The Greek islands in April were an escape from the mainland without the crowds – a paradise of crystalline waters and quiet corners that felt like our own.
Mykonos was our first stop, where we found whitewashed buildings complemented by pops of greenery underneath an eternally blue sky. In a maze of winding streets we passed sunbathing puppies, traditional bakeries and tiny flower gardens tucked behind wrought-iron fences. But our every turn seemed to lead to the water’s edge, where rows of windmills spun gently in the sea breeze.
As our ferry pulled into the port at Santorini, a single road materialised into view. Following its course we arrived at a village, where azure-capped villas clung to the hilltop, as though afraid of tumbling into the sea.
Finally we ventured to Crete, finding our home in the ancient town of Rethymno, where the air became thick each night with the scent of grilled meat. One evening we sat down to a late dinner, and were serenaded by a string band performing traditional songs. Our neighbouring diners knew every last word.
by: Michelle Norris and Forrest Aguar, courtesy of suitcasemag.com
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