I fell so hard for this beautiful town that I moved here

July 2, 2026 — 5:00am

As alluring as the famed Greek goddess Aphrodite, Nafplio first won my heart more than 20 years ago. I fell hard for this beautiful town.

Located in the Peloponnese, a two-hour drive from Athens, Nafplio, modern Greece’s first capital, is crowned by two ancient fortresses. Crammed into a small, steep peninsula is a mass of neoclassical, Venetian-style mansions; their painted shutters and terracotta roofs provide delightful pops of colour. The town’s labyrinth of bougainvillea-filled laneways, churches and ancient mosque domes are legacies of occupation by Turks and Venetians. The waters of the Argolic Gulf lap at the port below.

After exploring the historic centre’s alleys and marvelling at Ottoman fountains, I used to rest on the main square, Syntagma, a longstanding meeting place, where locals relaxed under cafe brollies while their children raced around the plaza on wobbly bicycles. Then I’d head off to explore the extraordinary archaeological sites: Mycenae, home of King Agamemnon, Ancient Tiryns and the perfect Greek classical theatre of Epidaurus, all in easy reach.

The scents of orange blossom mingled with the town’s history and beauty to create an intoxicating atmosphere; Nafplio was ripe for an “I could live here” moment. And, of course, I had one. On reflection, my romantic sentiments were less about identifying this as my happy place and more about the location seducing me, like Odysseus’ sirens. But it turned out it was a slow-burning and drawn-out affair.

I continued to visit regularly as a contributor to the Lonely Planet Greece guidebook until, after a decade of living in Washington DC, my partner and I chose to extract ourselves from the political chaos. We chose Nafplio as our new home, but not for the reasons I’d anticipated. While the town’s lure had always remained strong, the attraction had morphed.

The more I’d visited over the years, the less I was captivated by its beauty. Now I began to see its flaws too: the graffiti that had exploded from occasional “tags” to layers of vomitus scrawl, covering historic houses and the base of the centuries-old Palamidi and Acronafplia fortresses. How, in busy periods, litter spews from the rubbish bins (if it makes it there) and along the cliffside path leading to the town’s Arvanitia Beach – a small strip of pebbles, lapped by the clear aquamarine sea. And the town mansions, now a mass of boutique hotels, had pushed most of the population to the sprawling “modern” section of town.

But rather, I was lured by the genuine friendships and a community that blossomed on each visit.

Over the years, our initial greetings turned to chats. Those chats became outings. Outings to family gatherings. Family gatherings to invitations to Christmas, Easter and name days. The children of the families (now adults) have included us at their weddings and their babies’ baptisms. We’re invited to olive harvests, bread-making sessions and regular Greek feasts.

Even now, we’re forming new friendships, the latest with our landlords who appreciate how we enjoy and care for their charming, if worn, apartment that’s located in the “new” town, beyond the beautiful historic centre. This is the sprawl – the clutter of semi-modern concrete blocks – that I ignored on my initial visits, unable to drag myself away from the pretty historic centre. It’s also the “real” heart of Nafplio, a chaotic hub that’s home to bakeries, fishmongers and butchers as well as shoe shops and cafes galore, plus doctors, banks and telecommunications companies.

All this may sound naively romantic. But, having lived elsewhere in the world, including Mozambique and Mexico, our eyes remain wide open. We know we’ll always be outsiders. Meanwhile, we’ve been embraced by the locals. Twice weekly, we drag our purple shopping trolley to the local produce market, where our chosen sellers treat us well, producing their “best” produce: the sweeter beetroot and the quality horta (variety of greens).

And, of course, frustrations are frequent; the bureaucracy is relentless (my friend, Apostolos, reminds me that the word derives partly from Greek) whether it’s opening a telephone account or signing a lease. But whenever we strike a problem, we’re always assured: “Don’t worry. There’s always a solution!” (And indeed, there is).

My Greek language skills are frustratingly limited to greetings and requests, if improving. When a local person mistakes my fluency and replies with a barrage of Greek garble, I pull out the handy: “’Ta Elenika mou telionou ado!” (My Greek stops here!). Yet while my Greek is limited to date, Nafplio’s draw is endless.

On discussing my love for Nafplio – and it being my happy place – with my dear friends, Petros and Panagiota, they assure me that I am now sufficiently local to declare: Ego Nafpliotissa! (I’m a Nafplio local).