Crete, you magnificent, sandy beast. You know it’s time to leave when the island itself starts coughing you out like a goat hacking up a hairball of raki-soaked tourists and dead sea urchins. Day 10 in Crete, and Mother Nature decided to throw a party of her own. Not the good kind with souvlaki, retsina,…
Crete, Day 9: The scorched-earth buffet and the redhead meatball whisperer Let me tell you something: nothing quite says Greek island holiday like waking up to a full-blown Saharan tactical assault. Yes, that fine layer of African sand that’s drifted across continents only to settle lovingly in my sinuses, cling to every surface like a…
I woke up today with a hangover so biblical, I half-expected to find stone tablets on the bedside table and a burning bush in the bathroom. The aftermath of yesterday’s ouzo debauchery had settled deep into my bones — the kind of hangover that makes you question all your life choices, your belief in hydration,…
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…
The day began the way all perfect Mediterranean holidays should: with the Earth violently convulsing beneath your bed like it’s trying to shake you out of your sins. At exactly 6:19 a.m., Mother Nature—in all her ancient Cretan fury—delivered a 6.1 magnitude wake-up call. No snooze button. No apologies. Just a solid reminder that you…