ediblegarnish: windy island

"It's a young people island."
Fine words... when I'm not with my family. No beach rave parties and drinking for 12 hours straight for Amelia.

Getting from port to hotel was a bit of a struggle. For the record, I did think we should start by taking a taxi to the hotel. Because then we would've avoided the awkward hassle that was searching for the correct unmarked street through the narrowest bumpy roads while aggressive natives and tourists on bikes stubbornly try to squeeze around us. Frustration definitely produces a physical response. Don't drive in Mykonos.
At least the brutal climb up to our hotel with suitcase in tow was rewarded with this beautiful view.

Dinner was at Atlantida on the beach of Paraga where we once again had my guilty pleasure snack (little fried fish). With the fluffiest pita rounds I've ever shoved into my mouth.

More seafood spaghetti with some fantastic mussels.

And more fish. Sea bream, in this case. And more roasted veggies, which are much preferred to overdressed side salads or limp and soggy fries.

Complimentary airy donuts drowned in honey and cinnamon came with the check - no complaints here. This is another example of a craveable dessert.

Chora.

Mykonos town is a maze of white washed giant stone blocks housing souvenir vendors, restaurants, and probably residences. We may have gotten lost once or twice... but for the most part, if you just keep wandering, you'll eventually come out to the port, so you can take a deep breath and start all over again. It was terribly windy the entire time, which is whatever when you're watching the waves leap over walls and wash clean concrete from afar. But trying to relax and read on a beach while sand is between blown into your eyes and nostrils is not ideal.

Naturally, there was an overwhelming number of restaurants to try. And since we only had half a day there, I quickly glanced at a couple lists of suggestions, and the only one we stumbled upon was Fato a Mano. I guess not surprisingly, there's a lot of touristy Italian influence, as every restaurant not only offered some form of seafood spaghetti but also a page of risottos and pizzas, which I avoided. But something about the indication of homemade linguine compelled me to order their spaghetti- that and our peppy waiter was very convincing. Not a bad decision because it turned out to be my favorite one with the white wine sauce and juicy head-on shrimps.

Window displays of baskets full of bread undoubtedly have their own magnetic field that seem to draw in my adipocytes. So upon passing Il Forno di Gerasimo, I automatically separated from my family and veered left through the door where there was bar boasting caffeine and fresh herbs on one side and a wall of bread racks on the other. Yumm. If not anything else, I can always be proud that I have a little bit more self control than my dad, who went ahead and got two giant squares of walnut baklava and lemony galaktobureko. But once the purchase is made, there is little else standing between my mouth and food.

Because driving was such a raging bitch, we returned to the beachfront restaurants of Paraga, which was within walking distance, stopping at Thea this time.
Seafood souvlaki with cubes of salmon and swordfish caught my attention. Although I could've done without the steamed veggies (grilled, please, always grilled). I credit all the seafood and olive oil for how I managed to maintain-ish my weight in Greece.

Dad got the fish roe salad with fried shrimps, which was reminiscent of Cheetoh dust in a good way. And look how freaking adorable those little shrimps were. Looks like an under the sea foam party.