Day 4 in Dalyan didn’t come in hot. No chaos. No grand plans. No heroic cultural ambitions. Just heat, a pool, and the slow, creeping realisation that doing absolutely nothing might be the most productive thing I’ve done all year. We parked ourselves by the pool like two overfed cats and committed to the art…
There’s a very specific kind of arrogance that sets in when a flight is going well. You’ve boarded without incident. No one has argued about overhead luggage. No one has removed their shoes and committed crimes against humanity. You’ve got a drink in hand and, in a moment of wildly misplaced optimism, you start a…
There are days when you wake up in Crete and think, “Yes, I will go to a former leper colony today.” And then there are days when you actually do it. Day seven was that kind of day. I started the morning finishing The Island — a novel about Spinalonga that makes your heart feel…
Filed under: poolside drama and dinner redemption There’s something magical about a lazy day in Crete. You wake up, pretend you’re going to be productive, and then immediately slide into a sun-warmed lounger like a seasoned professional. No guilt. Just SPF, smugness, and a vague plan to maybe move later. Day five was supposed to…