We recently spent a long weekend aboard M/Y Persefoni, where life quickly settled into a slower, more spontaneous rhythm. Cruising through the Saronic Gulf between swimming anchorages, quiet harbour towns, and evenings that stretched longer than expected, Vivian Hendricks explores why Persefoni might be the best way to experience Greece.
A weekend on board M/Y Persefoni
We arrived in Athens under a bright spring sun and stepped on board the 53m M/Y Persefoni, a yacht for charter that’s long been on the bucket list. There was a quick round of introductions, bags quietly taken from our hands, and something cold already waiting. By the time we sat down for lunch on the upper deck, none of us was entirely sure which island we were looking at anymore.
The morning had drifted between the water and the boat. Seabobs, jetskis, E-foils, but mostly just time passing without much structure. Somewhere along the way, the idea of sticking to an itinerary disappeared entirely. We berthed by Perdika on Aegina, with loose plans to continue on to Salamis, Spetses, or Dokos. Then someone mentioned swimming, and that was enough. Captain George C. adjusted course without much discussion, and soon Persefoni dropped anchor between Agkistri and the islet of Dorousa. The weekend had begun.
Greece: A different pace of charter
This kind of flexibility is becoming more familiar in the world of charter yachts. There’s a growing appetite for charters that prioritise pace over distance, where the experience isn’t defined by how much you see, but how it unfolds. M/Y Persefoni yacht for charter, a 53.8-metre Mariotti delivered in 2012, suits that approach.
Persefoni spends summers across the Mediterranean, from the Amalfi Coast to the Côte d’Azur, but cruising Greece feels particularly well matched to her rhythm. Departing from Flisvos Marina, we moved along the coastline with a sense of almost lazy ease, settling into a late lunch of Greek dishes with a modern edge, prepared by Michelin-trained chef Sotiris.
From the main saloon, wide windows framed the dry, rocky hillsides, broken occasionally by seagulls trailing behind us. “They know where the good stuff is,” someone said, watching them circle.
Arriving in Perdika
Later, drinks appeared on the upper deck aft, cocktails, something cold, something stronger if you wanted it. We moved naturally upwards as Persefoni circled Aegina towards Perdika. Arriving by water softened everything. The harbour gradually came into view, lined with tavernas and low, whitewashed buildings.
As I got ready to go ashore, Manik, the chief stewardess, mentioned she used to spend summers there. Her best friend’s uncle owned one of the tavernas. “If you go, say hi to Markos,” she said, pointing it out. On land, the village felt easy and unfiltered.
Cats slept under café tables, locals lingered over drinks, and shopkeepers offered samples of homemade pistachio creams before you’d even asked. It felt grounded in kefi, that quiet, infectious sense of enjoyment that runs through Greek life.
Life on board Persefoni superyacht
Following a 2023 refit, Persefoni’s interiors feel light and open, shaped by Luca Dini’s focus on natural light and flow. Neutral tones, soft textures, and spaces that invite you to settle rather than move through. With six ensuite cabins, including a main-deck owner’s suite with twin balconies, she accommodates up to twelve guests, supported by a crew of 13. Outside, the sundeck, jacuzzi, bar, and open dining areas shift easily between quiet and social.
Life on board Persefoni unfolded without much structure in the evenings. Dinner leaned Spanish and Italian that night, gazpacho, smoked eel, tiramisu, served on a table set with flowers that somehow still looked freshly cut.
Menus shifted throughout the trip, Mediterranean one evening, something more Asian the next. Nothing felt overly curated, but everything arrived at the right moment. Meals stretched, conversations followed, and no one seemed in a hurry to end either.
The upper deck became the natural centre of things. Mornings started there, gathering before heading down to the beach club, and often ended there, too.
Days without structure
Days settled into their own rhythm. Morning swims followed by coffee in the sun. Time between the jacuzzi, a book, or nothing in particular.
Onshore, in Old Epidaurus Bay, we passed a child’s birthday party along the harbour. Children weaving between adults deep in conversation. At Kalamaki beach, locals snorkelled for sea urchins. On Poros, we wandered without direction, through narrow streets, climbing towards the clock tower. Bougainvillaea spilling across walls, small shops filled with ceramics and linen, sailboats rocking beside waterfront cafés. Time felt suspended in a way that’s difficult to replicate elsewhere. Eventually, someone came to find me to say the tender had arrived. Otherwise, I might have stayed longer.
The real luxury
The structure on board the Persefoni yacht for charter felt deliberately loose, leaving space for the Saronic Islands to unfold without being managed. One afternoon, anchored in Mega Neorio Bay, I took a paddleboard to shore to explore the old Russian dockyards, while others stayed back on board, reading or settling into the hot tub. Everyone moved at their own pace.
That, more than anything, felt like the real luxury. Not just where you are, but the absence of urgency. From morning swims in the Aegean to evenings along quiet harbours, the most memorable moments were the ones that hadn’t been planned at all.
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