The cheap airlines, like Norwegian and Ryan Air, changed the European lifestyle. Lithuanians used to travel to the Baltic Sea, and Swedes went to the Archipelago. Now, even when the summer is warm, and the local water is enticing, planeloads of Europeans fly to the south, opposing the millions of birds flying north.  I flew to Crete, mainly because I had friends to join there, and because of the ease of travel. The weather – perfect, the food – scrumptious, the accommodations and price – so comfortable, the beach – crystalline water with soft waves for body surfing.  A short trip of smiles.

Plakias is on the south side of Crete, and my friends told me repeatedly that that Northern Crete is for tourists, and the south, for locals and adventurists.  This was my first time to Greece ever, so I had no expectations.  I got a nice studio apartment for 35 Euros/night, just meters from the beach. Rather than relaxing in Plakias, we headed to Skinaria beach, which is more isolated.  Few people know of this beach, and the locals are trying to keep it secret.  There are no signs and it is not described in the tour books. To get there, one must have a car, and at times wait for the sheep and goats to cross the windy road.  The goats here are the ones that herd the sheep, replacing the traditional sheepdogs, because they are apparently equally talented at the job.  They all have metal bells that ring while they climb the hills among the olive trees.  We could see goats along the cliffs standing sentinel, overlooking us as we swam in the wavy bay.

Greek beaches have little cots to lie on that cost a few Euros/day; with interspersed umbrellas shading them. They also have small tavernas that serve food from the local gardens.  I ate zucchini flowers stuffed with spiced rice, and artichokes marinated in olive oil. The olive oil flows all over the place.  Each family has their own olive trees and their own perfection of the extra virgins. I bought a lot of olive oil, at a fraction of the California prices.  I let my body create my vitamin D.

The next day was an excursion to Rethimno and a couple delightful villages, Spili and Argyroupolis. The old town of Rethimno showcases its hundreds of cafes in narrow streets lined with bougainvilleas and other blooming flowers.  I don’t know how they can make such delicious vegan chocolate sorbet, and why we don’t get that in the USA or the north. Cats meow and languor among the tourists who inevitably give them tidbits. We buy avocado oil face creams, and light candles in the small Greek orthodox village churches. The views of the valleys and gorges can’t be accurately described by my camera.

In the morning, we hear thunder, a reminder of Zeus, and experience a short unusual burst of rain. But it clears up, and we get another beach day, plus a visit to the Preveli Monastery, where British submarines rescued stranded Allied troupes in WWII.

Where to eat dinner becomes our major problem.  We hike up above Plakias and eat at one taverna, with white bean stew and fantastic salads.  Only to find another taverna with a better view and better white bean stew the next day.  If I were turning 50 again, I would probably organize my birthday here: to invite all my friends and family to experience the friendly Cretans.