My Greece isn’t like your Greece… unless you’re Greek. 😋 
I get so many messages asking me where to go, what to see, what island is “best”… and I never really know how to answer. Because how do you recommend a feeling?
How do you put directions on something that lives in your bones? Do you want to come to my grandma’s village? You know that moment when you land in Greece…
The airplane doors open, and the air hits you, warm, heavy, familiar.
And before you even realize it, something inside you softens. Like your body remembers before your mind does. For me, that feeling isn’t about vacations.
It’s recognition. When I think of Greece, I don’t picture the postcards.
Not the islands, or the beaches, or the ancient ruins, even though they’re beautiful in a way that almost feels unreal. I think of the village.
Of dust on my shoes and the sound of animals in the distance.
Of meals that start in the afternoon and somehow stretch into the night.
Of hands always offering more food, even when...