Xoxo Pottery Designs

Just wanted to say a HUGE thank you… 🤍
To everyone who followed along, commented, sent messages, voice notes, made phone calls, checked in… and somehow became emotionally invested in my daily ramblings🫶🏾

Some of you were out there conducting full blown investigations. I absolutely loved it. 🤭
And no…I’m still not telling. 🤣

Some mysteries are simply better left unsolved…
mainly because they’re much funnier that way. 🤭
We’ll just file it under…
“What happens over Palomas, stays over Palomas.” 🍹😉

Thank you for the company, the laughs, the interest, and for coming along on the ride. You made this trip even more special.

I’m going to disappear for a tiny social media hiatus while I remember where I left my pottery tools, reacquaint myself with clay instead of Ouzaki, and convince my washing machine that yes… all these sarongs belong to one person. 😂
Then I’ll be back.

I think it’s time for a weekly Clay Lexi: Dear Diary Edition. 🏺
It’ll keep my writing muscles warm… for when that completely inevitable book deal lands. 😌📖✨

Manifesting. Delusion. Confidence.
Who’s to say? 😂🤍

Dear Diary Day 44: The Great Re Entry 🇿🇦
Hello Sea Point, hello Cape Town.
Would I rather still be swanning around Greece in a sarong, with an Ouzaki in 1 hand and a gyro in the other? Sure.

Would I rather still be waking up to church bells, sun loungers, frappés, tiropitas, lemon beers, sun tan oil, the sun blinding me, and absolutely zero adult responsibility? Also sure.
Would my bank account appreciate it if I came home? Apparently yes.

Returning home to Cape Town has never felt like a consolation prize. In a few short months she’ll be warm, golden & showing off again. Hopefully my tan holds out until then, because I suddenly feel pale.
I was in Greece for 44 days.
Six gloriously gifted weeks. 1,056 hours.
Nothing wasted. Not 1 early morning wake from the church bells. Not 1 sunset harbour or city walk. Not 1 meal that didn’t involve cheese, olive oil, garlic or the good Samian oregano.
Not one “just 1 more Paloma.” 🤭

I got my fix. It all hit me square between the eyes, & I felt every single minute of it. The funny thing is…
I somehow never got the Greek island travel memo
in my 20s and 30s.

I was too busy flying to visit my sisters, who somehow chose to live on two entirely different continents.
I took aunty & godmother duties VERY seriously, so for a good 15 years I wanted my family fix each year.
By my mid 30s,
I was happily walking across Spain on not one, not two, but three separate Caminos. Somewhere along the way, I completely missed Greece.

Then I turned 40, and my maiden voyage return to Greece happened.
Well… I think it’s safe to say I’m hooked.
I’ve drunk the Ouzaki. It’s basically Greece’s version of
Kool Aid.
I’ve developed a strong opinion on fresh seafood & mobile vegetables shops.
I’ve become dramatically & humorously attached to
being screamed at on ferries. I’ve mastered the art of
“drop, roll, run, panic” while disembarking.
I may or may not be emotionally attached to a harbour
wall in Pythagorio.
The best part is I’m never looking back.
This level of aliveness has no price tag.
Do yourself a favour. No matter your age…
Go & experience a Greek island at least once.

Just don’t blame me when you’re halfway home pricing apartments & wondering if olive harvesting counts as a career change.
The good Lord knows I’m currently playing that game with myself.

I genuinely think my 40s are becoming my highlight era, & these yearly Greek Odyssey trips are providing the elixir for my favour.
Time is the biggest gift there is.
What an extraordinary gift these past 6weeks have been.

Now…the trip home. Cape Town…
I hauled my heavy ass suitcases off the conveyor, plastered the look of innocence across my face, smiled at the customs officials, and cheerfully announced while in mid stride…
“Gosh, it’s good to be home” casually walking straight through with several food items that were probably living somewhere between “allowed” and “don’t ask, don’t tell.”
Apparently my halo fits surprisingly well.

I got home & walked straight into my studio.
My Xoxopottery brain switched back on immediately. In fact, it switched on a week ago when I ordered 180kg of clay.
I forgot how hard I worked the week before I left.
I forgot how many pieces I left to dry out in my absence. I greeted all my babies.
“Mama’s home”.
Before I’d unpacked a single block of cheese…
Before I’d rescued the oregano from my suitcase…Before I’d even remotely behaved like a normal human being coming off a long haul international flight…
I packed my kiln, tapped the door and said, “Fire well, my loves,” then switched it on.
Priorities.
Would I happily stay in Greece forever?
Have I already trolled property sites?
Have I already asked who the “Fernando of Samos” is? Because we all know every potter needs their own Fernando. Yes to all.

But for now, coming home is no hardship, home isn’t the place I escape from. It’s the place I get excited to return to. I’ve absolutely loved sharing my Greek Odyssey with all of you.
Thank you for laughing with me, travelling with me & putting up with my increasingly concerning relationship with gyros, Palomas & the Greek way of life.
Although…Let’s be honest…This version has been the ‘family friendly’ edition.
Some stories are best left between me and the stars in Greece. The rest? Well…Those Palomas may or may not have been code for an entirely different narrative.
There may or may not be an entirely separate Dear Diary sitting somewhere that absolutely cannot be published… yet.
Guess you’ll have to wait for the book.
Or the movie.
Ask me again after one more Greek summer.
Or after I’ve accidentally signed a publishing deal because apparently the Greeks keep giving me material faster than I can write it.

So my answer to “Would you move there?” may become increasingly irresponsible…
Or increasingly inevitable.
Till next year…One life. Μια ζωή. Ftou ftou ftou. 🧿Siga, Siga, Kalí synéchia, Yamas.
Yasou Greece. Hello Cape Town.
Dear Diary…
I have a feeling we’re only just getting started. 🇬🇷🇿🇦😉

Dear Diary Day 43: Sleep Can Wait. Cities Can’t. 🇬🇷💙
Nothing beats an early morning start. Especially in Europe. Especially in the middle of summer.
I’ve always been an early riser. My holiday philosophy has never changed…
Get up. Get ready. Get out.
Sleep can wait. Cities can’t.
I love wandering through a place before the crowds descend and everyone starts walking five abreast with absolutely no awareness of their surroundings.
The city feels like it’s stretching awake.
Shop windows are being dressed.
Café owners are setting out chairs.
The streets belong to the locals for just a little bit longer… and I love being quietly invited into that part of their day.
The only thing missing this morning…
…was my Kori.
6 weeks ago we were walking these exact same streets together. Everything was still ahead of us.
Sister Summer hadn’t happened yet. The adventures. The laughter at max capacity.
The ridiculous stories. The freedom to be completely ourselves around each other.
The memories we didn’t even know we were making. So every now and then I’d turn a corner and think…
“Oh yes… we stood here.”
Or…
“This is where we laughed until we couldn’t breathe.” No one makes me laugh like my Kori!
It’s funny how places quietly collect little pieces of the people you’ve shared them with. Athens is beautiful. There’s a pulse here that vibrates and demands your attention in the most magnetic way. Even the graffiti, which still isn’t exactly my love language, feels different now.
3 years ago I did a graffiti walking tour here and, ever since then, I’ve found myself looking past the paint and into the stories.
It’s amazing what understanding changes.

I headed straight for a rooftop bar for my last… and final… and absolutely non negotiable frappé of the 2026 Greek Odyssey Summer Trip.
It still amazes me how different the city feels from 8 floors up. Everything goes quiet.
Down below it’s all movement and noise.
Up there everything softens.
The sensory overload from the street is suddenly reduced to sight alone. The vastness of Athens feels different from above, as does the magnificence of the Acropolis standing proudly over it all.

It was especially lovely to see it now that the scaffolding from years of restoration has finally been removed following its restoration.

I lingered much longer than I’d intended.
I wrote in my diary a little. I wanted to remember exactly how I felt in that moment.
Scrolled through photos. Watched people.
Did that thing I always do where gratitude sneaks up behind me, slaps me across the face and suddenly I’ve got tears rolling down my cheeks for absolutely no logical reason whatsoever.

Then…
Back to the streets I went for my final city lap.
If you’ve followed me for a while you’ll know I do not enjoy shopping.
You will not find me wandering around a mall or a gazillion shops at home. Ever.

So you will definitely not find me doing it in Europe.
I’d honestly rather untangle Christmas lights, organise Tupperware lids or listen to someone explain cryptocurrency than spend my time browsing shops.
My motto: get in, get what you after, pay, use your kartoula😂 and GET OUT.
In fact, I think this may be the very first trip in my entire adult life where I haven’t bought a single pair of shoes. Not one. To think I once came back with 12 pairs 🤭 (ps I was a brat in my 20’s)

44 year old me - Who am I?
Someone should probably check my temperature.

As I walked my usual route, stopping every few metres to admire another impossibly ancient pile of rocks or tiny church that somehow continues to make me emotional, reality slowly started tapping me on the shoulder.i
There was a flight to catch.
Summer is over babes..

So naturally…Gyros. Not the wrapped one.
A proper plate extra tzatziki because apparently garlic breath at 35,000 feet is now somebody else’s problem.
Shaaaaame for whoever ends up sitting next to me on the plane. Garlic levels: catastrophic. 🤭

Because Future Lexi is absolutely going to be sitting in Cape Town in about 3 weeks dramatically announcing,
“I really didn’t eat enough gyros.”
There was wine. There was gyros. There were a few more tears of joy… There was yet another bouzouki player. I’m convinced they follow me around.😉
Honestly, I think they’re issued and assigned at passport control upon entry.
It was exactly how I wanted my last meal of the season to be. Then it was back for a shower…
A suitcase that needed to close containing a mildly alarming quantity of oregano.
A completely reasonable amount of cheese… (what a lie!) Enough Korres body products to open my own tiny pharmacy.
And one very, very full heart.
Bye Greece…You absolute beauty.
Thank you for another summer I’ll carry with me for the rest of my life.
I’ve had the best time.
I’ve laughed harder than I have in years.
I feel more alive than ever before in more ways than one. And my soul is soaring.

Keep those Palomas chilled.
Keep that bouzouki tuned.
And keep the little pieces of my heart I’ve left behind safe until next year… when I come back to collect them.
Ouzaki?
Ouzaki!
Yamas🫶🏾
See you next year, baby mou. 😉🇬🇷🧿

Dear Diary Day 42: Reality Called…I Sent It to Voicemail…
The flight out of Samos was… character building.
Turns out the take off is every bit as offensive as the landing. 🤢 So next year I’ve made an executive decision.
I’ll ferry in & I’ll ferry out.
Best I stay in the polite good books of all the wonderfully aggressive, hot Greek ferrymen who, quite frankly, now hold my future holiday happiness in their weather beaten hands.
Look… I reserve the right to be dramatic.
I’ve had about 2 hours sleep.
I’m exhausted.
I’m emotional. I’m deliriously happy.
I feel more alive than I think I’ve ever felt before.
It’s like someone hooked me up to a spark plug and now there’s an entire festival of lights shooting straight out of my eyeballs.

I also may… have had just one more Paloma. 🤭 Actually,
I think there may be some unfinished business between
me & those Palomas. Some love stories deserve a sequel.
Some deserve a trilogy.
Mine apparently comes with tequila & grapefruit.
What can I say…When life gives you limes…Order another one.
It has been a spectacular…
Sunny. Salty. Silky. Sparkling. Soul filling.
Sea soaked. Sand covered. Sun kissed.
Slightly unhinged. Spectacular. Oh sooooo Greek kind of summer. Can highly recommend.
Five stars. No notes.
Would absolutely ruin my sleep schedule all over again.
The flight to Athens is only about 55 minutes.
By minute 35 I’d finally pulled myself together, wiped away
the last rebellious tear that was trying to escape
& gave myself the old…“Buck up, buttercup.”
Only 36 hours in Athens. No pressure. Just enough time to squeeze three days’ worth of living into a day and a half.
Challenge accepted.
Grabbed a taxi and off I trotted to see Maria.
According to my very sensible itinerary, created all the way back in February, we were supposed to have had four full days together & even a little island adventure.
But…We all know I went rogue. Some people stick to the plan.
I found an extra week available at the Blue Street house and suddenly the plan became merely… a suggestion. So as you know I whipped out my kartoula & accidentally bought myself another week in paradise.

Zero regrets. Speaking of kartoula…
I spotted an email from Nedbank.
Subject line: Card Statement.
Honestly…The audacity. Read the room, Nedbank.
I’m still over here living la vida loca.
Meanwhile they’re trying to drag me kicking and screaming back into adulthood. Absolutely not.
Adulting can wait. Talk to me next week.
This week it’s still called kartoula…
…and girl maths says we’re absolutely fine.
Don’t bring spreadsheets to a holiday.
A wonderful few hours on the couch catching up with my bestie Maria, and because of my completely spontaneous date change I also got to spend time with my other friend Maria.

Yes…
It was a Maria squared kind of afternoon.
Two Marias. Double the hugs. Double the laughter. Half the chance of anyone responding when someone shouted “Maria!”
By late afternoon I was absolutely cooked.
My battery was flashing on 1%. My poetry was circling the proverbial drain. My personality had quietly packed its bags and gone home without telling me. Thankfully an everything shower followed by a glorious three hour nap performed what I can only describe as CPR on my soul.
Suddenly…She lives. My personality reappeared.
The lights came back on.
The elevator reached the top floor again.
I was officially ready for dinner.

As we drove through the city I caught myself smiling at absolutely nothing. Funny how somewhere that once felt so enormous can suddenly start feeling familiar. Like bumping into an old friend who still knows exactly how to make you happy. Honestly… You’d have to put in Olympic level effort to have a bad meal in Greece.
At this point I genuinely think even their petrol stations could produce a respectable calamari.
We ate. We laughed. We solved approximately none of the world’s problems.
We talked until well past midnight. Thank heavens for that nap. Tomorrow morning I’ll sneak out before either of the two Marias wake up & spend my final day wandering Athens.
I love the city early. Before the crowds. Before the hustle. Before the organised chaos remembers who she is. When the streets still yawn.
When the cafés are just waking up. When Athens hasn’t quite put her makeup on yet. I plan on making every single hour count.
One last adventure. One last wander.
One last “I’ll just quickly pop in here…”
…which, if history has taught us anything, will absolutely not be quick.
It’s just me…My dirty sneakers…
And the streets of Athens. Let’s dance one more time.

Dear Diary Day 41: The Proposal🤭💍
Today’s the day.
My extended stay is officially up and, true to form, I pushed
it right to the very, very, verrrrrry last second.
I’d love to tell you I woke up early.
That would’ve required me to have actually slept.
No such event occurred. I briefly closed my eyes for an
hour or so.
There were simply too many people to hug, too many
“see you next years” to hand out and, after all that emotional labour… well… one last Paloma simply had to be had.
It would’ve been rude not to.

After all, you don’t spend an entire Greek summer perfecting your Paloma appreciation skills only to decline the farewell round. That would just be disrespectful to the culture
& the Paloma🤭

I sat on the harbour wall watching the day quietly surrender
to the night.
The sky slowly melted from the brightest Mediterranean
blue into that rich velvet black that somehow only
Greek summer nights know how to wear.

One by one the lights flickered on across the harbour,
each one adding another little sparkle to the spell that is Samos. In the distance I could hear my favourite bouzouki players tuning up for the evening. There’s something
about those first few notes… that unmistakable echo
of generations before them… of Greek DNA carried through music… that gets me every single time. 😘

Pure magic.
Or maybe it’s the Palomas.
The jury’s still out.
I wandered through town much slower than necessary. Stopping. Waving. Hugging.
Laughing. Collecting one heartfelt “See you next year”
after another.

Eventually, far later than any sensible person who still
hadn’t packed should’ve been out, I walked past one
last bar to say goodbye to the owners…
…and who do I see? Pam and Allan.
Of course.
Apparently we’re all creatures of habit because we’d somehow managed to end up back at exactly the same place we’d met the night before.
“Ouzaki?”
“Ouzaki.”
“Yamas!”
And just like that we’d come full circle.
The stalking can officially stop now. 🤣
We’ve already decided next year’s holidays need to
overlap because the time together was simply too
good to leave to chance.
Now……..
About this marriage proposal…….

Apparently, somewhere between the laughter, the Ouzaki and everyone’s complete inability to behave responsibly, a proposal of marriage was floated in my general direction.
Considering I’ve practically qualified residency at this bar over the years, it sure took him long enough.
Sir…
I’ve been sitting in the same seat ordering the same drinks for weeks.
Your window of opportunity was significantly earlier than my final night. 😂🤭
Whether it was directed at me, the drink in my hand or Greece itself remains legally unconfirmed.

I’ve since been informed that the Greek version of lobola allegedly involves a respectable collection of olive trees, one prize winning goat and what I can only assume is a lifetime supply of feta.
It’s certainly the strongest offer I’ve received this week.
If I do accidentally accept this entirely sensible life decision, Pam and Allan have already been appointed Koubari.
Mainly because no jury would believe a word either of them says anyway. 😂

We laughed until our stomachs hurt.
Then hugged and somehow ended our goodbye with…”See you next week in Cape Town.”
Life is funny like that. Eventually I walked home.
A little slower than usual. As I reached Blue Street I could still hear the bouzoukia drifting through the warm night air.
I looked up at the little stone house I’d called home for the past month…..Smiled…
And quietly whispered,
“Till next year, baby.”
Maybe just one more Paloma…
(I guess you’ll never know.) 🤭

06:45 taxi pickup.
08:00 flight to Athens.
I’d love to say I’m coming in hot…
I’m absolutely not.
I’m arriving with Ouzaki still flowing through my veins, approximately 17 minutes of sleep, an extremely questionable flight ahead of me…
…and absolutely no regrets.
Let’s see where we land. 😂✈️🤍

Dear Diary Day 40: One More Everything ☀️
I’ve been running a very intense daily schedule over the
last two days. This extra time in Samos has meant so much because I got to see people
I would’ve missed by just a few days. The overlap with my childhood bestie, who’s always been more like a big sister to me, & who also happens to be a proper Samiotisa (a girl from Samos) 🤣 meant a lunch date in Pythagorio was absolutely non negotiable.

It was my last full day here, so errrrrrrything had to happen
and I was prepared to compromise on exactly… NOTHING.
Up early to hear the church bells ring, do a little more packing, a little more cleaning, and then straight to the beach.
I promised myself I would NOT repeat yesterday’s mistake & have two frappés.
We all know I was lying.

I got to my little beach of choice for this summer & as always, was greeted with huge smiles by the taverna owners and beach attendants, who looked slightly concerned that I’d arrived before they’d even finished setting up.
Apparently I was earlier than the umbrellas.
I explained that I had an extremely full itinerary involving squeezing every last drop out of my final day,
seeing my friend, seeing my uncle, & then making my way around approximately half the island saying,
“See you next year.”

To which almost every single person replied,
“Why are you leaving?”
“Why go back?”
“Just stay forever.” Followed by dramatic Greek arm & hand gesturing.

The beach was peaking today!
It was showing off in that spectacular, ridiculously perfect, magical Samos summer kind of way, as if it knew I was leaving & wanted to make it as difficult as humanly possible.
I walked up & down the tiny pebble shore a few times.
I soaked up every step.
I felt every little stone beneath my feet.

The cold sea rushed backwards & forwards around my ankles & I just stood there, exhaled, and quietly said, “Thank you, Universe.”
I said goodbye to the beach, my chair, to my spot.
I hugged everyone goodbye & started walking home.
It suddenly felt like I was noticing everything even more.
The beautiful flower pots outside tiny houses. The smell of lunch being cooked through every little back street.

The soundtrack of yiayiás discussing who was making what, whose tomatoes were better, & which dish would be arriving at whose house just as soon as it was ready.
Honestly… I don’t think neighbourhood WhatsApp groups could ever compete.

Lunch was an absolute highlight.
The overlap with Stamatia felt like such an unexpected gift. So naturally I chose my favourite little souvlatzidiko for 1 final gyros.
We’ve known each other since we were little growing up in Pretoria.
She’s always been my bonus big sister.
We laughed. We shared. We laughed even harder.
We said “Yamás!” several times… purely for hydration purposes, obviously.
Everything somehow felt more heightened.
More magnified. More wonderful.
Eventually there was another round of hugs, another round of goodbyes, & I headed home for what I had confidently planned as “a quick lie down.” Cute.

My uncle wanted to show me the ancient walls of Pythagorio, which I was genuinely excited to see.
So I asked the very sensible question:
“Are we driving or walking?”
“Please tell me you’re bringing the car because I’ve successfully made it 40 days without getting on a papáki (scooter), and I’m really not planning to break my winning streak now.”
Besides…I’m fairly certain my travel insurance expired emotionally sometime last week. 😂
Somehow…Somewhere…Without my full consent…This casually became a 1.5 hour hike.
I absolutely loved every minute of it.
I just perhaps wouldn’t have worn jewellery…
Or lip gloss…
Or my white sneakers, which were very much under the impression we were going for “a quick look,” not trying out for the next season of Survivor: Pythagorio.
They left the house saying, “We’re cute…”
…and came back saying, “We’ve seen things.”
By the end of the hike they looked like they’d personally helped build the ancient walls. 😂
These hours with my uncle have become some of the greatest gifts of this trip.
I’ve loved every conversation. Every story. Every laugh. I’m so grateful we’ve had this unexpected time together.
Somehow our souls have found each other again after all these years, and I know we’ll both carry this time with us long after summer has packed its bags. More goodbyes…
By this stage I genuinely wasn’t sure how much more my heart could hold.

It was only 8pm…
Which, in Greece, basically means the afternoon had only just ended.
The evening, however…Well…
Those shenanigans deserve tomorrow’s diary entry. 🤍🇬🇷

Dear Diary Day 39: A Little Pause
Before the Last Few Chapters 🤍🇬🇷🧿
While I sit on my balcony eating a delicious piece of portokalopita..( orange phyllo pastry cake) I’m not quite sure how I got this lucky?

I’m genuinely going to need someone to explain it to me.
The amount of love, excitement & joy thats been poured into me over the past few weeks has been unreal.
To be fair…my cup, heart & soul were already overflowing
by about Day 3 or 4 of this trip. Now? I truly don’t know how
to compute or articulate the enormity of what I’m feeling.
All I know is… today’s is day 1 of 2.5 travel days to get home😥

My diary hasn’t been posted in real time, so in real life I’m a few days ahead of it…
but in Dear Diary Lexi land, I’m still happily wandering around Samos with a huge smile on my face.
The diary entries are already written.
I write them throughout each day while I’m living them,
then later edit the version I share publicly… mostly to make sure it’s coherent & that nobody runs for the hills,
unfollows me or calls the looney bin,
because I’m fully capable of going from zero to deeply emotional in approximately 14 seconds. 🤣
Today I’m travelling to Athens to squeeze in a very
quick 36 hours with my bestie before heading home.
I really want to be fully present for it.
Also… can someone explain why I’ve suddenly developed radical travel anxiety at 44? What fresh nonsense is this? 😂 and no it may not stick around!

So while I’m offline for the next couple of days,
I’ll leave you in Samos just a little longer.

The final diary instalments will be coming over the week as dear diary me catches up with real life me.
Thank you.
For every comment, every message, every voice note,
every laugh & every person who has chosen to come
travelling with me.
It’s been one of the greatest joys of this whole adventure.

There’s still more to come…
So don’t wander off just yet.
Watch this space. 🤍🇬🇷🧿 # # #

Dear Diary Day 38: The Bonus Week 💙
It’s almost like this extra cheeky week was just meant to be. Bonus time with my cousin. Bonus time with people I wouldn’t have seen.
Bonus beach days. Bonus swims. Bonus gyros.
Bonus sunsets. Bonus everything.
Just… non-stop gratitude.
That Athens flight is starting to loom, & my time in Samos — & this year’s summer chapter in the little house on Blue Street — is slowly wrapping up. Best believe I’ve already made plans to book it again for 2027. 😂

I have a travel list.
A bucket list. A life list. A wish list.
A “things I’d like to see before I become an old yiayia” list…There are… quite a few lists.
And while I’m happily ticking things off, constantly editing, adding and reshuffling them as life unfolds…
I have a sneaking suspicion my destination list might remain suspiciously unchanged for a while.
I sat on the beach yesterday with my second…
Yes. SECOND…Frappé.
For anyone who knows me, this is the equivalent of giving a toddler an espresso martini.
I’ve never had two in one day before.
By 3pm I could hear colours.
I was mentally redecorating houses I don’t own & planning holidays I hadn’t even finished yet. 😂
Which is exactly what happened.
There I was contemplating next year.
That’s normal… right?
That’s how one copes with the impending devastation of leaving…
You simply start booking your return before you’ve even packed your suitcase. Right?

Is it too soon to have already messaged the owners of the house asking whether June and July 2027 might possibly, hypothetically, potentially be available…Just asking for a friend. 🤣The big question was…
Do I go exploring somewhere completely new next year…Or do I come straight back here?
I’m not going to lie.
That question wasn’t exactly a nail-biter.
Right here.💙🇬🇷🧿
I’m coming right back here.

I’m convinced Pam and Allan are stalking me.
Either that, or they’ve accidentally become my official Greek Island groupies.
I’ve seen them on every single island this year.
Syros. Patmos. And now, thanks to my little bonus week…Samos too. I absolutely adore them.
They’re the kind of people you meet once and immediately decide…
“Yep… you’re my people now.”

So sundowners on the Pythagorio harbour was definitely one of my favourite moments.
Naturally we video-called Kori. There was laughing. There was squealing.
There was the collective sadness that she wasn’t sitting there with us too. Now perhaps…
Seeing as we all actually live in Cape Town…
We could potentially catch up there…
Before we accidentally follow each other around Greece for another entire summer. 😂
Back to the house to begin the slow process of regrouping. The puzzle…Has officially been downgraded from “holiday activity” to “home décor.” Meanwhile, Madame Lexi was social butterflying her way around the island like an overconfident Chihuahua that had escaped the garden & was determined to befriend the entire island. Needless to say. The puzzle hasn’t moved.
Not even emotionally. So now it’s slowly packing…
Checking what I still “need” (absolutely do not need) to buy. Tidying. Repacking.
Staring dramatically out the window.
Sighing heavily between every task because I’d genuinely rather gargle with wasps than pack up & leave this place.
But…Athens awaits. Although it’ll be a much shorter stay than originally planned…
I’m still ridiculously excited.
So for now…I’m going to soak up every last drop of Samos goodness. The sunshine. The sea.
The frappés. The gyros. The Palomas.
The bouzoukia. The people.
Every beautiful ordinary moment. Because before I know it…This chapter will quietly become another one of my favourite memories.
And luckily…
Blue Street already knows I’ll be back.