There’s always one day on a trip where the wheels come off. Not dramatically. Not in a blaze of glory. Just… quietly. Like your dignity slipping out the back door while you’re face down in a pillow, bargaining with your own liver. Yesterday was that day. I’d love to tell you I was out soaking…
First things first—I’ve officially broken my own rule and I apologise. All week I’ve been smugly tapping away at these posts like some sort of disciplined, well-adjusted human being with structure and routine. And then, like all good habits, it went straight out the window the moment raki got involved. So yes—this is late. And…
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,…