Grees Oregano, Oranges + Olive Groves

I love the orange trees lining winter Athenian avenues. And the people who open their doors and their hearts to you. I love the Greek markets with baskets of gorgeous red just-flowered pistachios, piles of figs and very wild hilltop greens sitting next to indifferent mountains of underwear. Everywhere, amongst the pervasive smell of fresh oregano, there is an atmosphere of people doing their own thing, each stepping in tune to their own internal guide. Greece is magnetic, they say. Once you have stepped on Greek ground it’s hard to shake yourself free. Myth has it that it’s because your feet become stuck in the rich honey coating this country. It’s the only place where people have always wished me a good week, month, day, summer, winter, life, work... and a birthday wish to grow old with white hair.