On our last day in Greece, we found the sweetest spot. I was there with my spouse, Denise, floating in the crescent bay of historic Monemvasia. The sky was pure blue, and the warm water so clear we could see the rounded stones lining the sea floor.
We returned to the beach, where we’d left our things at a café table perched a few feet from the calm, rolling waves. We sipped Greek wine and ate olives and herbed tzatziki, and asked ourselves the question that bookends every magical trip: Why can’t we stay here forever?
Enchantment in travel often comes from expectations exceeded. For me, Greece has been on my to-do list for as long as I can remember. Enraptured by mythology and ancient tales, I had visions of this land and Aegean waters that I’d probably idealized. I envisioned dreamy light and air, and imagined delicacies involving phyllo dough and figs, served with house-made wines and ouzo. It all seemed so tantalizing that I made myself tamp down projections to let Greece reveal itself, without my eager idealizations.
Then we arrived, boarded a clipper ship, and discovered a mixture of sights and scenes that inspired and delighted us at every port.