to respect it. “We chose not to over-reconstruct. Only a limited number of new seats were added, matching the few ancient ones that survived.”

While today’s seating capacity is far less than the estimated 3,000 spectators the theater could accommodate in Roman times, its connection to the surrounding landscape remains breathtaking. Behind the orchestra, olive trees stretch toward the horizon, and the White Mountains rise dramatically in the distance. Despite the reduced cavea, the acoustics are still superb.

“Every time a concert or play is staged, the 300 tickets sell out within minutes,” says Giorgos Mastrantonakis, one of the site’s longtime stewards.

This emotional connection to the site is shared by the performers themselves. Giorgos Mathioulakis, artistic director of the Chania Chamber Music Festival, considers it a privilege to live in a place with over 2,500 years of cultural history.

“To stand where art was made in the 4th century BCE is deeply moving,” he says. “At the same time, we feel a sense of responsibility – a duty to ensure that whatever we present here lives up to the brilliance of its past. The musicians are thrilled to experience the unique atmosphere of performing music in such an evocative ancient theater.”

A City that Still Speaks

The entire recent history of cultural revival in Aptera is quietly mapped out on a single wall inside the guard station; a wall lined with posters from every performance and festival held here since 2015.

“When people walk down the ancient cobbled path toward the theater, it feels as if the city has come back to life,” says site steward Giorgos Mastrantonakis. “And that has a lot to do with the affection locals in Chania feel for Aptera.”

He’s just as moved by the foreign visitors who instinctively pause at the thymele, the circular altar in the center of the orchestra, to recite lines from beloved plays. “They’re amazed when their voice echoes back perfectly, as if from a hidden speaker.”

As we walk toward the Ottoman-era fortress of Koules, also part of the archaeological site, Giorgos reflects on the kind of travelers who come here. “Most visitors arrive well-informed. They know what they’re looking for. Many come on their own, and some even take the local KTEL bus from Chania and hike the two kilometers uphill from the highway just to reach the site.”

Last year, Aptera welcomed around 60,000 visitors. “What people love most,” he says, “is the sense that this city is still undiscovered. Even those of us who work here are constantly noticing something new, details we’d never quite seen before. That’s part of the joy of this place.”

Dr. Katerina Tzanakaki agrees. Many areas of the site are still awaiting excavation or official expropriation. When work resumes, there is strong potential for new discoveries and major finds.

“The sea,” she notes, “was always a defining element of this walled city. Aptera was a major commercial hub, and its importance can be understood on many levels – from its strategic vantage over Souda Bay directly below to the city’s founding myth, which tells of a contest between the Muses and the Sirens.”

According to legend, the Sirens lost and tore off their wings in shame before plunging into the sea. The tiny wingless islets – the Aptares – that now dot the water opposite the fortress are said to be their remnants.

Something of their song still seems to echo in the air here. You can almost hear it, carried on the wind across this ancient, spellbinding city.