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Because I loved Greece instantly, more or less as soon as I’d exited the plane in Athens. That first morning, I woke up in the one-bedroom efficiency I’d rented in the same complex as my friends, in Apollonia, the island’s capital city, and stepped out onto a patio lined in bougainvillea, mimosa and what looked like bearded orchids, which I quickly learned were caper berry blossoms.
That air was fragrant with oregano and sage, which grow wild on the surrounding hills.
Like most Americans, I had accepted the loss of even the idea of a vacation as a fact of what everyone kept calling the new economy.
As a freelance writer and a “visiting writer” at a small liberal arts college — a sort of high-end adjunct professor, better pay but with all of the uncertainty — vacations meant working vacations, or, as I liked to call them, “really beautiful places I have freelanced from.” As a writer, the time I don’t work is never very clear; I am as likely to get an idea at 11 p.m.
In any case, the idea of a place famous for being unfamous, that once thought it could fool Apollo, only made me more curious.
My friend Sabina said this to me when she invited me to join her there in the summer of 2008.
The ancient gods seemed alive to them, but as if they were friends.
When the couple asked where I was going, and I told them, they said, Sifnos is not as famous, just like that.
Three adorable tiny kittens and their mother, who all seemed unsure if they would beg for food, were on my lounge chair, and this was how I met the first of the skinny cats of Sifnos. As I walked back by the line forming for the bus to the beach, I noticed the busy traffic in scooters and motorcycles zipping by and knew instantly I didn’t want to wait for a bus.
I rented a scooter for the rest of my stay, easily the best decision of the trip. Of my friends there, the one who inspired me most on that trip was a chef who ran a thriving catering business back home.