Welcome to Tinos

Our arrival on Mykonos runs like clockwork, waved through security without even a glance at our passports, our backpacks already waiting for us, the bus to the ferry port already waiting outside the terminal leaves 5 minutes after we board. There is a fast ferry ready and waiting but we opt for the slow ferry an hour later, partly because it is a fraction of the price at just €8 each instead of €21 but also for the joy of sitting on deck in the sun rather than a sanitised seat and super freezer air conditioning. We join the masses, the port manager blows his whistle, all  aboard, we are swept up the gang plank amidst the excited chatter of Greeks and the clatter of wheelie cases and deposit our backpacks on the car deck in the bay marked Tinos.  There is something auspicious and magical about boarding a ferry with your backpack on.

The sea is rough, the Meltemi wind is exhilarating but the gentle roll of the ferry is relaxing. The taste of the salt lands on our lips from the fine spray of the Aegean. Once again we are in the Greek islands, wonderful start to this trip. 

As the ferry docks at Tinos the gangplank is lowered and as we join the stampede to disembark we scan the harbour for the room sellers, disturbingly there are only two! We are quickly told that the island is full, it seems the Greeks are here for a festival, but we are taken to a small room with a private garden, this will do for two nights, we are assured that Sunday night we will be able to find a room with a sea view, we will see!

The Meltemi wind is an intrinsic part of the Cyclades character, and tonight he is moody; the hot air powers through the town and white horses decorate the sea. Everything from A-boards to table cloths is anchored down. Tamarisk trees bend; doors slam. 

The town is rammed with Athenians here for the festival, the menu looks great. A litre of wine is 8 euros. The hot wind blasts through the square. We are back.