You reach the destination in no time – without a single stop. Inside, the modern ferry feels more like a commercial airplane, with numbered seats and overhead monitors playing video clips for entertainment. The trip from Piraeus takes just over an hour at best. Then you arrive: Hydra.

No Greek island have I visited as often over the years as Hydra. Its proximity to Athens is a decisive advantage. As a teenager, when I lived in the Greek capital with my parents, the island in the Saronic Gulf was a favorite destination. Back then, we traveled by ferry, stopping along the way at Aegina and Poros. The journey took four hours or more. We spent the time on deck, watching the sea and the passing islands alongside fellow passengers.

Those regular trips to Hydra came to an end when my parents bought a vacation home on Paros. From then on, that island in the heart of the Cyclades became our reference point – a place where I experienced many moments of happiness with family and friends. That chapter ended when my father sold the family home after my mother’s early death. By then, my career had taken me to faraway Korea. Still, I reserved two to three weeks each year for Greece.

Our search for a new holiday destination led us first to Naxos, then Tinos, and eventually to Chios, on the eastern edge of the Aegean. The criteria were clear: We were looking for a place off the beaten tourist path. At the time, we were living in East Asia, and on vacation I wanted to experience Greece as I had come to know and love it – above all through encounters with its people. Chios provided a wonderful setting for that. Yet getting there is relatively complicated, and once you arrive, it is difficult to explore the island fully without a car.

As chance would have it, our closest friends in Korea had a direct connection to Hydra; the wife, of Greek descent, even had family ties to the island. “Why don’t you go to Hydra?” they would often suggest. For a long time, I hesitated. After so many years, I feared that the Hydra I remembered might no longer exist. To avoid that disappointment, I stayed away. In the end, practical considerations prevailed: the proximity to Athens, the strict ban on cars. At the time, we were living in Seoul, a sprawling metropolis where traffic congestion is a fact of daily life. The idea of a place without cars – a place where our growing son could roam freely without danger – ultimately persuaded us.

I remember vividly the moment I stepped off at Hydra’s harbor for the first time in years. It was almost a shock – like traveling back in time. Nothing, absolutely nothing, seemed to have changed. Perhaps that sense of astonishment was heightened by the fact that we had arrived from South Korea, a country defined by relentless dynamism. We experienced a society driven forward with extraordinary ambition, one that leaves little room for the past. The contrast with Hydra could hardly have been greater: Here, time seemed to have stood still in the most pleasant way.

That Hydra has remained outwardly unchanged over the years is the result of a strict preservation policy. Construction that deviates from the historical character is prohibited. The town’s aesthetic – rising along the hillsides like an ancient amphitheater – is striking. And so it is meant to remain, at almost any cost.

When building does occur – and given the island’s growing prosperity and the influx of newcomers, there is demand – it is largely limited to the painstaking restoration of existing structures. New construction is rare and must adhere closely to historical models. Authorities, including the archaeological administration in Athens, monitor compliance closely. Nearly everything is regulated: from wooden window frames (plastic is frowned upon) to the precise shade of exterior paint. The result is a settlement of rare beauty – a postcard image reproduced countless times and long since one of Greece’s defining attractions.

None of this comes without cost. The ban on cars and the strict building regulations have their price. Every form of transport becomes a challenge – whether moving household goods, construction materials or everyday supplies. Not to mention the countless suitcases of tourists. A small army of sturdy mules forms the backbone of the island’s logistics. Led by experienced handlers, the animals gather each morning at the harbor. This labor-intensive system has always made Hydra somewhat more expensive than other islands. Its popularity has not suffered – quite the opposite. Donkeys and mules have themselves become an attraction.

In the summer months, the island has long been fully booked; reservations must be made well in advance. From November onward, Hydra slips into hibernation. Shops and restaurants close, and residents take a break before returning for the season by Easter at the latest. Then, Greeks from nearby Athens flock to the island to celebrate the Resurrection, and Hydra can become very crowded.

To avoid the peak, we travel against the rhythm. My wife and I visited the island in the week after Easter. The mood among restaurateurs and shopkeepers was buoyant. The start of the season, we were told everywhere, could hardly have been better.

This year, the boom began earlier than usual. The arrival of Brad Pitt for a film shoot brought international attention – and, as the Greek press reported, a noticeable economic boost. Businesses that closed or made their premises available for filming were paid up to €5,000 per day. “Hydra is experiencing a cinematic comeback,” media declared – a nod to 1957, when Sophia Loren filmed “Boy on a Dolphin” here. The picturesque harbor itself has changed little since then. Behind the scenes, however, much is in motion.

Among the people with whom I have developed a friendship over the years is Hydra’s mayor, Georgios Koukoudakis. I meet him in his office in a side wing of the Metropolis, directly by the harbor – a place steeped in history, where captains and revolutionaries of the Greek War of Independence once came and went. Today, a political scientist with a doctorate oversees the affairs of the municipality.

Books about Hydra are stacked on his heavy desk, including one he authored himself, detailing the island’s contribution to the struggle against Ottoman rule. The book was published in time for the bicentennial of the uprising in 2021.

Another volume is soon to follow. This time, he focuses on the “Exodus” from the besieged city of Messolonghi in 1826 – a defining episode of the Greek War of Independence. The desperate attempt by the trapped population to escape ended in a massacre and became a symbol of sacrifice and resistance. Hydra’s role in that episode, he says, will be explored in detail.

Now in his third term, the mayor appears widely popular, at least judging from conversations on the island. Infrastructure improvements are underway – aging water pipes have been replaced, and construction equipment still clutters some streets. On his Facebook page, he recently announced the completion of a floodlit tennis court, earning a flurry of likes. Yet despite these visible signs of progress, the mayor is concerned about Hydra’s future.

“Our biggest problem is the housing shortage,” he says. The situation, he warns, has reached a point where it threatens the island’s economic viability.

The reasons are clear: strict regulations that effectively prevent new construction, combined with the growing conversion of residential properties into tourist accommodations – particularly through platforms like Airbnb. The range now extends from modest rooms to luxury villas catering to affluent visitors.

What worries him most is that essential workers – teachers and doctors – can no longer find affordable housing and are therefore staying away. The issue has become acute: The local police station is currently searching for a new building after its landlords declined to renew the lease, planning instead to convert the property into short-term rentals.

Without workers from the mainland or abroad, Hydra’s economy would no longer function. In the 1990s and beyond, migrants from Albania filled many roles; today, workers from Asia are increasingly employed, particularly in the hospitality sector. Finding adequate and affordable accommodation for them is becoming ever more difficult. A friend tells me of a well-paid chef from Athens who now shares a room with a dishwasher from Pakistan.

There is no solution in sight. Proposals to designate land outside the historic settlement for new construction remain taboo. Meanwhile, across the water on the mainland, villas and resort complexes are multiplying – within sight of the island.

They are no real competition. Hydra remains unique. And it will likely remain so: a place of longing – above all for those who can afford it.

Originally published at ekathimerini.com.