And it wasn’t even summer!

Travel story

February 4, 2015 - Experience deposit by Byron Ayanoglu.

Last night the full moon rose at sunset like always, but this time, just for me. I had come out to the terrace to upright a chair that the wind had knocked, and it was there just above the horizon, silver-pink and huge, like an extra-extra-large pizza pie, shedding its trembling light on the Homeric sea that stretched out from me to infinity.
Early this morning, I got the call. Yiannis the fisherman had rolled in with his catch. I quickly left the views, the serenity, the articulated comforts of the delightful Loutra-house-on-the-hill. To rush down to the jetty and pick up a kilo of gopes (large whitebait) and an entire palamida (bonito tuna), so that I could return home to my coffee, already dreaming of tonight's fish dinner. Salivating.
Around twelve noon (aka locally as the crack of dawn), I drove along the edge of several cliffs to Chora, an ancient town clinging to the mountainside; to as many of its traditions as it can; to its aching beauty. I walked the manicured streets alongside sheer-white, very Cycladic adobe homes, and in the square, dominated by a giant adobe church and some shy municipal buildings, I had a coffee (double-size, medium-sugar: diplo-metrio).
The sun peeked through, the whites whiter, the grays now metallic blue, the brown and floral balconies intenser yet in contrast. I had to tear myself away, it was all so astonishingly bright, so picture-postcard perfect, so nostalgic of my joyride-youth, the best moments of which were carved out of similar magic in this quadrant of the Aegean.
It was time to shop, the reason for coming to Chora in the first place. I bought farm-fresh mini broccoli, a tub of kopanisti (crushed, aged goat-cheese), a jar of thyme-honey, large, sunrise-yolked eggs from this morning, cheese pies in olive-oil dough crusted with roasted seeds, and for old times' sakes, a few amygdolata (soft, rose-scented almond cookies), with which I used to sweeten sleeping-bag nights on the beaches of Mykonos.
I rushed home right after, to eat a lunch of eggs and cheese, sitting view-side in the sunshine, listening to Chopin.
Wish you were here
Love and kisses


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