It wasn't part of the original plan. I had no contacts there, I was done with my formal research, and its reputation as the party capital of Greece made me wonder if they'd even let me off the ferry. But from a practical standpoint, it just made sense. We had to get from Paros to Milan, and the most logical transfer points were back through Athens or via Mykonos.
We made a good choice.
Mykonos is where couples honeymoon. It's not for babies, people who like quiet, or people in a bad mood. It's for beautiful people, young people, gay people, straight people, and people who like to stay up very, very late. It's for men with abs and women with teeny bikinis. It's for people who drive mopeds so fast the tires just barely skim the road.
It's also paradise.
I eeny meeny miney moed my reservation at the Mykonos Bay Hotel. It was a roll of the dice, really, and maybe all the other hotels are similarly gorgeous, but for some reason, reading that the owner personally drives guests from the dock to the hotel rubbed me the right way. It worked out. The place was stunning. (You may not know how hard it is for me to tone down the adjectives here, but I'm trying.)
We only had one night -- one night! -- left in Greece before meeting the rest of our family in Italy, so we splurged for our final meal. One of Julie's friends back home knew the island well and told us her favorite spot was called Sea Satin Market.
I asked the concierge to make us a reservation for 8 pm.
Hahahahahahahahaha! is basically what he said to me, but in Greek.
Apparently no one on Mykonos eats before 10 pm. Or maybe midnight.
OK, fine, I said. I understand. How about 8:30 pm?
I'll TRY, he answered, looking dubious.
Now this next bit is important. We walk into this restaurant having this crazy-early reservation (I still maintain that 8:30p is a reasonable time to eat a meal, but I obviously know nothing), and the hostess starts walking us towards the water. There are other people scattered around eating -- we're not the only ones there, I swear -- and she keeps walking, walking, walking, WALKING. She seats us at a table so close to the sea if the wind blows I will drown.
It's the most amazing table I've ever been at, anywhere. It's the best seat in the house. It has a million dollar view. And we? We're nobody. I'm confused and delighted in equal measure.
The famous Mykonos windmills spin directly behind us...
The sun is setting with wild abandon, and I'm looking at my sister, wondering if she's feeling the full weight of this experience, of this table, of this view, of this particular and very random moment that could very easily not have happened. I take in the scene.
The sun sets.
The moon rises.
The food is good, it is, but my heart is too full to notice.