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Ikaria , a narrow, windswept landmass between Samos and Mykonos, is little visited and invariably underestimated. The name supposedly derives from the legendary Icarus, who fell into the sea just offshore after the wax bindings on his wings melted. For years the only substantial tourism was generated by a few hot springs on the south coast, some reputed to cure rheumatism and arthritis, some to make women fertile, though others are so highly radioactive that they've been closed for decades. Ikaria, along with Thessaly on the mainland and Lesvos, has traditionally been one of the Greek Left's strongholds. This tendency dates from the long decades of right-wing domination in Greece, when (as in past ages) the island was used as a place of exile for political dissidents. Apparently the strategy backfired, with the Communist transportees favourably impressing and proselytizing their hosts; at the same time, many Ikarians emigrated to North America, and ironically their regular capitalist remittances help keep the island going. It can be a bizarre experience to be treated to a monologue on the evils of US imperialism, delivered by a retiree in perfect Alabaman English. Of late, the Ikarians tend to embrace any vaguely Left cause; posters urge you variously to attend rallies on behalf of Turkish political prisoners or contribute to funding a Zapatista teacher-training school in Chiapas. Athens has historically reacted to this contrarian stance with long periods of punitive neglect, which has only made the islanders even more profoundly self-sufficient and idiosyncratic, and supportive (or at least tolerant) of the same in others. Local pride dictates that outside opinion matters not a bit, and until very recently Ikarians seemed to have little idea what "modern tourists" expected. A lack of obsequiousness, and a studied eccentricity, are often mistaken for hostility. These are not the only Ikarian quirks, and for many the place is an acquired taste, contrasting strongly (for better or worse) with Samos. Except for forested portions in the northwest (now much fire-denuded near the shore to clear land for hotels), it's not a strikingly beautiful island, with most of the terrain consisting of scrub-covered schist put to good use as building material. The mostly desolate south coast is overawed by steep cliffs, while the north face is less sheer but nonetheless furrowed by deep canyons creating hairpin bends extreme even by Greek-island standards. Neither are there many postcard-picturesque villages, since the rural schist-roofed houses are generally scattered so as to be next to their famous apricot orchards, vineyards and fields. Until the mid-1990s, the Ikarians resisted most attempts to develop their island for conventional tourism; charter flights still don't land here, as the northeastern airport can't accommodate jets. Since then, however, there's been a slow but steady increase in the quantity and quality of tourist facilities in and around Armenistis, the only resort of consequence
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