MYKONOS , GREECE
My last trip to Mykonos felt like salt-kissed freedom — slow, sun-soaked, and beautifully unhurried.
We flew direct from Dubai into Mykonos Airport (a blessing, truly — no ferry meant no fuss) and settled into ILIOR Resort, a quiet villa hidden away from the island's heartbeat. Days passed softly there: cicadas humming, the pool shimmering in afternoon light, with the rest of the world muted to a gentle, golden pace.
We cooked often — fresh produce, crusty bread grilled to a light char, meat from the fabulous Kokorus Butchery, seafood from the market still scented with the sea. Those home gatherings became some of my favorite memories.
One night, we had Irini's Catering send two lovely Greek women, Ana and Sophia, to help host a dinner at the villa. The food was honest, traditional, purely Greek — and they knew exactly how to cook their way into our hearts. Their ease in the kitchen, their laughter, the way Sophia folded saganaki like second nature. I loved that dinner so much that I invited them back another day, not to cook for us, but to teach me their secrets.
“When someone lets you into their kitchen knowledge, it feels a little like being handed a piece of history.”
Sophia showed me how to layer filo for baklava, brushing butter and olive oil like strokes from a paintbrush. She guided me through spanakopita — spinach, feta, soft herbs — making sure I folded it until my hands knew it on their own. Ana, the queen of fresh calamari, insisted the only thing you need is a good tossing of flour. No salt, she instructed. It has enough from the seawater.
We talked about olive oil, honey, family recipes. I carried those flavors home like keepsakes.
That afternoon, with flour dusted across the counter and sun leaking through the windows, felt like Greece in its most authentic form.
Even in our seclusion, island glamour was never far (you know you're in Mykonos when the local supermarket has a DJ and disco lights). A short drive could take us into the pulse of Mykonos: wine, music, late dinners, candlelight. A sunset drink at Scorpios, a moonlight meal at Spilia were always within reach. Xarathymio, a casual taverna known for its fire-licked meats, became a family favorite.
My favorite beach was Agrari — elegant, understated, and the perfect place to reset. A far cry from some of the other beaches on the island where music pumped from morning to night.
On this trip, there was room for both stillness and sparkle: barefoot mornings and dressed-up nights. Mykonos made space for everything — slow mornings, warm kitchens, the scent of oregano, laughter carried on wind. But it also gave us moments of glitter, of dining under silver sky while feeling electric and alive.
And somewhere between those dualities — between the pool at ILIOR and the filo in Ana's hands — I understood why people return to this island year after year.
