Sandy feet and salty hair; dressed for a sunset

I relax backwards into a comfortably worn-in balcony chair that belongs to the small apartment we have for a week. I can't take credit for wearing it in. There has been a never ending cycle of sun seekers from the North that have stayed here before me, I'm sure.

How could you not. Our accomodation is simple, but beautifully Greek. White washed cement walls and a stained plank ceiling. We keep all of the windows open and the white flowing curtains blow in the breeze.

Everything flows here. Even the view from this balcony flows downward over the old traditional village, Koutouloufari and out to sea. You can sea the Isle of Dia out to the West. Out to the East is an endless vista of blue that sparkles at mid day.

Crete is a spectacular island. I'm pretty sure I've fallen in love.

Like on the Peloponese we spend our mornings wandering around the countryside in our tight rental car. And by early afternoon we find a beach with cobalt blue water lapping on the beach.

But I feel so much more relaxed and welcome here than up north.

Today we found Knossos and in typical style with signage, road mapping and directions in this country we gave up on everything and left it to our instinct and followed the odd tour bus to find the ancient palace.

I won't lie, I hated every moment of it. The reconstruction of the palaces felt forced and fake and the constant money grab that lay around every corner really got to me (including our parking spot).

So we left quickly and found ourselves, intuition leading us, on the road again.

We drove down winding highways minding the sharp corners to ensure that we were far right of the none existant line that was to divide traffic. We drove through countless olive groves with arid mountain ranges staring down at us from all points.

Way west and south we found ourselves at Matala. Yes, a tourist destination, but an enjoyable one.

Staring out to the cobalt blue bay, I melt. After the drive I'm ready to float about aimlessley in the ocean.

My sister and I barely arrive and we were already submerged, sadly we both suffer from the Canadian: no nudey syndrome, so both our bikini tops and bottoms were firmly fastened. Directly above us on the cliff overlooking the bay is a fantastic sight. We stare up to the deep caved entrances that were dug out by the Romans, tombs for their dead, thousands of years ago. They decorate the cliff side.

I just float. There is so much history here, but all that lays before me here are families holidaying, enjoying themselves in the Cretan sunshine. Some wearing tops, some not.

Tonight I've come home to rest in the worn-in chair on our balcony. A glass of wine in hand, I lean backwards and rest my feet on the low wall to take in the orange toned sunset. I lean over to brush the sand from my feet, a token, a reminder of our day in the sun.