Imagine sleeping under the stars on a comfortable cot listening to the cicadas deafening buzz lull you to sleep while the leaves of the tree that shaded the house danced in the wind. Awakening before dawn to walk on dusty, dirt roads through the mountains hearing the bells on the goats clang like the sound of drum song. Watching the sun rise over the ocean as campers on the beach unzip their tents and go for a morning swim. Smelling wild sage in the air as the sun warmed up the already parched land. Not a cloud in the sky. The ocean, so blue, so deep and salty, they bottle it and put it on the table for dinner.
This land is wild, unfriendly to tourists. Keep an eye out for scorpions and snakes lest you disturb them if you dare go off the path into a land of prickers and thorns. It is a land of hardy people, a dying breed. Of farmers and goats, chickens and donkeys. It is a land my heart connected too so deeply. This land, it’s people, I will fondly remember as my favorite from my travels in Greece. This island, I will not tell you where it is less it be onslaught with tourists which would ruin it’s natural beauty and resources. No cell phone, no GPS tracking, totally unplugged for two weeks.
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