ON THE BEATEN PATH IN MYKONOS : THE BEST KNOWN OF THE FABLED GREEK ISLANDS CAN BE MADDENINGLY TOURISTY--BUT ALSO WILDLY ATTRACTIVE

This is not the normal way of things. To arrange passage to the most famous of Greek Islands. To grab a hotel room. To fall into repose by the deep blue Mediterranean Sea. And then be moved to thoughts of Yogi Berra and Toots Shor.

But it can happen. It was a brilliant day last August, and to reach the beach I had shouldered my way down the celebrated whitewashed alleyways of Mykonos, past well-laden mules, past hunched widows wrapped in black, past skinny stray cats, past overloaded, speeding, buzzing motor scooters whose young drivers still bore scabbed elbows from the last skid.

Then came the beach, and the bronzed masses--straight, gay, European, American, solitary, coupled, topless, bottomless and concentrated in such density that the sun seemed to be striking more skin than sand. And that, believe it or not, is when I thought of Yogi.

Back in his days as a catcher for the Yankees, someone asked Yogi about Toots Shor’s restaurant, then a popular nightspot.

“Nobody goes there anymore,” Yogi is said to have replied. “It’s too crowded.”

They say that about Mykonos, too. The place fills up every summer, the population swelling from roughly 6,000 occupants to 20,000--by one tour guide’s estimate--for understandable reasons: The sun is warm, the water is clear, the night life is diverse and formidable, the shopping is stylish and few sights can rival the view of waterfront tavernas by night, the blue domes of Orthodox churches under the harsh light of day, the tall windmills and all those boxy white buildings crawling up the rocky, dusty hillsides.

Since I arrived Aug. 30, as the hordes of summer were beginning to disperse, I didn’t face Mykonos at its tourist-saturated worst. But it was still plenty busy, and during my brief stay, I dedicated myself to avoiding hassles with the masses. In this campaign, I had victories, and I had defeats.

Victory: A hike up the hill. I checked into my hotel, the pricey, comfortable Cavo Tagoo, half a mile outside the island’s main town (known alternately as Mykonos Town or Chora), strolled into town, then turned away from the blue-green sea and started climbing the narrow alleys.

The crowds dwindled, the architecture enveloped me, and eventually I reached a hilltop with a handsome view of city and sea below. Even better, a windmill stood down the street, open to any visitor interested in scratching the resident cat under the chin or climbing the interior steps to peer down from a greater height. )

Defeat: Clearly, it’s money that makes the island float. You can’t walk from one part of town to another without being touristically pandered to. The costliest examples of this are the many jewelry stores. The most frequent examples are the postcard displays; the restaurants with barkers out front and suspiciously international menus (one offered stroganoff, curry, moussaka and paella on the same bill of fare), and the T-shirt shops. One shirt bore this message: “Sex 30%. Love 25%. Relax 45%. This is Mykonos 100%.”

Victory: On my first full day, I swallowed a little pride and signed up for a city tour--three hours, about $15. Yes, it meant sitting on a bus with other tourists, but on an island of just 23 square miles, a three-hour survey gives you a clear idea of where to invest the rest of your time.

No one is likely to linger long in the island’s interior. The inland expanses look like Ireland after a 1,000-year drought--bare rolling hills, dry scrub and properties marked off by ancient piles of stones.

The coast is more complicated. Southwest of town, at Yiannis Beach, we caught a distant view of the neighboring island of Delos and its temple ruins. Directly south, at Ornos Beach, dozens of children played at the edge of the calm waters. To the northeast, at Ftelia Beach, powerful winds raked windsurfers across the water. Yiannis, Ornos, Platis Yalos (south of town) and Aghios Stefanos (north of town) are known as family beaches. Paradise (southeast of town) is considered largely heterosexual and nudist; Elia (east of Paradise) is thought of as quietly gay and nudist; and Super Paradise (southeast of town, next to Paradise) is considered a loudly gay and nudist beach. In fact, Billy Kolber, editor of Out and About newsletter for gay travelers, calls Super Paradise “the most popular gay beach on the island, and one of the gayest beaches in the world,” surpassing such other European island retreats as Sitges and Ibiza off the coast of Spain.

Simultaneously, however, Kolber and others agree that in the last few years, Mykonos has been drawing larger and larger shares of heterosexual travelers, many of whom arrive in couples. At the Cruise Line, a Miami-based agency that specializes in cruises, vice president Don Lansky counts 26 cruise ships that have included Mykonos on itineraries this fall.

Defeat: One reason I took the island tour was to reach the village of Ano Mera, an ancient settlement dominated by the 400-year-old Monastery of the Panagia Tourliani and set in the hot and dusty middle of the island. Sitting in that location, I thought, the village might retain a more rough-hewn, genuine quality than could be found in town. Instead, the town was so tiny, so still and so architecturally unremarkable that I could find nothing to hold my gaze for more than a moment. The monastery’s bell tower was tall and its interior ornate and striking, especially the 200-year-old gold-encrusted screen that is the centerpiece of the place, and the star-studded blue sky painted onto the ceiling. But the echoing chants I heard turned out to be emanating from a Samsung boombox operated by an old man with a white beard.

Victory: As the island tour suggests, it sometimes does pay to do what other tourists are doing. Late one day, I followed the crowds toward the scenic waterfront neighborhood (near the equally scenic Panagia Paraportiani church) known as Venice, and took an outdoor seat at the Veranda Club. There, I slowly sipped a Heineken (which cost about $3.50) as the sun sank into an orange puddle and wayward surf slapped against a seawall and splashed within inches of my seat. It was no secret, but it had to be one of the best sunset seats on the island.

Defeat: Petros and Irini, pelicans, are mascots of Mykonos. I never encountered Irini, but Petros, apparently an import from a German zoo in the 1980s, was a prime attraction. All day, tourists snapped its picture, tweaked its beak, and poked, prodded and taunted it. One morning I watched an Italian tourist do all those things, to the great amusement of his fellow travelers. Finally the bird snapped back, beak jutting and wings beating. The tourist, I am sorry to report, was not hurt.

Yet another victory : Most people get around Mykonos by foot, by bus, by rental scooter and rental car, and sometimes by small boats. With not much vegetation and not much water, horses are rare. But in 1993, a transplanted South African named David Sauermann started a stable on the island. By the time I had arrived, he had four horses and a horseback tour business (English saddle) for travelers. For a two-hour ride, he was asking about $35 (advance booking was via Windmills Travel and Tourism, local tel. 23877). Following an ancient donkey path, Sauermann led me and two other customers past sheep, goats, pigs, cats, dogs, mopeds, trucks, churches, stacked stones and the startled bathers of Paradise Beach, most of whom weren’t expecting the joint shadows of horse and rider to pass between them and their precious sun. We finished the ride with a pulse-quickening dash back up another old donkey trail.

“I give the island kids lessons, which their parents like very much,” Sauermann told me. “And I know what they’re thinking: Maybe one day their child can take over this business.”

One last victory: The island’s residents were just winding up three months of round-the-clock tending to thousands of often-exasperating travelers. I was ready to allow for weary service. And yet people kept doing me, an utterly obvious tourist, good turns. One evening in the Kastro bar, a waiter noticed that I’d drunk hardly any of my strawberry daiquiri (I’d only ordered it because they didn’t have beer) and knocked 50% off the price. Earlier the same day, a waitress gave me a free second iced tea (not the restaurant’s policy) because she’d been so late in coming to my table.

You could argue that when a daiquiri at half price still costs $3, and when tea refills aren’t free, the service had better be good. But that still doesn’t account for the most memorable bit of unbidden generosity I found on Mykonos.

One Sunday morning, as worshipers gathered outside a downtown church, a little old lady in black spotted me lurking by the church door. I thought she had noticed my camera and was about to heap scorn on my head. Instead, she reached down to a table full of sweets, grabbed a cupcake and a bag of granola, honey and yogurt, and made them a gift to me, grinning toothily.

“Eat!” she said. “Cake!”

I left later that day, before my good luck could run out.

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GUIDEBOOK

Joining Crowds on Mykonos

Getting there: The island of Mykonos lies 94 nautical miles southeast of Piraeus, the port that serves Athens. There are no nonstop or direct flights from LAX to Athens, but American, Delta, United, Lufthansa, TWA, Northwest, KLM and British Airways are among the airlines offering connections, with restricted round-trip air fares beginning at $1,265, including taxes. (Also, Olympic Airways, the Greek national airline, flies to Athens from New York.) Flights from Athens to Mykonos (about 45 minutes) depart daily on Olympic with one-way restricted coach fares beginning at $56. To reach the island by sea from Athens, take a ferry or hydrofoil from Piraeus to Mykonos. The trip is six to seven hours, and fares begin at $12.

When to go: Most hotels and restaurants are open from April to October, and close for the cold, tourist-free winter. July and August are the months of biggest crowds and highest hotel rates. September, in the estimation of many locals, is the best month to visit.

Where to stay: A high-end option is the Hotel Cavo Tagoo (telephone 011-30-289-23692, fax 011-30-289-24923), a 72-room complex with pool and restaurant built in an old quarry half a mile outside town and 50 yards from the nearest beach. Rates for a double room run about $110-$230 nightly depending on the date and the room. The Hotel Lito (tel. 011-30-289-22207, fax 011-30-289-23985), less lavish but in town with a substantial garden and waterfront views, offers double rooms for about $90-$115, again depending on the date. Many more Spartan lodgings are available for less. If you’re traveling without reservations, you can find an island-wide selection of lodgings listed at a pair of reservations rooms in the unnamed low building nearest the dock where passengers disembark from the ferry. (In this article, exchange rates are calculated at 210 drachmas per dollar.)

Where to eat: All along the waterfront stand tavernas offering the same pleasant range of seafood fare. For a fancier dinner and French overtones, Chez Katrine in the center of town offers dinner entrees for $7-$25. Nearby, Le Cathedrale offers dinner entrees $6-$11. Taverna Antonini, on Plateia Manto Mavrogenous by the town’s main taxi stand, offers solid fare with entrees up to about $10.

For more information: Greek National Tourist Organization, 611 West 6th St., Suite 2198, Los Angeles 90017, tel. (213) 626-6696.