Skiathos, Greece 2021

After shuffling out of the tiny airport we crawled into a tiny Nissan Versa that was delivered by the all-too-friendly Hertz representative who went by Tim (his full name was unpronounceable for us non-Greeks. We pulled up our mapping app and headed out on the tiny roads of Skiathos, swerving around scooters and potholes. Our digital guide took us straight up the mountain, including an 18° rutted incline that made the engine squeal and the whole car shake. We all leaned forward and prayed that the little engine could make it. After that first harrowing drive up the hill nearly everything else went according to plan. (If we don’t count the jellyfish stings I endured on my first swim.) For two weeks we enjoyed ourselves on Skiathos, an island made famous for the scenes of Mama Mia! that were filmed there.

The reason for the extravagant trip was my mom’s 60th birthday, which we celebrated in style on a chartered sailboat adventure around Skiathos’ neighboring islands. Our captain Stefanos, a wisecracking local to Skiathos who hates Mamma Mia!, motored us from his home port of Skiathos Town east to a small cove on the eastern side of Arkos. He outfitted us with snorkeling gear and kicked us off the boat for 45 minutes of underwater exploration. After pulling up the anchor we motored yet again (the wind was blowing towards the west), past the small lighthouse-topped island of Repio on our way east towards Skopolos.

Before anchoring on the coast of Skopolos for lunch we made a snorkeling pitstop around Dasia where we swam through an eerie underwater tunnel and explored caves with thousands of tiny silver fish. Lunch, which was more like a feast for the gods, consisted of no less than four massive courses of Greek breads, spreads, cheeses, veggies, seafood, and pasta; all washed down by tsipouro, a savory take on the famous Greek ouzo. Sadly, I promised our snarky captain that I wouldn’t reveal the details of the banquet to prevent food IP theft by other ambitious captains.

Our midday repast left us stuffed like turduckens and more than a little tipsy from the bottomless tsipouro cups so we didn’t mind a leisurely sail (yes, sail, the wind favored our return) back towards Skiathos. We made one final pitstop on Tsougkrias where we jumped from the bow into the crystal clear Mediterranean waters and drank a celebratory, and thankfully very thin, Gin & Tonic before pulling up our anchor and returning to Skiathos Town. Thoroughly salted and sun-dried we deftly navigated the gangway before setting foot back on solid ground. We claimed it was sea-legs that made us wobble our way through the harbor but I’m not so sure.

For my birthday a little over a week later we went on another boating adventure around Skiathos and its neighboring islands, sans captain. Unless you count my unlicensed sister at the helm of a 12 foot motor boat. Essentially a souped-up dinghy, our transport was small but mighty, and felt like more than enough boat for four inexperienced boaters to handle. But what it lacked in size it made up for in freedom. We weren’t at the mercy of a guided tour so we crafted our own itinerary for the day which began with Lalaria, Skiathos’ most famous destination.

We motored, slowly but surely, around 1/3rd of the coastline before laying anchor among the giant underwater boulders on the shore. Unable to motor directly to the beach, we jumped off the boat and swam ashore for a painful walk along the picturesque white rocks. The far end of the beach features a beautiful stone arch that’s the backdrop to millions, if not billions of photos. What I discovered, though, is that unbeknownst to 99% of tourists who visit (that’s a wild guesstimate) is a second underwater arch. This secluded arch is home to thousands of fish swimming in schools in the safety of the shade under the rocks. Sadly I had no camera so you’ll just have to trust me on this, or go see it for yourself. I swam through the secret arch a few times before making my way back to shore where the others were admiring the beautiful rocky beach.

Our stomachs started to grumble so we swam back to our boat, pulled up the anchor, fired up our mini-motor, and made our way to Arkos for a beachside taverna. After eating some classic Greek dishes we motored west, to a portion of the island only accessible by boat, where we found an idyllic cove with majestic Cotylorhiza tuberculata, aka fried egg jellyfish, floating in the current. With only an hour or so before we had to return the boat we lazily swam around the rocks in search of fish before drying off and starting up the motor for the short ride home.

After two weeks on Skiathos we decided that we wouldn’t mind another week exploring the island’s beaches and cliffs, but sadly our time was up. I, however, had one more Greek destination on the itinerary: Corfu.

Moraira, Spain 2021

The smell of the paella wafted up from the back seat, sneaking past the aluminum foil that covered it. The massive cast-iron dish, which was nearly a meter wide, dominated the back seat of one tiny European car; the other car was packed with people. We were driving to Moraira harbor where, after arriving, we tossed pillows and blankets aboard Nirvana for our overnight. I straddled the water, one foot on the dock and one on the stern of the boat, before carefully crossing with our most precious cargo, the paella.

After a few equipment checks, Jonas fired up the motor and expertly piloted the boat out of the harbor and to our distant prize. The sun was just about to set but, unfortunately, the cloud cover made a beautiful Mediterranean sunset unlikely. The smells emanating from the paella dish kept us occupied, though.

Five minutes and no more than 500 meters of motoring later and we made it to El Portet, the comically close cove just outside of the Moraira harbor. Jonas and his sister Tara laid the anchor and before long we were rotating in the wind in tandem with the three other boats anchored nearby. During the stress of anchoring no one seemed to notice but the moment we looked up we realized that the sun had slipped below the clouds on the horizon and was painting the sky from bright yellow to deep purple.

I grabbed a few dozen photos and then decided that the best way to enjoy the sunset would be from the water. I tossed my shirt in the master cabin and dove in off the bow. The others were too cozy on the boat to bother jumping in.

The moment I climbed back onto the boat and the sun had set our stomachs grumbled and everyone’s mind went back to the paella sitting on the deck. We opened the folding table, cracked our beers, and gave a quick toast before attacking the paella with gusto. At the speed we were eating it wasn’t long before our stomachs were filled to the brim and the beer was our top priority.

An hour later we got confirmation that Jonas’ friend Stan had landed at Alicante and was on his way to El Portet. When he arrived there was only one obstacle between him and our party on the boat: 300 meters of water shrouded in darkness. Luckily, Jonas in cotton shorts and a t-shirt on a standup paddleboard was ready to act as his knight in shining armor.

Jonas and I wrestled the paddleboard off of the boat and around to the stern so he could carefully step on. He confidently charged into the darkness as we yelled at him that the board was backward. He didn’t hear us. 30 meters from the boat he rocked left, then right, and fell in.

Head cleared by the cold water, Jonas charged into the darkness unperturbed, his goal only 270 more meters away. I rushed below deck and grabbed binoculars for us to follow along from the boat but with so little light we could only hope that the shadow we were looking at was Jonas and not a trash can on the shore. We spotted him when he fell into the water a second time.

A few minutes later we heard shouts from the beach and assumed that he made it — wet but in one piece. Stan joined on the board and they slowly zigzagged their way back to the boat avoiding a blunder the whole way. Once they were both safely on deck the party started in earnest.

The next morning after being rocked to sleep on the boat in the wee hours of the night we woke to the sun shining through the porthole and the sound of seagulls in the distance. Some of us slept more soundly than others but we all felt different degrees of horrible. In my eyes, the only medicine was a dip in the cold salty water so I climbed above deck and jumped in. I instantly felt better.

Hours later and back on dry land we all logged in to Zoom for work or school. The house seemed to rock slowly back and forth and I longed to return to the cool blue waters of El Portet.

We spent the rest of the week hopping between our computers and the ocean — climbing Ifach, replacing on rocky beaches in idyllic coves, and enjoying a drink or two looking over the water — before flying home to Berlin where the weather was even warmer than in Spain.

As always, thank you so much to Jonas Breuer for hosting us at your family’s amazing home in Benimarco.

Benimarco, Spain 2020

I want to start this story by saying thank you, thank you, thank you to Jonas and his family for providing a haven in Spain during the pandemic. Their family is incredibly gracious, forever welcoming, and this trip couldn’t have happened without them. Also, Jonas’s dad is an executive at a pharmaceutical company that’s working on a COVID-19 vaccine; remember that for later.

Our tale begins in a tiny village in Spain called Benimarco. There isn’t much there. Houses don’t have numbers. The hills are covered by fruit trees. There’s no grocery store, but the best paella around is just up the street. It seems that a light breeze is always blowing in from the ocean and the sun is always shining—at least on this trip it was.

On our first morning, the five of us piled into my tiny red Seat Ibiza rental car and made our way to what Jonas and his sister Tara said would be an idyllic reservoir tucked in the coastal mountains. It felt crazy to go away from the coast when world-class beaches were only 15 minutes away but I trusted my hosts and held my tongue.

I started to regret that decision as the GPS guided us down a tiny one-lane road that was riddled with potholes. Going down was easy enough but I realized that the car’s 1-liter engine might not be enough to get us back up the hill. Before it was too late I cut my losses and turned around, nearly getting stuck on the rocker panel under the car in the process. I urged the car up the hill but it was no use, not enough power. We were stuck. I kicked my passengers out of the back seat, revved the engine, and dropped the clutch. The little Ibiza mumbled softly under my feet and slowly decided to roll up the hill. Any slower and we would’ve been rolling backward.

I realized at this moment that if I stopped at any point on my way up the hill I wouldn’t get going again. I held my foot to the floor and whispered kind words to our pathetic steed while whipping around hairpin turns. I swerved around potholes that could have swallowed the tiny wheels before we came to a flatter part of the road where I pulled over and gave the Ibiza a rest. Jonas and I walked down to meet the others and we all made our way down the rest of the gravel road to the Guadalest Reservoir. It turned out Jonas and Tara were right, it was just as beautiful as they described. We dropped our stuff and jumped right into the silty turquoise water to cool off. We quickly realized that the banks dropped off almost instantly under the water’s surface so we swam to the other side and scrambled up its crumbly banks to jump off.

We had no issues with the car on our way out of the reservoir and made our way back to Benimarco with the windows down and the wind drying our hair. That evening we gorged ourselves on paella and martinis before passing out with full bellies and sun-kissed cheeks.

The next morning we woke up early and made our way to the harbor where we connected with some of Jonas’ old friends at the local scuba shop. They outfitted us with the proper equipment, gave me a refresher on underwater scuba etiquette, and we piled into the boat. After a twenty-minute motor, we dropped anchor and tipped back into the depths below.

Our guide led us 12 meters down to the ocean floor and we followed as she meandered through underwater rock formations and caves. We chased after flying gurnards along the ocean floor and coaxed an octopus out of its den before slowly returning to the surface. We boated back to the harbor and drove back home for the afternoon before we returned to the harbor to hop on their 38-foot sailboat for an evening of sailing and swimming.

As soon as we left the harbor our captain—Jonas’s dad—got a call about a new vaccine study for COVID-19 and he had to read it as soon as possible. He handed me the wheel and told us all how to pilot the boat in between paragraphs of the dense scientific paper. We successfully made our way out to sea while Jonas blasted the Pirates of the Caribbean theme song and his dad continued to read. After a quick sail out and back we dropped anchor in El Portet bay where we jumped into the clear water and dived to the ocean floor. We inspected fish and stingrays as they meandered through the water and paddled around the anchored boats on a paddleboard. When Thomas finished reading the vaccine report he jumped in to cool off before pulling up the anchor and returning to the harbor.

~ Interlude for working remotely, it can’t all be fun. ~

A few days later on our last evening in Benimarco, we attempted to repeat our success on the boat before returning to Berlin. We made our way to the harbor after work and clambered aboard right as Thomas’s phone rang. Another vaccine report was released. Rather than returning home to work he graciously took us out of the harbor and instructed us in the background while he read. I have no idea how, but he managed to read a scientific paper on an iPhone on wavy seas for the second time in three days.

After more Pirates of the Caribbean and a quick trip past Cap d’Or and back, we returned to the same pristine bay and taught Lena how to dive. Which meant watching her belly flop and trying to hide our laughter as she resurfaced. She was a real trooper and didn’t give up until she got it, kind of. Just before we pulled up the anchor I realized it might be a year before I had the chance to dive into those crystal clear waters again so I joined the belly flop contest myself. After the painful impact, I struggled back to the boat and climbed up the ladder with my chest on fire and a grin from ear to ear. We pulled up the anchor and motored towards home with another good trip on the books.

I said it before but I’ll say it again: thank you a million times to Jonas, Tara, Lili, (Captain) Thomas, and Aparajita for the endless hospitality and another amazing trip to Spain.

Video footage by Jonas Breuer.