Toys for the wealthy now the main source of work at yards which once employed thousands building ferries and cargo ships

In the Halkitis shipyard in Perama, the Azul dwarfs everything. Four decks tall, it is just five metres shorter in length than the 3,000-tonne cargo ships that were once the staple of the Greek yards that line the shore.

But the Azul is no cargo ship. Nor is it a ferry to shuttle tourists and workers back and forth to the islands. Instead, it is a €20m (£17m) pleasure yacht being constructed for a Croatian businessman. His brother is having a twin built, identical in all details.

In a town where unemployment last year hit 60-70%, according to a survey by the University of Piraeus, and may now be nudging 80%, it is toys of the super-rich like the Azul that are keeping a handful of shipbuilders still in work.

Apostolos Kivachelis, aged 53, the foreman on the Azul, clambers down from where a dozen or so men are rubbing down the yacht's steel.

"I've worked six months in the last two years," he says. "But I'm lucky. I know lots of other people who have not worked at all." When he does get work he helps others in his family who are unemployed – just as they help him if he is out of work. "What else can we do?" he asks with a shrug. "Sometimes the bills don't get paid for two months at a time."

In his office a little way along the waterfront Demetrios Mataxas, the president of the shipbuilders' federation in the town, emerges bare-chested.

Pulling on a shirt he sits behind a desk next to which sits an antique ship's telegraph, the large round brass dial with a handle once used to send messages to the engine room. As a metaphor of what is happening to these yards, its dial hovers between "Dead Slow" and "Stop".

Outside his window is another unfinished luxury yacht. Its owner, unlike that of the Azul, is Greek and there is no money to complete it.

"In the golden era in the 1990s there were 15,000 people in these yards. The shipbuilding supported 700-800 other companies," says Mataxas.

He shows a picture of a white double-ended roll-on roll-off ferry that his yard once built. All that is in the past.

Outside his window a handful of men are mending a large ship repair pontoon. These days that is the best hope of work – sometimes for not much longer than a week – along with the prospect of building a luxury yacht.

"In the last seven to eight years we have built 30-40 of them in these yards," he says. "It was the one area of growth, but since the economic crisis it has not increased."

Across the road from the yards stands the Yacht Cafe, decorated with baseball caps and T-shirts emblazoned with the names of ships. A magazine stand carries brochures for yachts and ferries and navigational equipment.

Inside, smoking his pipe is Antonis Ploutis, a naval architect who designs and builds some of the luxury yachts. Indeed, he explains, the unfinished project visible through Mataxas's window is one of his boats.

But if Ploutis's plans come to fruition, even this last lifeline for the several hundred yards at Perama will be taken away.

He says he is discussing with colleagues how to move the building of projects like these to the northern city of ThessalonkiThessaloniki, where it would be cheaper, or out of Greece altogether.

Even Ploutis is worried about the downturn. "It's terrible. There is no money in the market right now. Everyone is afraid to spend. The biggest problem is for Greek owners who face a lot of taxes. If I build for export it is not a problem."

Ploutis delineates the conflict in Greek society and its profound divide between the haves and the have-nots when he blames the unions for ruining the shipbuilding business.

"They make strikes and demand more money. That's why we want a shipyard in Thessaloniki. And I'm also looking at cheaper places than Greece to build my boats. Even in Thessaloniki it costs half of what it costs here. The cost of steel construction here is €7 a kilo. In Thessaloniki it's €3-€4."

The consequences for Perama's already eviscerated shipbuilding industry – which has seen two of its biggest shipyards go bust and Greek ship owners flock offshore – are not hard to fathom. It cannot survive a new blow.

Further along the waterfront, where the unemployed shipyard workers gather each morning in the hope of finding work, union members sit in their office. Akis Antoniou is offended by the notion – widely held by yard owners and builders – that the workers' high wages and demands are killing the industry.

"Many of the men here have worked only 20-30 days at most in the last two years. The main thing that is keeping the yards going now is luxury yachts. Before that our main work was cargo vessels.

"There is all this polemic aimed against us. That our salaries are too high. But the biggest daily wage in these yards is €77."

Peter Pantides, a 30-year-old ship worker who worked 23 days last year, says what many think: "It is a political decision. The government wants to destroy the heavy industry."

He explains how his family survives. "We have three houses – my own, my grandfather's and my brother's. Sometimes we survive on my grandfather's pension.

"At the moment we only have electricity for one house but we 'cheated' and have arranged to share the power. When my grandmother turns on her washing machine we don't have television in my house. We are supposed to be the 'working-class aristocracy' but I've earned €700 this year.

"My younger brother – he's 28 – he left for the country but he's got nothing to do. So he leaves the house and walks to the beach each day. If he sees a bush with berries on or figs, he picks it. Then when he goes home he says: 'Look, I've brought you sweets!' "

He sighs. "But I have to provide. Sometimes I think I'll be the last man standing." If ships like the Azul are built abroad in future that may be sooner than he fears.