The Breeze Changes

September is my favourite month on the island, hands down.

For most of Europe, the new year starts in January. Here, in the Mediterranean, it starts now. On the first of the month, almost like magic, the breeze changes: cooler, softer, more forgiving and we all exhale a little. We're still deep in everything summer brought us, just moving through it slower now, less hurried. It's as if nature knows exactly how to tell us: breathe a little deeper, slow the pace, let this renewed energy in. I don't know what it is about this month, but it has a hold on me, I appreciate everything more in September, indulge in island life more.

For anyone who hasn't been here: Poros isn't really out at sea the way people picture a Greek island. It sits close enough to the mainland that a narrow channel is really all that separates us, a few hundred metres of water, crossed in minutes by little wooden caique boats that go back and forth all day, practically like a bus line. That closeness changes everything about how life feels here. We're not cut off, and we're not dressed up for visitors the way some of the more famous islands can be. Poros still belongs mostly to the people who actually live here, and it shows: in the pace, in the small local spots that never bothered opening a second location, in how little anyone tries to impress anyone else. It's more original because it never had to perform for tourists the way some islands did. It just carried on being itself.

That same in-between-ness is exactly what makes a day like yesterday possible. The ferry crossing itself is barely ten minutes (you're on the mainland before you've even settled in)  and from there it's another fifteen-minute ride to one of my absolute favourite beaches. You can only reach it by driving through a plot of land that belongs to our friend Aggelos. He's built a little bar up on top with an incredible view, and somehow made it so that everyone who wanders in feels welcomed straight into his own back garden. You feel it the moment you sit down after a swim.

The place is called "Votsalakia" Pebble Beach. It's grown more popular over the years, but it hasn't lost its vibe. Yesterday: cards, a daiquiri made with fresh lime from Aggelos's own garden, and his mother's homemade cooking, exactly as good as it sounds. Between that beach and this month, I feel properly recharged, and full of new ideas.

Anouck