A burst of excitement hits me as I realize what I ’ m seeing . It ’ s the first morning aboard a Greek Isles cruise — my first since before the pandemic — and we are just about to arrive in port . I fling back the covers and rush out onto the balcony , peering over the railing alongside a few other sleepy-eyed travelers . The water is completely still as it often is this early in the morning , no sounds of waves or eager seagulls or even the clanking of breakfast service . Just silence as the sun peeks over a distant island to the east , casting a crimson spotlight over only the highest nearby mountain peaks .
As we round the corner of another rugged , uninhabited island , the port drifts into view — an amphitheater of sugar cube houses crowned with a towering Byzantine monastery . The silence is broken with faint gasps and camera shutter clicks from neighboring staterooms .
Shifting with each passing moment , deep blue shadows dissolve into ripples of reds and oranges . The Aegean is now aglow with the golden hues of sunrise .
As the ship maneuvers alongside the dock , a sharply dressed butler arrives with breakfast : a full white-linen spread served with fresh-squeezed orange juice , steaming coffee and a front-row view of nearing Patmos , a tiny Aegean island in Greece ’ s Dodecanese region . Inching within earshot , the waking village is alive with the sounds of a typical weekday morning . The clattering of a shopkeeper unrolling the door to her storefront . A meowing stray cat loitering outside the local bakery . Buzzing mopeds zooming up the hillside . “ Kalimera !” I hear the port officer shout from the dock below . I finish the last drops of my coffee just as the gangway is lowered . �
Remote church on a cliff in Greece
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