It’s Marvellous What a Difference Milos Makes
Before we went to bed last night we packed up in preparation for our early flight this morning. It was a gorgeous day in Corfu but again, at 7:30 in the morning -on a weekday- it was absolutely and totally deserted. If we didn’t know better, we’d have sworn the inhabitants of Corfu had been abducted by aliens. Either that or we were emerging post apocalypse. Our taxi driver snapped us back to reality assuring us they were all still there…”jahz slipping”. Airport-bound, we lamented the fact we were leaving so soon, but, not wanting to undertake any more frenzied dashes to the gate, this time we allowed ourselves plenty of time before check-in. Our two-leg journey had us starting in the back row of our little propeller plane to Athens. We may have been last to get our rations - a tiny little Greek biscuit and cup of water - but we were first off, so that was an added bonus. The next plane was even smaller - the tiny-biscuit cart not even fitting up the aisle on this one - and before we knew it, we were touching down on the beautiful Cycladic island of Milos, pronounced “Mee-loss”, (not “Mee-losh” as Ross likes to call it and also not to be confused with a certain chocolatey-malty kind of drink - though every time I see the name written, I get thirsty).
With a rich history, dating back to 7000BC, that includes pirates, invasions, refugees, rule and occupation by everyone from Egypt and Russia to Italy and Turkey, Milos is fascinating. Arts and crafts obviously run in the blood here, as Miloans were once world leaders in tool-making, and the island has also produced the famous statues of Poseidon and Venus de Milo (hence the name). Venus wasn’t unearthed until 1820 and, much to the irritation of the Miloans, now resides in the Louvre in France. It is believed this famous lady may have lost her arms in an ancient tug’o’war between French and Turkish soldiers on the beach here in Milos. That sounds painful.
Our Airbnb host had arranged for us to pick-up a car when we arrived, so we took to the narrow roads, not really knowing what to expect. With Ross’ capable hands firmly on the wheel we soon discovered Milos is pretty fast and loose when it comes to road rules. Everyone drives a tiny car, just so there’s enough room to pass on the skinny little streets and in order to avoid the many obstacles that may be thrust in front of you at any given moment. Quad bikes, scooters and mopeds abound and dart all over the place, with cars often stopping at random in the middle of the road to either let people out or to park (yes, you heard it right). Parking is a free-for-all and it’s quite disconcerting having cars parked facing the wrong way, making you think you are on the wrong side of the road.
We had another spy-like rendezvous planned today. “Meet me at the cafe at the top of the hill”, Agent Kyriakos had told us. “I’ll be the one wearing black”. Facing a gridlock as we approached the top of the aforementioned hill (a woman abandoning her car for a sec while she took a browse in the shops no doubt) Rossco wound down his window to ask a friendly local where we should go. The friendly local was actually Apostoles, a representative of Agent Kyriakos, (who must’ve been off on some other covert operation). What are the chances? (And he wasn’t even wearing black). He said to Ross: “you must be Sarah Jones”. Close enough. As Apostoles led us down a myriad of lanes with more twists and turns than an Agatha Christie novel. I realised I should’ve been dropping breadcrumbs as we went. I’d never find my way out of here.
The neighbourhood of Plaka was stunning! Whitewashed, boxes with vivid blue shutters and doors, undulating vines and pots of bright geraniums offering stark pops of colour against all the white. As we turned the corner towards our place, we both gaped open-mouthed at the view before us. Uninterrupted sea views to die for. Just wow. The wow factor continued with the house. It is gorgeous! You can lie in bed and gaze out through the flowy white curtains of the little French doors, at the deep blue Aegean! The house itself is pretty compact - really just two rooms - one downstairs and the other up, with a spiral staircase leading up to the bedroom. What really makes it though, is the massive front terrace. We couldn’t believe it was all ours!
Changing into some cooler clothes we made the most of the sunshine and stepped out into the glare with cameras in tow; to get our bearings and marvel at the beauty of this place. Being the very start of the summer season, some shops and restaurants are yet to open, giving it a beautiful, quiet, relaxing vibe. Though not swarming with tourists, the few we’ve met have been French and all lovely.
Taking to the roads once again, we passed fields of bright yellow, red and purple wildflowers - so pretty! Foreign street signs are always fun and Milos delivered the goods todaty. We noticed some displaying nothing but a giant exclamation mark, perhaps to keep you on your toes, engaging you in a kind of danger-spotting guessing game. Signs also announced the presence of sheep and goats though we didn’t see any. We did spot a few paddocks full of hay but completely devoid of animals. Milos really is an island of intrigue.
A quick Google search of Milos will inevitably take you to magnificent lunar-like landscape photos of Sarakiniko Beach. Bright white volcanic rocks and caves - so unique - and when contrasted with the vibrant blue of the Grecian sky, mirror and perhaps inspire, the blue and white colour scheme of the surrounding houses. I felt like I was in a scene from Star Wars as we wandered over the surreal and incredible landscape. Descending towards the sea, the faint thumping of doof-doof got louder as a big group of young adults (I’m sounding like an old woman now) had the boom box blaring, urging us to “point your fingers if you are a raver”. It was a veritable cliff-top dance party. Girls and guys were jumping off the high cliff to plunge into the emerald waters below, where they could swim through a cave and pop back out the other side. Fun for all ages.
Behind the cliff was a spectacular inlet, perfect for swimming. Unfortunately, I’d left my swimmers in the car - a LONG way back up the hill - so we didn’t take the plunge. We think we’ll come again tomorrow.
Passing a lady toting a big net, I attempted to strike up some friendly chat but soon sensed the language barrier between us was cavernous. Instead, I employed my best sign language skills to ask if she was catching butterflies or fish. Despite my stellar impressions of both creatures, she remained bemused and just said nothing, staring at me blankly.
As we approached the car at the top of the hill, Rossco was chatting to me when mid-sentence, he said “oh wow” and shaded his eyes with his hand. The very beautiful French girl standing at the car next to ours had just whipped her top off without warning. Nothing like a bit of unexpected nudity to spice up your day. The nudist remained completely unfazed.
After exploring the island a little more, we opted for an early dinner on the water in the little seaside village of Adamas, so we’d make it back to our place in time to watch the sunset. The restaurant we dined at was called Nostos and we were given the option to go inside and select a fish, which they would then lovingly prepare for our consumption. I’d envisaged a tankful of fish, merrily swimming around until their number was up. “Nemo, you’re up”. Ross, having gone in to make his selection, assured me they were all already well and truly dead and displayed in pull-out ice drawers. He picked out a golden grouper. Once it was cooked, it was placed on a big wooden tray on a fold-up table next to us, so we could watch the young waiter skilfully manoeuvre his spoon and knife to meticulously remove the entire skeleton, right before our eyes. It was amazing and obviously wasn’t his first rodeo.
Ross, who loves to sample a local ale when we are travelling, ordered himself a beer from the ‘Ammousa Hellenic Artisanal Brewery’. It sounded promising but alas tasted terrible. Had he read it before sipping, the blurb on the back of the can may have offered fair warning: “this beer is utterly combined with roasted meat”. Lost in translation? We hope so.
After our scrumptious meal, we made it back to our place in perfect timiing to watch the sunset. We invited a French couple and another young tourist from Toulouse to join us on our terrace (it really is too good not to share) and we all stood to witness the last golden glow of the sun as it slid down behind the island, bidding us ‘antio sas” for the night.
