Have you ever had that dream? You know the one. The one where you are lounging somewhere perfect, with all the "you" time you crave. Where the wind goads the waves to crash upon the rocky shoreline and then gently wafts through your hair. Where after basking on the rocks like a water moccasin, you retire to the plush cushiony rattan chairs, picking on pita bread covered in taziki, hummus, or feta spreads and watch the spray of the ocean and let its whispers run through you, leaving you limp and relaxed in the aftermath of a decadent massage. Well, I found in Paros that this is no dream, no delusion of grandeur; this is simply Greece.
On the island of Paros, it is easy to lose yourself in the majesty of the Mediterranean - to let the sun tint your nose as you read a novel. When I wasn't near the seaside, I found myself in awe as I rambled throughout the winding narrow streets, like a maze of white stucco, broken by blue shutters and jaunty painted doors. Better than a picture - the reality of the slow life, where matronly ladies set up ironing boards near their open front doors, letting the wind caress their slightly rosy faces and bringing gladness to my heart. This is Paros, a small island where all the ferries land; a place where touristy shops close in the low season; where children ding-dong-ditch from one bright door to another, only to stop and introduce themselves as you pass by; a place where people smile and say hello; where people shut their shutters when not around, just so the stray cats don't come in; a place filled with crawling vines and flowers of all colors - even in March! Friendly Paros is the smell of gyros - a short stop on the way to the fullfillment of former dreams and those to come.
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