Poseidon of Paros, Resort and Spa: A Piece of Paradise in Beautiful Paros, Greece

Poseidon of Paros, Resort and Spa: A Piece of Paradise in Beautiful Paros, Greece

When our good friends invited us to their wedding in Paros, we were convinced they said “Paris”. I mean, it made sense. She’s French, they’d met in Boston (where the civic ceremony was held), and he’s from a beautiful part of Romania called Timisoara (I love you Romania, but Paris… is Paris). So when talk started circulating of warm climates and beach vacations, we were a bit confused. It was only when we received the official invite that we realized they hadn’t been talking about Paris, at all.

Paros: Greek Island. Not French Capital.

Paros? The first thing we did was Google it. Long behold, nestled somewhere close to Naxos, floating in the middle of the Aegean Sea, was Paros. After 2 wonderful days spent lounging in Santorini, we took a 3 hour(ish) ferry ride to Paros. The ferry, by the way, operated by Blue Star Ferries, was BY FAR, the best ferry ride I have ever, ever taken.

First of all, it was enormous. There was no cramming in between fellow passengers, running to get the first seat, or panic that you might be left standing for hours on end. Second of all, it was luxurious! Of course, this is coming from the backpacker who camped on the floor under a table on the ferry from Helsinki to Stockholm – so maybe take my opinion with a grain of (sea) salt. Tons of space for everyone to sit on couches, with tables on every level and a restaurant/cafe smack in the middle of things. Not to mention, the bathrooms which had walls facing out to sea and undoubtedly the best view on the boat.

Paros Harbour Continue reading “Poseidon of Paros, Resort and Spa: A Piece of Paradise in Beautiful Paros, Greece”

… it was all Greek to me!

… it was all Greek to me!

I once had a teacher who told me that stepping off the plane in Athens, she felt like she was coming home. At the time, I had no idea what she meant and took it for the whimsical reflections of a romantic trapped in the body of my grade 12 French professor – boy was I wrong. You see, at the time I hadn’t yet had that full on feeling of being “in awe”. Travel was foreign to me (pardon the pun) and I wasn’t yet able to understand the pull felt by seasoned voyagers as they leave little bits of themselves in the most obscure corners of the world.

Continue reading “… it was all Greek to me!”