How exactly did I become a bikini bandit? I didn’t choose it really. From the time I was two, my parents packed me off for long holidays under the Greek sun. Since my first trip, I’ve never skipped a summer—except for once. I didn’t go on vacation only to get fired at the end of September. It was a valuable life lesson: No job is worth missing a day at the beach for.
In the end, I found a job that didn’t compromise my beach time: writing about it. In my continued search for the perfect beach, I’ve road-tripped down the Dalmatian Coast in Croatia. I’ve driven through the desert at 4 a.m. to the Red Sea. I’ve been whisked to the Cinque Terre by a dashing Italian helicopter pilot I met in Mykonos and I’ve cruised down the Cote d’Azur of the French Riviera and bounced around the Caribbean.
Still despite all the beauty I have seen, my heart always returns to my home, Milos, the island of the Venus de Milo. This sun-soaked bit of nowhere where my yiayia and I walked through herb-covered mountains collecting chamomile flowers in mismatched pillowcases. I hope you will enjoy reading about my adventures.