by Sofia Kioroglou
Swathed in silky aquamarine waters, far-flung, butterfly-shaped. Astypalea, the bank of Gods, is my ultimate escape from the scurry and scramble of bustling Athens. With a frozen piña colada, I behold the rugged beach fringed in gas-blue waters, not holding out much hope of sighting a mermaid. While snorkeling, I discover an idyllic watery chest laden with sea anemones, shells and barnacles on some boat’s hull. I can also see some sea urchins conversing with each other, their spines threatening to inflict pain on the unsuspecting wader.
Under the scorching sun, hilltop Hora, is now a hazy tumble of bleached-white houses that cascade amphitheatrically down from the medieval fortress to the fishing port of Skala where I find myself beachbumming with Peter and our little cute poodle barking elegantly at the gentle lap of the sea against its paws, wagging its tail impishly with eyes glinting in…
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