There is a feeling many people describe when they first visit Crete: strangely, it feels like coming home.
How can a place you’ve never lived in, perhaps never even visited, feel so familiar? Maybe it’s the landscape, the relaxed pace of life, the warmth of the people, or simply enjoying a good meal with nowhere else to be.
For me, it may be partly my family ties to Greece, but I think it also comes from an ancient Greek tradition: philoxenia.
Often translated as hospitality, philoxenia means something deeper: love and kindness toward strangers. In ancient Greece, welcoming strangers was considered a sacred duty, closely associated with Zeus, protector of guests and travellers. In The Odyssey, this obligation is known as the law of hospitality. Strangers were to be offered food, shelter and kindness, because they might be gods in disguise. When Odysseus returns to Ithaca disguised as a beggar, he too relies on this tradition of welcoming those seeking shelter.
I’ve travelled to several parts of Greece, but nowhere have I experienced philoxenia as profoundly as in Crete. Perhaps that’s fitting, given that Greek mythology places Zeus’s birthplace in a cave on the island. Here, philoxenia isn’t an ancient concept preserved in history. It’s alive and well.
We’ve found it in the generous supplies waiting in our accommodations: not just water, but wine, fresh eggs, bread, olive oil, jams, olives, coffee, milk and raki, the local spirit. We’ve found it in restaurants, where complimentary appetizers arrive before we’ve ordered, followed by dessert and a small glass of liquor at the end of the meal. At a simple, self-serve bakery, a bottle of water appeared on our table, followed almost immediately by a glass filled with ice. Even those waiting in line at restaurants are offered water while they wait.
None of these gestures is extravagant. That’s what makes them so meaningful.
Philoxenia isn’t about giving something expensive. It’s about making strangers feel welcome, as though there is always room at the table, something to eat and drink, and someone willing to make them feel at home.
Perhaps that’s why Crete feels like so much more than a beautiful place to visit. The kindness of people you may never have met before, or ever see again, can make you feel, even briefly, as though you belong. Perhaps that is the enduring spirit of Zeus’s ancient law of hospitality: welcome the stranger as though they might be a god, because you never know who has just walked into your life.