It’s sunday morning and I’m laying on the pristine white beach of cape firiplaka, the aqua waters of the mediterranean sprawled out before me. Behind me rises a wall of rock, and beyond that a dusty road leading inland.
This is the tiny island of milos, about 100 miles southeast of mainland greece. Yesterday we arrived on a slow ferry from fabulous santorini where we marveled at the spectacular views at oia and lounged on the black sand beaches of kamari.
Every night we sleep facing the sea in simple rooms inside idyllic whitewashed houses with blue shutters and doors. In santorini, our host, a tiny older greek woman, made us coffee and bread each morning and kissed us goodbye when we departed on the fourth day.
Each night we dine on fresh bread, greek salads and seafood under the stars. In the fishing village of pollonia on milos we watch the octopus drying in the sun all day before it is served cooked in olive and drenched with lemon. The wine is always flowing, and the waiters never want you to leave your table, keeping your glass full late into the night.
We rise early each morning, awakened by the sun rising and spilling in through the open windows and doors, stopping at the bakery for fresh village bread before hopping in the tiny red volkswagon we rented to explore the 70+ beaches of milos, coined “the island of colors.”
In athens we explored the acropolis and other ancient wonders, thrilled to achieve such proximity to history, and we dined in the crowded squares amongst the bustling city dwellers. However, these greek isles are the reason we flew thousands of miles to the mediterranean: to swim in the aegean sea, to spend every moment in the fresh air, lounging all day under the sun and all night dining and sleeping beneath the moon.
I imagined I’d be writing more here, but instead I’ve been journaling by hand, reflecting on the days in a small bound notebook, taking photos of everything that inspires me…and I’ll share it all when I return.
Until then, ‘yasas!’ – to your health! and all my best…