The boat from Adamas takes about four and a half hours, which, after a month of Cycladic hops, felt less like a crossing and more like a commitment. I slept through a good part of it. When I came back…
The Island That Keeps Going – Crete
The Colour of the Boats – Milos
The salt finally came out in the shower at about eleven. Two days on the water and my hair had started having opinions. So today had exactly one rule, which was that nothing was going to involve a boat. Instead…
The Thieves’ Cove – Milos
The boat left Adamas at nine. A white sailing boat with a blue awning, a captain with a grey beard and a voice that carried without being raised, and a deckhand of about nineteen who did everything else, including the…
The Stone That Keeps an Edge – Milos
The catamaran from Paros left mid-morning and took a little under two hours. I spent most of it watching a boy of about six try to stand up every time the hull hit a wave, and his grandmother pull him…
The Stone That Lets the Light In – Paros
The bus to Lefkes leaves from the harbour in Parikia, and the driver calls out the stops as though each one has personally disappointed him. Five kilometres up the road he said, “Marathi.” Nobody moved. I got off. I had…
Ninety-Nine Doors – Paros
I went down to the Portara before the town was awake, because every other time I had seen it there had been somebody standing in it. The causeway was empty. A fisherman was coiling a line on the rocks below…
