July 20, 2012

This place is so old and crumbly and charming that it almost feels like a stage set. Bridges over small marinas, winding limestone-paved alleys lined with limestone-clad buildings. Wood shutters and stone window hoods and Venetian ogee arches. Plazas around hidden corners that are filled with dinner tables, bar tables, ice cream shop tables. Souvenir stores tucked into low archways. Outdoor markets with locals selling olive oil, vegetables, lavendar products, fig products.

[...] Large yachts were moored along the inlet, a band of young people playing string instruments set up in front. More wandering ensued until we found a satisfactory gelato place with available seating. The pumping rhythm of electronic dance music beat into the atmosphere wherever we were on this very busy Friday night.

I am by far the palest person here. The Europeans look as if they have only used suntanning oil-- that dark, almost charred look.