Wednesday, August 1, 2012

With the salt on your back

[For Part I -- Milos: the alleys, wander over here.]

This is why I nearly boarded an international flight in a bikini.
There is nostalgia to the sun on your back and the sea in your hair, the slightly damp clothes from the last dip into the Aegean. These waters are gravity to me: they envelop me in a hug I do not want to break, they pull me in and feed my reluctance to leave. The afternoon of Friday, July 27th found me on a sailboat in Milos, Greece with the Aegean sea-foam splashing onto bare legs. That evening, I was due in Athens. The next morning in Rome, the next evening in Atlanta, the morning after that in Mexico City.
This is the story of how I brought my salty hair across the world, of the Greece I carry with me.

Take the cliffs from Ein Avdad in Israel and place them in Milos, and you have Sarakiniko. Synchronicity. 


On the road to Firiplaka




Fyriplaka

Not pictured: the hike down to Tsigrado...




Through the netting of the sailboat, at different times during the day.





Approaching the cave of Sykia, whose roof has collapsed, letting the sun color the waters.


Entering the roofless cave of Sykia


Kleftiko, the former hangout of the pirate Barbarossa. More about it in my column at the Equals Record.



The last swim, with the colors as they were. I did end up leaving with the salt on my back.

For the darker side of the story of Kleftiko and the privilege of a return ticket, visit my column over at The Equals Record today

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