Myrtos

The asphalt shimmers as the road winds in tight curves through the barren foothills of the Dikti Mountains. Behind us lies the bustle; ahead, the deep, almost unreal, sparkling blue of the Libyan Sea. And then, after one final bend, there it is: Myrtos.

Anyone arriving in the village for the first time senses it immediately - a sudden feeling that one’s pulse is slowing down. It’s not that the clocks tick differently here; it’s as if they’ve simply decided to call it a day.

We stroll through the narrow, whitewashed alleys. Above our heads, colors erupt: deep-violet bougainvillea climbs meters high along the walls, forming a natural canopy against the Cretan sun.

The path leads us naturally toward the waterfront promenade. The beach at Myrtos is quite unlike the postcard-perfect sandy beaches of the north. The sand is dark - almost ash-gray - and interspersed with fine, smooth-polished pebbles. The water is so clear that, even where it’s waist-deep, you can count every single stone on the seabed.

We pass the colorful chairs of various tavernas until we find one where we decide to eat. At our backs, the Dikti Mountains stand like a mighty protective barrier; they block the cold northern winds, gifting this small patch of earth a microclimate that, even in late autumn, feels as warm and secure as the height of summer.Read more