I met an Italian man about two weeks into my Europe trip. He was sweet and handsome and after a few wonderful days and several beautiful conversations we were walking hand in hand on a beach on the Almalfi Coast of Italy at midnight. The only part of that trip I had pre-planned was a flight from Athens to Cairo and a nine day tour of Egypt two weeks after I'd met him.
On our last day together we caught a ferry from Athens to Agistri, a tiny Greek Island he'd heard had a hidden nudist beach. We were walking through mildly dense Grecian bushland, ducking under branches and making our own path when I had another one of Those Moments where I realise I'm in the middle of nowhere with someone I barely know and I haven't told a soul where in the world I am going. I smiled and wondered for a moment if there was really cause for concern or if my mother's cautious yet usually unnecessary "everyone's an axe-wielding serial killer" logic was just a little too engrained in my mind. I kept walking.
The view of the pebble beach from the top of the rocky cliff we had to climb down was one of the most beautiful things I've ever witnessed. The climbing down part, I'm now sure, was the only thing to be afraid of dying from that day. We walked past heavenly Greek girls warming their brown nipples in the sun and I waded out into the translucent blue water and took everything in.
On the way back through the bushland, we found a tiny restaurant built on another cliff over the seaside. We sat outside by ourselves and breathed the salty air and ate the best meal of my life- fish, tomatoes, bread and halloumi- everything so fresh that it was like tasting food for the first time.
We walked back to the ferry as the sun was setting and I etched every moment into my mind to relive over and over again and thought about how this would be one of the best days of my life.