I wanted to see sun burnt fisherman hauling a boat load of fresh fish from the Aegean Sea at 6 am. I wanted fat old Greek men drinking ouzo and yelling “OPA!” in a grungy tavern. I’ve eaten Belgium chocolate in the fairytale streets of Bruges.Īfter my fair share of picture-perfect DLD’s, I wanted the real deal for my trip to Greece. I’ve visited Morocco’s oh-so “ bluetiful” Chefchaouen. Now, I’ve ridden gondolas in Venice‘s tiny water alleys. They are always perfectly maintained, overrun by tourists and every local speaks English. NOUN. A ridiculously gorgeous travel destination that you’ve probably seen photos of in guide books, calendars and in my case, Greek diners. OPA! However, after fantasizing about that ever-so-famous picture of Santorini, I realized that that’s actually not the Greece I longed for. This past August, I finally had the opportunity to get there. Edited, original via flickr Mengeįast fast forward 12 years summer 2016. I remember like it was yesterday 12-year-old mini Casiedilla, devouring spanakopita and baklava at my local Greek diner, while gazing starry-eyed at the huge picture of Santorini plastered across the wall. Before I even understood the concept of a “travel bucket list”, Greece was my numero 1. Instead, I went to the far, far removed island of Crete and spent my time exploring the teeny tiny 200 person fishing villages and tucked away mountain towns.Įver since I was a little nugget, I’ve dreamed of going to Greece.
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