Meanwhile, on another part of the planet...

It is summer on Tilos, and afternoon has turned the abandoned wheat fields golden. There’s the breathy whistle of bee-eaters as I pick my way down the path, Lisa eagerly pulling on the lead. A harmless black whip-snake disappears into the rocks. I let Lisa cool off in the water first, then from the grey pebble beach I swim with a mask, seeing a painted comber – a zebra-striped fish with yellow fan-tail and a blush of blue underneath – and armoured grey parrotfish. If winter is a time for long walks, summer is for long swims. When the sun is baking hot, it’s essential to dive into the sea’s soothing, silky coolness. The summer months warm the water, making it easier to keep going until my muscles ache, explore around the headlands, scare myself looking down to rocks dropping away into the depths. I also love the pure pleasure of lying on an empty beach and listening to the waves, drowsy from swimming, falling asleep. There’s something sensual about lying on warm sand, like b...

  I have reservations at two ‘monasteries of the rocks’ perch ed like seabird’s eyries on pinnacles jutting out from the cliff. What possessed the founders? To get closer to God? Fear of Pirates? Imitate the hermit’ s vertiginous cave? It is a fasting day so I set out on a sugar high with nutty halva and dark chestnut honey with yesterday’s bread. Simonopetra is a five mile hike from Dafni along the coast road, a dirt track bulldozed out of the ancient footpath. The temperature must be over thirty degrees with no breeze an d a malevolent sun. S oon hat, boots and all my clothes, including those inside my backpack, are sodden with sweat. T he road is covered in thick yellow dust. I hold my breath and put my hand over my eyes and nose as trucks and SUVs barrel past, leaving sandstorms in their wake that stucco my damp clothes and turn me into a terracotta warrior. None of them stop to offer a lift. But the views are lovely. Over the indigo sea is the middle finger of the Halkidik...

  Alex Kemp had never really thought of Greece before. But then he met an unhappy-looking, beautiful Greek girl who had come all the way to England to teach for the summer in the same school as him. Within a year, he was slogging his way to the top of Mount Olympus with an engagement ring in his pocket and Greece, the real Greece – its places and its spirit – indelibly fixed in his mind. In Here is Greece , he takes us on a long journey from frantic Athens to the scattered islands of the Ionian and Aegean Seas; from the remote northern territories to the very southern point of Europe, far beyond Crete. With humour and insight, we navigate through his new Greek life and meet a procession of vivid characters who all help him feel Greece has become his home, and sometimes make him wonder if he made the right decision. Click here to review/buy the book

In the afternoon light details were coming more into focus, colours had refreshed and shapes reasserted themselves after their bleaching in the noonday sun. Wakes from boats on their workaday trips to the island wove patterns on the azure counterpane as they descended the hill towards Elounda. From the terrace in her village house, Popi surveyed the same view from a different perspective. Even through the mish mash of telephone poles, water tanks and solar panels, the little piece of paradise that confronted her was a reassurance as she sat typing a letter. Forced to leave Crete as a child, can a family tragedy help Popi rediscover happiness on the magical island of her birth?  A heartwarming story of loss, love and redemption set against the backdrop of the dazzling Cretan landscape.  Click here to preview/buy the book.