Volcanic
Níssyros
is
noticeably
greener
than its
southern
neighbours
Tílos
and
Hálki,
and
unlike
them has
proven
wealthy
enough
to
retain
over
eight
hundred
of its
population
year-round
(down,
though,
from
10,000
in
1900).
While
remittances
from
abroad (particularly
Astoria,
New
York)
are
significant,
most of
the
island's
income
is
derived
from the
offshore
islet of
Yialí,
where a
vast
lump of
pumice
is
slowly
being
quarried
away by
Lava Ltd.
The
concession
fee
collected
from
Lava by
the
municipality
has
engendered
a huge
public
payroll
and vast
per-capita
sums
available
to spend,
making
Níssyros
something
of a
mini-Kuwait.
Under
the
circumstances,
the
Nissyrians
bother
little
with
agriculture
other
than
keeping
cows and
pigs;
the
hillside
terraces
meticulously
carved
out for
grain
and
grapes
lie
fallow,
and wine
is no
longer
made
locally.
The
main
island's
peculiar
geology
is
potentially
a source
of other
benefits:
DEI, the
Greek
power
company,
spent
the
years
between
1988 and
1992
sinking
exploratory
geothermal
wells
and
attempting
to
convince
the
islanders
of the
benefits
of cheap
electricity.
In 1993,
a local
referendum
went
massively
against
the
project,
and DEI,
together
with its
Italian
contractor,
took the
hint and
packed
up. The
desalination
plant,
reliant
on an
expensive
fuel-oil
generator,
scarcely
provides
enough
fresh
water to
spur a
massive
growth
in
package
tourism.
The
relatively
few
tourists
(mostly
German)
who stay
the
night,
as
opposed
to the
day-trippers
from Kós,
still
find
peaceful
villages
with a
minimum
of
concrete
eyesores
and a
friendly
if
rather
tight-knit
population.
Níssyros
also
offers
good
walking
opportunities
through
a
countryside
planted
with oak
and
terebinth,
on a
network
of
trails
fitfully
marked
and
maintained
with EU
money;
wherever
you
stroll
you'll
hear the
contented
grunting
of pigs
as they
gorge
themselves
on
acorns
from the
many oak
trees.
Autumn
is a
wonderful
time,
especially
when the
landscape
has
perked
up after
the
first
rains,
though
the
late-January
almond-blossoming
no
longer
occurs,
as the
trees
have
unhappily
died
out.