My sweet sweet Milos

Words couldn’t begin to describe the magic that your island brought to my soul. I could give you a rundown of all the things there are to do or see in Milos, but I only read about most of them in a guidebook. I left our little fishing village of Firopotamos Beach (and in case you are wondering the S at the end is silent so while it looks like it does, it doesn’t exactly rhyme with hippopotamus) just twice in the last four days; once to go to the Health Center (more on that racket later) and the other to catch the Ferry back to the mainland. I’m sure the restaurants and other beaches are lovely, but why leave when I had all that I needed right outside my front door. We stayed in a “syrmata”. A syrmata is a fisherman’s dwelling most usually carved into the rock walls. I think in America, we’d call this a garage for your boat. The top floor was typically for fisherman to have a rest after pulling in their catch and boat before walking back home. In the mid 20^th century when swimming became more popular the families began to use them as weekend residences and now converted summer homes. This quaint fishing village of around 20 homes catches your eye from the moment you make the steep decent from the road. The colorful homes, the crystal clear blue water and the one church high upon the hill bring your eyes to sensory overload. Can a place really be this beautiful? If I blinked would I wake up and find out it had all been a dream I’ve been keeping in my heart for years now?

I guess in this case, dreams do come true. For four days I barely left my swimsuit, never put on makeup and only brushed my hair once when it was time to go back to Athens. There is something so magical about being perfectly content doing nothing. It’ s not as if I just lay there in my costume all day, I did do things. There was swimming, and jumping off rocks, laying in the hammock, sleeping in, napping on the beach and eating. I guess any of those things could be done somewhere else too, but when you look up and take a look around as to where you are doing these everyday things, they seem to carry so much more weight.

 

 

 

 

 

My trip to Milos didn’t go off without a hitch. When I arrived in Milos I had been suffering from a toothache for the last few days. I didn’t want to believe that I was having tooth problems on vacation and never mind in the middle of nowhere. Turns out, my denial lost out to the pain that first afternoon in Milos and I found myself at the Health Center. I had no idea what to expect, but when I walked in I was greeted by a nice gentleman and asked to wait in empty but very clean waiting room. After being ushered inside to speak to the doctor (I mean I think she was a doctor) we

began a game of “Where does it hurt.” In the end it was an infection and she prescribed me some antibiotics. She warned me to drink lots of water and also to use sun protection.   You should have seen me trying to convince her that I’m always wearing sunscreen. I guess if you took one look at my skin tone right now you’d never think I was a 50SPF every 80 minutes gal. It must be the Greek in me. With my prescription in hand, I walked back to the front desk to offer my payment. I honestly had no clue how much it would be, but felt whatever the price, having the possibility of freedom from pain in my future would make the cost all worthwhile. When I got there the gentleman working the desk looked at me weird and asked, “What you need?” After telling him I needed to pay he said, “No, it’s free.” What the?? Free Health Care? This was my lucky day. As we walked over to the pharmacy across the road, my luck changed a little bit. Apparently you should not get sick or need a prescription during the hours of siesta because “Sorry we’re Closed”. After finding a café that wasn’t asleep, I sat around for a few hours, may have taken a siesta of my own on their couch and soon enough was in the hands of some Amoxil. Best 4 dollars and 20 cents I’ve spent all trip. Yup, even the prescription was cheaper than my own copay.

 

We decided that we’d go to the market and pick up some things so we could essentially make our own meals and never have to leave. While here we survived on pretty much the same meals everyday; eggs, Pita and some sort of meat in the morning and Pita, cucumbers, feta, some meat and tomatoes in the evening. I did not do the tomatoes. I’m more of

a tomatoes as needed kind of person (i.e. salsa, sauce, ketchup). Once in a while, we’d get wild and have Pita with peanut butter for a late afternoon snack! I think of all the times I’ve said, “No I don’t want that I just had that last night or two days ago” and here I was relishing in the fact that I was getting to eat the same thing over and over again.

 

Not all the homes in Firopotamos beach are renovated or rented out. It would appear that many of the original owners and families still reside there. During the day, the Greek men would work on their homes. In the afternoons, you could find them sitting outside or taking a swim with their wives. Sometimes in the evenings the couple at the end of our “block” would go over to the cliffs to fish together, but not sitting together. I happened to spy them sitting on their respective corners one night and then watched them walk home together with their catch. Our next-door neighbor, George was never at a loss for a smile or a helping hand. George saw us eating on the beach one night with our plates in our laps and he came out and put a nice table in front of us to use. Sometimes little tourist boats would come into our harbor and upon their arrival, one of the gentleman in the neighborhood would get out his Conch and blow a welcome as well as goodbye as they left. We were blessed to have two very caring people from Firopotamos that checked on us and made sure we had anything we needed. Desy and her husband even found me a dentist in case things got really bad with my tooth. I hope they come to the States someday so I can return the favor. It was noticeably different how few people spoke English on this island in comparison to the others and it was quite lovely. We resorted to my broken Greek go to phrases, context and gestures. In the end I think we all did ok.

 

In Santorini, I checked donkey ride up the Caldera off my bucket list and in Milos I knocked Rock/Cliff jumping off my list. It was a perfect swim out to the rocks, but a not so perfect way to get up to jump off. It was like slippery rock climbing and I have zero upper body strength. I ended up resorting to using my legs and scratching the hell out my hands and knees. I looked at my hands and thought if I’m jumping off more than once, there has got to be a better way up. There wasn’t really but thejumping and the diving off made me forget those cuts were even there. We floated around the rocks for bit longer and came across a gentlemen snorkeling out there. Per usual he asked us where we were from. I finally

stopped answering the States because that seemed to be already stated in the way we spoke. The gentleman asked us to guess where he was from and wouldn’t you know he was from Cape town, South Africa, last year’s summer of Shanley destination. Our new friend Mano reminded me a lot of Rodney Dangerfield. I made a comment about it being warmer in certain spots and Mano popped right back into our conversation and shared, “Must be where I wee’d a bit!”  He was showing us different fish and I exclaimed how cool it was to look upside down in the water with the mask on. Rodney took it amongst himself to tell me “Oh it’s great this way” and then flip my body in the water. Oh ok, I guess we are going there??

 

I had a small goal to run in each of my destinations. Personally, I think you have more chances to explore on foot. So far I’d managed to run twice in Athens, twice in Crete and once in Santorini. Our beach while and oasis, it was not very runner friendly. The roads were super narrow and it was quite the trek to get up and out of the beach. One afternoon, I decided I would hike out and then run once I was up in the village. I found some running partners in the goats. At first, they looked at me very

suspiciously, but soon enough we all got into our own rhythm. Yoga with Goats is a thing, why not running with the goats. When I returned to our home our neighbor to the left was out doing some more maintenance on his syrmata.   I gave him a quick Kalíspera as I caught my breath and he gave me a shrug and a quick smirk. I couldn’t tell if it was a “hey good for you” or a “whatever floats your boat girlie” kind of smirk, but I liked the encouragement all the same.

 

 

On our last morning at the beach, we had our usual breakfast of Eggs, Pita, and cheese on the beach. For most of breakfast and a good time after none of us said anything. We just stared out to those blue waters of the Aegean that had brought us so much joy these last few days. It was if we’d come to the point in a relationship where neither of you can find a good reason why it’s ending but you know it needs to and you don’t want to say anything to make the first move in leaving because once you do, you know that it’s really over.

 

It was no coincidence that the home we stayed in was given the name Paradise. Milos is not necessarily one of the more popular tourist destinations, as they do not rely on tourism like some of other islands do for their income. But I would say that if you are going to Greece and you wanted to get as close to what I think heaven would be, I suggest you find yourself in a fishing village in a cute syrmata to soak up all that Milos has to offer. You can thank me later!

 

I was definitely the saddest leaving Milos. I know that I have to not be sad that it’s over, but happy for the time I had. I am but I can’t help but have a few quiet tears for having to be the first to walk away from this newfound love of mine. I will see you again Milos… Kápoia Méra. (That’s “Someday” for all you non Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants fans;)