The long-suffering dream of upgrading the port of Black Limnóna in Chóra Sfakíon has finally inched — not marched — its way into the next phase. After 4.5 years, 42 separate approvals, and a bureaucratic journey that could qualify as an Olympic endurance event, the study for the “new port” is officially complete.
Should we applaud?
Should we cry?
Should we send flowers to the families who lost loved ones during the approval process?
Because baby, in Greece, finishing the study is treated like the Second Coming.
For the record, this is a port the local community has been begging for twenty years — two full decades of hopes, promises, political speeches, and occasional shoulder shrugs. And today’s great announcement is:
“The study is ready.”
My condolences.
A Study That Survived More Than Most Governments
According to Dimitris Virirakis, president of the Chania Port Fund, the study endured a heroic saga before reaching completion. It passed through layers of checks, counterchecks, technical additions, environmental reviews, and enough institutional signatures to wallpaper a small village.
Let us pause here:
Forty-two approvals.
Not 10.
Not 20.
Not even 30.
Forty-two.
At this point, the port study is not a document — it is a spiritual journey.
And like all great Greek public works, it survived everything except actual construction:
environmental objections, political quarrels, local rivalries, and the ever-present threat of being kicked out of the funding line entirely.
Fifteen Million Euros for a Port That Exists Only in Imagination
Come on!!!! The project now moves toward tendering, with a budget of roughly €15 million — money that already exists on paper, which is the safest place money can exist in Greece.
The study itself was funded in 2021 for €270,000, and since then it has been on a pilgrimage through ministries, sub-committees, environmental councils, and assorted public agencies whose job descriptions remain a mystery.
And now that it is finally approved?
We celebrate a drawing.
A PDF.
A plan.
Not concrete.
Not cranes.
Not progress.
A plan.
My condolences.
Environmental Objections, Micro-Politics, and the Greek Tradition of Making Everything Harder
The project nearly fell apart multiple times due to environmental objections, rivalries, and disputes that would exhaust even the most patient monk. Counter-measures from the University of the Aegean forced a complete redesign — which is wonderful for sustainability and catastrophic for timelines.
Meanwhile, micro-political games played quietly in the background, with each faction protecting its tiny patch of influence, as if a port is not the one thing the entire community needs to survive.
But Wait — We Have Diavgeia Screenshots!
The Diavgeia entries confirm the project’s approval path, which is adorable, because Greece is the only place where screenshots of bureaucratic steps are presented like newborn photos.
Look, here is Approval #17 — so cute!
And here is #34 — it finally opened its eyes!
And #42 — we should frame it.
The Renderings Look Great, If We Ignore Reality
The first images show a modern port that promises safety, functionality, and tourism growth.
Wonderful.
Photogenic.
Elegant.
But baby, renders always look amazing.
If Greek public works were built as quickly as Greek renderings are released, the entire country would be Dubai with better cheese.
Local Community: Still Waiting, Still Hoping
Now that the study is “mature,” the community of southern Crete waits yet again, hoping that the next announcement will be something more meaningful than:
“We are preparing the tender documents.”
People want bulldozers.
They want workers.
They want the first stone.
They want the port that was promised when half the current population was still in primary school.
Until then, all they have is a study that took nearly half a decade and approvals that could bankrupt a printer.
Our condolences.
You heard it from Argophilia — where we tell the truth, no matter how difficult, inconvenient, or absurd it may be.