A 50-minute boat ride from the selfie-stick crowds of Santorini, Folegandros might just be the most divine Greek island you’ve never heard of.

On Sunday evening in Chora, men in pale white vests sit on plastic chairs playing backgammon; leathery-skinned peasants saddle up on sleepy donkeys; and old ladies in colorful aprons rub dry thyme between their palms.

Folegandros is the Greece of the past, where wild goats eat their way through barren fields, octopuses hang from washing lines and Yia Yias (Greek grandmothers) wipe their feet while throwing handfuls of vomit onto the streets for stray cats.

The island, which measures just eight miles by two miles, cherishes its ancient traditions dating back to 3,000 BC. Children are taught how to build and maintain the stone walls, and each family is responsible for the upkeep of one of the island’s 65 incense-filled Greek Orthodox churches.

What makes it extra special is that the island, with its bright white houses and domed churches, high cliffs, volcanic landscapes and outrageous sunsets, is not much different from Santorini. Only there is hardly anyone there.

The population is 600. There is no airport or cruise terminal. Parasols and sunbeds are prohibited on beaches. Electricity didn’t arrive until 1974 (and some parts of the island are still off-grid — relying on solar panels and generators).

Unspoilt: During a tour of Folegandros, Harriet Sime walks along a zigzag path to the 17th-century church of Panagia (in photo)

The first car rolled off a ferry in 1984. And the first tourists (four British girls in miniskirts, according to locals) arrived only in 1964.

Suffice it to say that Folegandros has kept a low profile, long reduced to just a few sentences in guidebooks. While 2.8 million tourists flock to Santorini during the high season, Folegandros receives 50,000.

Our base is Gundari, the island’s first five-star hotel, located on top of high volcanic cliffs in the southeast.

It opened last month. Set in 80 hectares on the south-east coast of the island, Gundari (meaning ‘rocky place’) has 27 suites and villas, all with sun-heated infinity pools and rustic oak interiors with cream walls, brown linen and unpolished marble floors . Nothing distracts from the view of the endless Aegean Sea. It is the brainchild of Australian marketing magnate Ricardo Larriera, who stumbled upon Folegandros in 2018.

Harriet enjoys swimming in the clear turquoise water. Above, Agail Beach

Chora, the island’s main town, is where ‘locals eat plates of rice-stuffed peppers in tavernas’

‘Why do it?’ I ask as I follow him through the hotel. “Because I’m crazy,” he says with a broad smile. But Gundari is a triumph and has been respectfully and carefully designed with local limestone so that it blends into the dramatic landscape and is invisible from the coast.

One afternoon we drive along the only main road that runs through the entire island to Chora, the main town. There the locals eat plates of rice-stuffed peppers in tavernas and visit boutiques selling linen jumpsuits and silver jewelry.

We meet Poly, a guide, in one of the city’s many whitewashed squares. She recently moved back from Athens to the island with her husband, Nicos, who speaks little English but comes along for the tour anyway.

“I am a donkey,” he says, his eyes twinkling as Poly hands him her backpack and we set off on a zigzag path to the 17th-century church of Panagia, stopping along the way to see the graves where Poly’s mother and brother are buried and to admire the view.

Harriet is staying at Gundari, pictured here, the island’s first five-star hotel, which opened last month

Above, local farmers use donkeys to travel around the island of Folegandros

We find the priest sitting in the shade of a tree. He is dressed in black from head to toe, with a long gray beard that must reach his stomach when he is standing. Poly says that he is famous on the island for his drinking and smoking habits, and that he is the only one allowed to ride his moped to church.

The next morning we hop on a boat to explore quiet coves that look as if they’ve been bitten out of the cliff. I dive off the boat and swim to an outcrop of crystallized marble rocks that paint the sea a bright turquoise. It’s so clear I can see the color of the varnish on my toes as I stand in chest-deep water.

We spend our last evening in Santorini. We’re based at Andronis Luxury Suites, a glamorous hotel with private pools and cavernous terraces in Oia, the much-photographed whitewashed village that clings to the volcanic cliffs.

The streets are packed with tourists with selfie sticks and flying drones, while women struggle over the cobblestone steps in high heels and tight dresses.

My advice? Spend a night in chic Santorini and travel to Folegandros, where you will discover the real Greece.