Oman: order and beauty

In Charles Baudelaire’s poem L’invitation au voyage (inspired by his travels as a youth), he paints an image of both calmness and oriental splendor.

Là, tout n'est qu'ordre et beauté,

Luxe, calme et volupté.

Swimming through the turquoise waters of Wadi Shab, Oman

I was reminded of his words on a recent trip to Oman, a stunningly beautiful country filled with some of the most charming locals I’ve met on my travels. Upon landing in Muscat in the evening and heading to the rental car booths (highly recommended as an economical and easy way to get around), everyone along the way made me feel welcome, telling me about the city, its origins and its people. I also found it to be a safe country; as a solo female traveller, I was treated everywhere with kindness and respect. After checking into my hotel room, I sat on my balcony, breathing in the fresh sea breeze, enjoying the lingering sensation of saltiness and heat infused with the sweetness of the night.

The following morning, I drove to the MolaMola Diving Center to embark on a day trip to the Dimaniyat Islands, a nature reserve some 40 miles (70 km) northwest of Muscat. The dive boat was full of travellers from around the world, including some locals, and the vibe was one of lighthearted banter and chatter about off the beaten path adventure destinations. The diving was well worth the boat ride out: turtles, cuttlefish, and schools of fish darted around well preserved coral heads with relatively good visibility and a touch of current. Lunch was served on board the boat, and the rocking of the waves lulled us into a deep satiety as we returned to Muscat. I spent much of the rest of the day working, venturing out to the nearby Royal Opera House to admire the architecture and for an evening stroll along the waterfront, where families, couples, and groups of friends created a lively atmosphere.  

Muscat waterfront, Oman

After a light breakfast, I drove south, arriving roughly 90 minutes later at Wadi Shab for a fun adventure combining hiking and swimming. From the parking area, a short boat ride run by locals for 1 rial per person takes you across the river to the start of a scenic hike to a series of natural pools carved over centuries by the moving water. Despite starting early in the morning with few others along the trail, I found I was baking in the heat of the sun by the time I reached the first pool after about 40 minutes. Stripping down to my bathing suit, I put my belongings in a dry bag and began swimming through a series of 3 pools until I reached a narrow crevasse with a shining turquoise pool of water on the other side. A small waterfall gushes in from yet another small pool just above, reachable by a thick rope over wet rock for those seeking more thrills. Lingering, I enjoyed turning all my senses to the sights and sounds of nature, letting any everyday worries flow away with the sound of the water amplified by the rocks around me, carved over centuries. It was a subtle reminder that this river has flowed long before you or me, and will likely continue long after we cease to exist. 

Hiking through Wadi Shab, Oman

Wadi Tiwi, Oman

The wadis in Oman come in all shapes and sizes; based on a recommendation from a new friend on the dive boat, I ventured further south along a winding mountain road to Wadi Tiwi. From the parking area, a series of steps lead downwards to a set of pools in a rainbow of green-blue hues. Swimming was a respite from the ever-present heat, and scrambling around a few rocks yielded a stunning view into a deep canyon where the river widened before disappearing from view around the bend. I encountered just five other people who expressed surprise that I had driven myself in a rental sedan; most visitors arrive with a local guide in a 4x4. Rest assured, you’ll fare just fine in any vehicle, but do check the road conditions in advance.

Bimmah sinkhole, Oman

En route back to Muscat via villages forgotten in time, I stopped at the Bimmah sinkhole, which was full of visitors in the afternoon. Many were swimming in its crystal clear waters, but this may be a bit of a letdown after you’ve experienced the wadis further south. Instead, I recommend continuing onwards to Mutrah, a port town just east of Muscat, and enjoying a traditional Omani meal at Bait Al Luban. Their rendition of shuwa, a classic Omani celebration dish of marinated meat roasted in an underground firepit for hours, was fantastic, as was the shorbat adass, a lentil soup enhanced with local spices. Afterwards, get lost in the myriad of wares at the Mutrah Souq, or stroll along the Mutrah Corniche to admire the views of the fort and whitewashed buildings set against a backdrop of sharp mountainous peaks. 

Mutrah corniche, Oman

Mutrah souq, Oman

Muscat itself features numerous attractions, ranging from local sweets at Al Hosni to exotic fragrances at the Amouage perfume centre. With just a few days, I lacked the time to visit the Musandam Peninsula, renowned for its diving, or the picturesque villages of the Al Hajar mountains. But trying to experience all these places in one visit would be a mistake; Oman is the type of place that invites you to return, time and time again, with the feeling of always wanting more. 

Là, tout n'est qu'ordre et beauté,

Luxe, calme et volupté.

Infinity pool overlooking the Gulf of Oman

Socotra, Yemen: untouched frontiers

I remember reading about the remote island of Socotra, Yemen, as a young girl. Known as the Galapagos of the Middle East, with nearly 40% of its plants and trees found nowhere else on the planet, Socotra seemed almost unreal. Isolated from the mainland over 6 million years ago, its endemic species resemble something out of a science fiction novel - dragon blood trees (so named for their red sap), bottle trees, and the elusive Socotran chameleon. This year, I decided to make my lifelong dream of visiting the island a reality.

Bottle nose tree, Socotra

Visiting Socotra takes some planning: there is just one flight a week, run as a charter flight via Air Arabia out of Abu Dhabi. You cannot book the flight online; you’ll need to work with a tour operator to arrange it as well as your visa. I went with Piotr (Peter), founder of Pazola Travel, who has arranged multiple trips to the island over the years and seamlessly arranged this one. He is also one of the few operators to prominently feature scuba diving on multiple days of the trip; he is a long time instructor with over 8,000 dives under his belt. Our group of 8 met at the Abu Dhabi airport, having packed all of our scuba diving gear, sleeping bags and headlamps, and lightweight clothes for hiking and adventures in the heat. This is a trip for the adventure-minded: we typically spent the night camping or in relatively basic accommodations, and there are no frills (and very few items available for purchase) once you arrive on Socotra for the week.

Sunset at camp in Dihamri, Socotra

Upon arrival in Hadibo, the largest town on Socotra with a population of roughly 10,000, we were greeted by our guide, Abdularuf, and three drivers with their respective Toyota Land Cruisers, who would be with us for the week. We spent the first night at the Summerland motel, a popular and clean choice in town that even offers some basic breakfast and limited wifi. We headed out for lunch at the most popular restaurant in town, which served grilled fish, chicken, piping hot freshly made local flatbread, and an assortment of freshly squeezed juices (highly recommended). 

Cooking local flatbread in Hadibo

Hadibo at night

Hadibo itself is relatively vibrant, with plenty of locals walking around (women dressed in black in full burqas and men in traditional local colorful dress), mingling with goats and scores of trash (there is no place to discard of trash on the island, and unfortunately most of it ends up on the streets). This is also a place of extreme poverty: most things that end up on the island must be imported, and this is not cheap (or affordable for most of the population living off the land). At the aforementioned restaurant, any food not consumed by paying customers was promptly carried off to an ever-present group of hungry people who didn’t have the means to pay for a meal. At many of the small villages we passed during our time on the island, we encountered groups of children and families subsisting on the bare minimum to survive. Socotra is truly a sobering place that reminds us of just how small and insignificant we all are.

We are the lucky ones, the ones able to sit back in the Land Cruisers and explore the length of this unique and stunningly beautiful place. Our first stop was the Dihamri marine reserve, the longest coral reef on Socotra, where we set up camp for the night and completed a checkout dive with the only local scuba instructor, Walid. The reef is in near pristine condition, a testament to what our planet might be like with sustainable fishing operations. We observed reef sharks, turtles, and thick forests of richly coloured hard and soft coral gardens. I saw no discernible coral bleaching, which I’ve sadly grown used to as the norm at most dive spots around the world. This is a real underwater paradise–and what’s more, equally amazing for divers as well as snorkelers, as many sites have a maximum depth of 30 ft (10m). After our second dive, we hiked among the nearby bottle trees and gazed into the depths of the Arabian Sea as the setting sun turned everything around us a rainbow of red. 

Homhil, Socotra

Arher beach, Socotra

The next morning, we set off further east towards the landscape-dominating sand dunes of Arher. We detoured towards Homhil in the mountains in the interior, from where we hiked with a local guide through dragon’s blood trees and curved canyons shaped by centuries of water culminating in nearby pools overlooking the plateau below us blending into the sea. We trekked down the mountain towards the beach at Arher, where we enjoyed a late afternoon swim with dolphins and a myriad of fish in crystal clear waters. After a quick rinse in the nearby river, we set up camp for the night directly on the beach, falling asleep to the crashing waves. Waking up about an hour before dawn, we hiked up the cool dunes in darkness to enjoy from the top one of the most beautiful sunrises I’ve seen in my travels. 

Sunrise from Arher sand dunes, Socotra

After descending for a light breakfast by our camp, we headed to the easternmost part of Socotra, the fishing village of Irsal, from where we dove a shipwreck covered in decades of reef growth: giant clams, mussels, and bits of hard coral. Afterwards, backtracking eastwards, we completed a second dive (my favourite of the trip) at Rosh. Diving below the surface, we encountered one of the most beautiful and pristine hard coral gardens I’ve ever seen, full of life: a pair of lobsters chasing each other around coral heads, abundant schools of butterflyfish, and a rich microcosm of tiny nudibranch, shrimp, and crabs. 

Colourful fishing boats in the village of Irsal, Socotra

Children swinging from a dragon blood tree, Socotra

A path through the dragon blood trees in Dicksam, Socotra

Dragon blood trees in Dicksam, Socotra

We next ventured into the interior of Socotra, into the depths of Dicksam, reachable via an extremely rocky and long road full of switchbacks. We were rewarded by a sea of dragon’s blood trees stretching in every direction and some of the clearest night skies still largely untouched by human life (and light). We walked through the trees as afternoon turned to dusk turned to night, a showcase of stars complementing the ancient trees around us. The best places I’ve travelled to are the ones that remind you of your fleeting existence on this planet and the immensity and greatness of the world around us; they fill you with hope that despite our destructive tendencies, humans will find a way to live sustainably and coexist with the products of millions of years of evolution. Socotra is one of these places.

The road to Dicksam

Watching the sunset over dragon blood trees, Socotra

The endless night sky in Dicksam, Socotra

Our last two days on Socotra were spent in the far western stretches of the island, miles from other human beings on the beach of Shouab. The decades-old wreck of a large Qatari ship stretches just offshore, offering plentiful sightings of goliath groupers, schools of tang, and numerous sting rays. We spent two dives here; we could have done ten and that wouldn’t have been sufficient. The privilege of being able to dive in such a remote place was not lost on us, and we emerged from the sea feeling changed. 

Pristine Shouab beach, Socotra

If you have even the inkling of a feeling to make your way to Socotra, go: this is a place lost in time, unlike any other on Earth. It doesn’t take long to fall into its rhythm, letting go of the business of the outside world, in favour of a more peaceful, simple existence. This is true paradise for those lucky enough to visit. 

What to pack

Pack lightly, but bring essentials such as medications, a fully charged power bank (minimum 30000 mAh depending on the devices you are bringing), extra memory cards for your camera, etc. You’ll want to travel solely with soft-sided luggage (ideally duffel bags that can be both carried and wheeled). Leave your drone at home; there’s a high chance it will be confiscated by airport authorities in the UAE, where they are illegal.

Most operators will travel with local crew, including a guide, drivers, and chef. The food on our trip exceeded all expectations: a rotating cast of local chicken, freshly caught fish, and the ubiquitous goat, all prepared by our cook in the open air by our camp.

A friendly local on Socotra

If you intend on going with an operator who offers scuba diving, you’ll want to bring all of your own gear, as essentially none is available for rent on the island given there is a sole divemaster. Tanks and weights are of course available, but I recommend bringing an extra mask and ensuring your dive computer has a good working battery. Walid (the local scuba instructor) has a few other pieces of gear for rent, but given the remoteness of the island, the selection is limited and prices are steep. 

Fun fact: There are three things you will see endless amounts of on Socotra: goats, pufferfish, and vultures.

Detwah lagoon, Socotra

St Lucia: crystal waters, cocoa, and craters

Few places have it all, but St Lucia is a serious contender. Staggering deep green mountains for hiking and climbing, rainforest trails filled with coffee and cacao trees, coral reefs teeming with life, and volcanic hot springs paired with a rejuvenating mud bath? Yes, yes, yes, and yes. What’s more, the people are some of the kindest I’ve met anywhere, and delicacies like saltfish and green figs, or freshly caught grilled fish paired with the local hot sauce, will leave you wanting for more.

View of the Pitons flying into St Lucia

Flying into Hewanorra International airport, I was treated to a spectacular view of the green-covered twin peaks of Gros and Petit Piton (large and small, for the non-francophone), and quickly began to settle into island time. We stayed at Sweet Breezes, a simple but spacious rental home a stone’s throw from the more upscale Tet Rouge resort in a less populated area, and at night we marveled for hours at the vast quantity of stars we could see from our roof deck due to little light pollution. A few minutes’ walk took us to a small beach, where at night the waves shone with bioluminescence as they lapped the shoreline. This is a place where time seems to slow, allowing you to reconnect to what’s truly important. 

Sunset, St Lucia

Jalousie beach, St Lucia

The sea here teems with life, and you’ll be treated to schools of bright yellow grunts, squads of hovering squid, and a lone camouflaging octopus or two whether you snorkel or scuba dive. I did a couple of great dives with Chester, who runs Action Adventure Divers out of Soufriere at the base of the Pitons. We sought out invasive lionfish during our dives, which Chester speared and then asked a friend to fry for us next to the dive shop. One of the best snorkeling spots is on the north side of Jalousie beach, which you can reach by boat or by road via the Viceroy’s high-end Sugar Beach resort. We saw moray eels both freeswimming and emerging from hiding spots in the coral, inquisitive Caribbean reef squid traveling in family-size units, and a pair of pillow-sized porcupine fish. All beaches in St Lucia are public, and we enjoyed strolling along the sand, admiring the Pitons towering on either side of us. We followed with local greens, grilled fish, fried chicken, and passionfruit-flavoured drinks at the beachside restaurant, our feet in the sand as the sun set into the sea.

St Lucian sunset

View of Petit Piton whilst hiking Gros Piton

Feeling up for an adventure, the next day we awoke early to hike up Gros Piton. Upon arriving at the trailhead, we were paired with a local guide and asked to pay a $50 USD entry fee, which goes to the local community (note: you cannot go up without a guide and at least 1.5L of water per person, though I’d recommend bringing 2L or more). Reaching the summit requires roughly 2 hours of mostly uphill hiking, with 3 spots spaced roughly 30 minutes apart to stop, rest, and enjoy the views along the way. We were rewarded with a sense of accomplishment and spectacular views of both Petit Piton (a more difficult summit, involving some climbing) and the southern expanses of St Lucia, with the peak of La Soufriere volcano on St Vincent visible in the distance. The way down felt longer, as it often does, but fortunately a small hut selling delicious homemade ice cream and an assortment of cold drinks awaits.

Volcano crater on St Lucia

St Lucia is also one of the few places you can drive into the crater of an active volcano. We were greeted by the strong smell of sulphur and a few friendly local employees, who took us to a lookout point from where we saw an assortment of bubbling hot pools and heard stories about the history and formation of the area. Afterwards, we dipped into the nearby mineral hot springs, slathering ourselves in volcanic mud with revitalising properties that locals and tourists alike swear by. Our skin did feel baby soft for a few hours afterwards, so it’s certainly worth a shot.

Should you be craving a different kind of bath, nearby is the Toraille waterfall, a pretty 50 foot (15 metre) drop into a cold wading pool—stand under it for a nice back massage. Alternatively, nearby is Hotel Chocolat, an eco hotel with a spa featuring exfoliating scrubs and massages with oils made from the cacao beans grown locally on the property. Feeling sufficiently relaxed, we toured the cacao groves, and our patient guide taught us how to make our own chocolate bars from the raw ingredients. Spoiler: it requires patience and a lot of grinding pestle against mortar, and results in some of the best chocolate you’ll ever have. 

Our patient guide at Hotel Chocolat

Anse Mamin beach, St Lucia

Desiring more time in the sea, we headed to the nearby beaches of Anse Chastanet and Anse Mamin. Accessible by boat or car, both feature large expanses of sand lapped by crystal clear waters with dramatic rock-hewn backdrops. The high-end, open air sister resorts of Jade Mountain and Anse Chastanet are located here, and we enjoyed the fish ceviche served in a coconut along with delicious burgers on the beach at the relatively quieter Anse Mamin. Whiling away an afternoon alternating between swimming, reading, and sunbathing was enough to forget the outside world, and splurging on a couple of nights at the nearby Caille Blanc villa was definitely the right choice.

A short drive or walk from the beach, Caille Blanc perches dramatically on the hillside, with an infinity pool overlooking perhaps the best view of the Pitons. The view is overshadowed only by the friendly staff, who will ensure your stay is as magical as their island. I spent hours gazing over the expanse of ocean and mountains, and the image of the twin Piton peaks remains etched in my mind like an invitation. It’s a place you’ll want to linger, taken in by its serenity as you reflect on how lucky we are to live in this world.

View of the Pitons from the infinity pool at Caille Blanc, St Lucia

Where to eat, drink, and stay

Jungle grill, Anse Mamin beach

Sweet Breezes rental home, Choiseul, Soufriere

Hotel Chocolat

Caille Blanc Villa

A few notes on logistics

In current times, you’ll need a negative covid PCR test taken within 72 hours of arrival to St Lucia. I recommend doing this early, as you’ll need to upload it to the tourism portal, after which you’ll wait to receive an email with a QR code that you’ll need in order to enter the country. If you stay at more than one hotel in the country during your stay, some may require an additional test. To return to the U.S., you’ll need a negative test taken within 24 hours. As I found pricing for this to be quite high on the island, I brought a travel-approved test with me from the U.S., which I took under a doctor’s supervision via video call from my laptop. 

Having a car is essential to getting around the island (unless you’re willing to splurge on repeated outings from your hotel or rental) and gives you the freedom to explore. Many attractions are concentrated along the western side of the island, and the region around Soufriere is great to use as a base. If you’re looking to explore the whole island, keep in mind that driving distances can be significantly longer than they appear on Google Maps due to the frequent curves and potholes you’ll encounter on the roads; driving from the southern part of the island to the north without stopping will likely take about 3-4 hours. I highly recommend the locally-run Sacred Heart car rental - communication was easy, and everything went smoothly.

Northern lights, frozen lakes and gastronomic delights: Swedish Lapland

Few experiences compare to the magic of watching the ever-shifting greens, purples, and pinks of the aurora borealis (or australis in the southern hemisphere) dancing above you in the night sky. While I was lucky enough to witness the aurora in Finland a few years back, I was eager for more. I spent several weeks in northern Sweden during the winter, getting to know remote northern towns and people, incorporating skiing, hiking, and great meals along the way. 

Flying over northern Sweden into Lapland

While the lights are active year round, they are best seen in the early fall or spring in the northern hemisphere (September-November or February-April) on a clear night between 65° and 72° North. Some of the most popular places for viewing include Alaska, Canada, Greenland, the Faroe Islands, Iceland, Norway, Sweden, and Finland. There is of course no guarantee, and sometimes the lights may appear for just a few minutes, while at others you may be lucky enough to see them for hours. Ideally, you’ll want to be outside of any urban areas to avoid light pollution. 

Ice skaters on the frozen lake near Puoltsa, Sweden

I flew to Kiruna in northern Sweden from Stockholm in early November and rented a car at the airport. The flight there was magical in itself, as we passed numerous frozen lakes and rivers snaking their way through the countryside. For the first few nights, I stayed at a cabin rented by a local family in the small village of Puoltsa overlooking a lake on which you can ice skate in winter. There are a few nearby walking trails, and on three nights, I saw the northern lights from right next to the cabin. It was an otherworldly experience to see the sun rise around 9am and set in the early afternoon, with many hours of a golden twilight both before and after. A few hours after it became fully dark, around 10pm, the lights made their appearance, ebbing and waning as they swirled through the sky. 

The aurora and stars viewed from my cabin [shot on iPhone]

Winter views of Kebnekaise, Sweden

Reindeer at Arctic Gourmet Cabin

From Puoltsa, you can drive to the end of the road at Nikkaluokta, from where a number of hiking trails start, including views of Kebnekaise, Sweden’s highest peak. Be sure to buy any supplies you may need before leaving Kiruna, as there are no markets in this area. Another place to stay is the Arctic Gourmet Cabin, run by a small family, featuring an outdoor hot tub and a wood-fired sauna. Over dinner one evening, I got to know a local couple who were treating themselves to a night out, as Johan Löfgren, our host and chef extraordinaire, served us a fantastic set of courses sourced locally. Standouts included reindeer roasted over an outdoor fire paired with mushrooms and a vegetable puree as well as moose with coffee cheese (a Swedish specialty) that would not have been out of place in a high-end restaurant. Afterwards, I stargazed from the hot tub, searching for a glimpse of the aurora.

Another evening, I stopped off for dinner at the nearby Icehotel in Jukkasjärvi, where I sampled Kalix roe (harvested from the freshwater fish vendace, found in local lakes) on rye bread and a poached, buttery-textured arctic char fillet. Many of the guests were staying at the hotel in rooms made entirely of ice (rebuilt every fall), a fun albeit pricey novelty. Just down the road, you can learn about the indigenous Sámi culture and go reindeer sledding at Nutti Sámi Siida.  

Gällivare, a village en route to Jokkmokk

Lake Vajkijaure near Jokkmokk, Sweden

Venturing south from Kiruna, I stayed for a couple of nights just north of Jokkmokk, a sizeable town with a few hotels and restaurants. I woke up each morning to walk along the frozen, snow-covered lake Vajkijaure bathed in various shades of blue, yellow and pink in frigid, face-freezing -15C temperatures. I picked up some Kalix and rainbow trout roes as well as reindeer at the Jokkmokk sausage and smokehouse, which also carries some local handicrafts. 

My cabin at the Arctic Bath Hotel, Sweden

From Jokkmokk, I continued towards my splurge of the trip: a night at the newly opened Arctic Bath hotel. Featuring just five overwater cabins and three larger land cabins, I felt any worried thoughts of meetings and to do lists dissipate as I fell into the calming rhythms of the place. I stayed at one of the water cabins and loved every minute. After checking in, I was gifted a bathing suit and robe and escorted along the pathway over snow-covered ice to my cabin, featuring a wraparound wooden deck. Inside, the cabin had an automatic wood fireplace that chirped soothingly as it dropped in extra pieces of wood until the cabin was heated to the desired temperature. I walked over to the main building for the afternoon’s complimentary introduction to the array of saunas, hot tubs, and arctic plunge pool included in each stay. The session was led by Ana, a transplant from Brasil who had me relaxed in no time as she demonstrated exercises to try in one of the lemongrass-scented wood-fired saunas. Together, we took turns absorbing the heat emanating from the slow crackle of the sauna followed by the intensely contrasting, skin-awakening sensation of jumping into the winter waters of the river on which the hotel lies (a motor keeps the waterhole swirling so that it does not freeze over). After a few rounds of this, I spent some time in the steam sauna, and finished in the outdoor hot tub overlooking the river. Having worked up an appetite, I made my way to the dining room for dinner, where I was treated to a creatively presented and stunningly tasty set of courses. The traditional Swedish dish of reindeer with lingonberries and mashed potatoes was both juicy and crunchy, and I asked for seconds of the in-house smoked butter and rye bread. I slept soundly that night wrapped in incredibly comfortable bedding, and I woke up the next morning ready for more adventure.

One of the saunas at the Arctic Bath Hotel

The arctic plunge at the Arctic Bath Hotel

The ever-present fall twilight in northern Sweden

Where to eat, drink, and stay

Jokkmokk sausage & smokehouse (gourmet market with local products)

Arctic Gourmet Cabin, Kaalasjärvi

Arctic Bath Hotel, Harads

Nearby is the not-to-be-missed Tree Hotel, designed by some of the same architects as the Arctic Bath Hotel, featuring a dozen unique cabins made of different materials. One resembles a bird’s nest; another, shaped as a flying saucer, looks ready for takeoff. While I didn’t get the chance to stay there, I hope to revisit it on a future trip.

UFO cabin at the Tree Hotel

Bird’s nest cabin at the Tree Hotel

The allure of islands

“We live—as we dream—alone…” - Joseph Conrad

These words of Conrad’s resonated with me when I first read them in Heart of Darkness years ago. In many ways, we live independently, never truly knowing the depths of others. For years, I’ve been drawn to remote islands when I travel, and since travel isn’t quite possible right now, I’ve taken some time to reflect on why. Islands are solitary, independent, stoic—they don’t care whether you tend to them or not; they can fend for themselves. They’re the perfect escape, and yet, they are also inescapable. The next ship or flight out may not be for a few days, and until that time, you’re committed. 

One of my favourite beaches on Ikaria

One of my first trips to an island was to Ikaria, which, according to Greek mythology, is formed from the remains of Icarus, who flew too close to the sun. Ikaria is a spectacular mix of dramatic, steep mountains inhabitable only by goats and stunning beach coves where the cliffs meet the sea. Though the island briefly gained some popularity following a New York Times article describing the island’s inhabitants’ longevity (many currently live well into their 90s or later), spurring a wave of dining on Mediterranean staples, it remains a calm and simple place. In a way, things here are much as they were 50 years ago, and perhaps even further back. There is no room for posturing on an island of this size, as everyone knows each other, and gossip remains a vital form of currency. With roots in Ikaria, Mihalis Kavouriaris has been running a language school high up on the northern side of the island, by the village of Arethousa, for over 20 years. Offering a range of relatively intensive courses in Greek language and culture, the school attracts students both young and old, with one thing in common: a sense of adventure. Reaching Ikaria involves a flight into Athens, followed by a transfer to the port of Piraeus, after which you board a ferry for the six hour ride to Evdilos or Agios Kirykos, the two port towns on Ikaria. You can also fly to Ikaria, bypassing some of the journey, but that feels a bit too easy. It was, after all, Odysseus who showed us that the journey is just as important as the destination. 

A beach on the eastern side of Ikaria

The port town of Evdilos on Ikaria

Once at the school, mornings and early afternoons are occupied with classes, but the sun of the midday and late afternoon are all yours. I spent many a scorching afternoon daydreaming at the small outdoor tables overlooking the Aegean (on a clear day, the island of Chios and mainland Turkey come into view), writing down my hopes and dreams for the future. For what I might become. Islands can push you to take a hard look inside yourself and reflect on what you are, and what you want to be, in a way that no other place can. Islands, after all, are focused on survival: what truly matters? What do we need to live? 

The Seychelles

A few years ago, I was lucky enough to travel to a much more remote set of four islands, the Aldabra Group in the Seychelles. Uninhabited save for a few researchers who receive supplies by ship several times a year, this group of atolls was spared destruction by humans because it has no source of fresh water. It is the only place in the world besides the Galápagos where the giant tortoise roams, and you feel very much a passing visitor to a foreign land. You can reach one of the islands, Assumption, by small plane, but you’ll need a ship to see anything else. We travelled there aboard the National Geographic Orion, setting sail from Dar es Salaam in Tanzania a few days prior. One evening, we came ashore from the ship via Zodiac and witnessed sea turtle hatchlings heading out to sea under the superbly clear southern sky. Never had I seen such a dizzying array of stars, so many that it seemed there was more light than darkness in the sky. With the warm Indian Ocean lapping at our feet, it was comforting to feel that we were the only humans around for miles, in a place inaccessible to others: that is also the magic of an island. 

A giant tortoise on Aldabra island

Much of the enchantment of islands is not immediately visible—you’ll need to go below the surface. Aldabra is a coral atoll, and with the tide, while scuba diving or snorkeling, you can drift into its inner lagoon, the current pushing you along its abundant reefs and wildlife in a crystal-clear reverie. Schools of snapper, aggregations of eagle rays, and solitary sea turtles pass by with the most imperceptible of nods. Just offshore, shivers of black-tipped reef sharks circle in the shallows, and you immediately feel a sense of wonder for these often-feared animals. These sharks have no interest in humans, preferring to explore the warm waters in search of fish and to play-fight among themselves. But they are curious: upon dipping a camera into the water, I quickly found a young shark investigating this novel intruder, nudging with its snout to test its boundaries. 

The Faroe Islands

Some islands have developed rich cultures that over centuries have thrived on their seclusion. The Faroe Islands, accessible by plane from Copenhagen, are a place I’ve often dreamed of during this quarantine. Due to the islands’ remoteness, the local people have developed a way of life drawing on their creativity and resourcefulness: food is often fermented to preserve its nutrients for harder times, and no piece of any animal is wasted. More remote villages have been connected via an intricate network of tunnels to ensure passage even during rough seas, resulting in a dispersed but also interdependent population. The islands’ beauty feels all the more striking due to their isolation: you recognise what a privilege it is to experience such a place, to hike for miles in the company of nature, without coming across another human being.

The Faroe Islands

Manhattan from above

And yet, the beauty of islands does not necessarily lie in their remoteness. Some are inhabited so densely that you might easily forget you’re on one. Manhattan is a perfect example: you could live your entire life without leaving, and its connections to the rest of New York City are so heavily trafficked as to feel permanent. Bridges, ferries, subways, buses, bikes are constantly buzzing, and the sense of scarcity here is defined more by the distance between the haves and the have nots. Yet each time I see the Manhattan skyline after some time away, I’m filled with an overwhelming sense of possibility: all humanity is here, and you can find anything you like, at any time of day or night. Authentic Colombian arepas? Just around the corner. Some of the best sushi in the world, flown in daily from Tsukiji fish market in Japan? A few blocks’ walk. A strong community of multi-generational Italians? A short subway ride. In the midst of so much activity, you feel that you are a part of something, that you belong. In the end, perhaps that’s what we live for: this sense of belonging. In many ways, islands group like-minded people, allowing us to share our feelings, plans, and dreams. They are reminders of what we really are.

What place do you dream of?

The most beautiful city in the world

For more island reading, check out this piece by scientist Vivien Cumming.