The Aegean Dispatch: Part 2/3
The island that doesn't change
You made it out of Athens. Which wasn’t an easy goodbye.
Now you are on a ferry. A two and a half hour trip from Piraeus, no airport at the other end, nothing to do but watch the Aegean pass and think about the island ahead that is waiting for you.
Not the one with a hundred sunburnt strangers pointing cameras at a sunset that has been photographed into meaninglessness. Not the one with the noisy beach clubs, where plates are smashed and the napkins are waved.
Rather, the island that still cooks its own food. That has a 99 year old coffee shop run by a man called Dimitri (who is not planning any renovations). That has been throwing its own clay for three thousand years. Where dinner starts slow and ends late and the wine list is Greek and the owner watches from underneath his portrait on the wall.
How to explore: on a scooter, the wind in your linen shirt, the Aegean on every side. The land equivalent of sailing your own ship.
Where to sleep: a cliffside hotel with goats on the hillside at aperitivo hour, and a pool suite perched above the sea.
Where to eat: a taverna in Vathi with slow-cooked meats and a beautiful view, a stone cove below the castle where dinner arrives in courses and every ingredient came from within walking distance.
Where to drink: a ninety-nine-year-old coffee shop and a wine bar in Kastro with natural bottles and a view over the sea.
What to pack: four pairs of shoes, two linen jackets, and the willingness to wear the same white trousers three evenings in a row.
This is the second part of The Aegean Dispatch.
