Rocabella Mykonos

With Mykonos, two things come to mind: partying and wind, though not necessarily at the same time. The Cycladic island is Greece's answer to Ibiza, but as my mid-thirties continue to slide into the later end of the decade, partying isn't as high on my agenda as it once was. Instead, I was looking for something slower, perhaps a little more like the Mykonos of 40 years ago that my in-laws reminisce about, where ferries arrived to a crowd of locals offering spare rooms.

My arrival on the island was altogether more modern, with a direct flight from London cutting out Athens or the need for a ferry, and thankfully I had my bed for the next few nights already sorted, at Rocabella Mykonos.

Mr Smith and I arrived at the hotel via a breezy 15-minute transfer from the airport. As the gates slowly opened, we saw that Rocabella is built into the hillside above Agios Stefanos beach and looks directly over the Aegean Sea. Ferries dart along the coast en route to other islands and cruise ships are anchored offshore, a real reminder of how popular Mykonos has become.

Here, we're just far enough from Mykonos Old Town (also known as the Chora) to escape the soundtrack of all-night revelry, but close enough to get lost wandering the winding tiny streets lined with boutiques, restaurants and bars when the mood strikes, via either a 45-minute walk or a short taxi ride.

Walking into reception, I feel like I've just entered a signature Frank Lloyd Wright building. Then my eyes lock onto a coffee-table book Rocabella is featured in and it makes sense that the aesthetic is so important here. Quickly, a glass of champagne is offered, which both Mr Smith and I gleefully accept.

The entire hotel is low-rise, following traditional Cycladic architecture — whitewashed sugarcube-shaped buildings with flat roofs and curved edges, designed to withstand the island's strong winds. Considering the rate at which Mykonos became a holiday hotspot, it's refreshing the boom wasn't matched with speedily built high-rise hotels.

Rocabella is glamorous, and is exceedingly good at hiding its age as it approaches the quarter-century mark, as if it has been smugly using anti-ageing creams decades before it needed to even think about it. Following a refurb in 2025, it looks and feels entirely brand new. There are 26 rooms and suites, and one three-bedroom villa, plus a small spa with a concrete Jacuzzi, a gym providing motivation through incredible sea views, and a poolside bar and restaurant.

Mr Smith and I are taken on a quick tour of the hotel by the upbeat manager, Faye, and it soon becomes clear that 'Of course, no problem' is her mantra. Throughout our stay, she appeared everywhere at once, greeting arrivals, arranging transport and recommending restaurants.

Our bright, calm suite (number 15) mirrors the hotel's curved Cycladic architecture across its two rooms, with the bed sitting on a raised platform of smooth off-white concrete, looking out to sea. The separate lounge is dominated by the L-shaped sofa and the not-touched-once TV, but outside offers even more. It's almost a disservice to call it just a terrace, as it fits a round table and chairs, and some built-in seating, and around the corner (yes, there's a corner) is an unheated plunge pool. Not quite hidden from the view of others, but more importantly, it overlooks the sea.

Dinner that evening at the hotel's restaurant Reeza was one of the highlights of our stay. We shared a selection from the Med-inspired menu: baba ganoush with whipped tahini and crispy Jerusalem artichokes, a stand-out sea-bass sashimi with orange vinaigrette, and rigatoni with courgette, feta, lemon and mint, along with Greek wines that were so good, I was immediately annoyed I'd brought the smallest of bags with me and couldn't take a bottle or two home. 

Deciding we needed to see more of the island, we enlisted Faye, who lived up to her 'no problem' motto and found a solution for us to avoid the island's overly inflated taxi prices: a scooter. At €35 for the day, it allowed us to easily see the quieter parts of Mykonos without taking out a bank loan. Battling the fierce winds on the main roads, Mr Smith scooted us inland to the little village of Ano Mera, where we stopped for lunch at a farm-to-table restaurant called Rizes. We ordered platters of local cheeses, cured meats and the most delicious slow-cooked lamb, served with garlic-drenched chips. The afternoon was lazily spent at the sandy bay of Agios Sostis before we cooled off with drinks at Kiki's Tavern.

On our final morning, we lounged around in a cabana by the hotel pool, before catching a ferry to another island. At the port, there was a distinct gear-shift from poolside lounging to navigating the chaotic choreography of arriving ferries, departing passengers and reversing lorries that's both totally disorganised yet incredibly efficient.

As our ferry departed from the harbour, I was glad to have experienced the laidback version of Mykonos I was looking for, with slow afternoons, long, quiet lunches and beaches without sunloungers.