Mykonos in June: eight people, one villa, and the start of a small tradition

Instead of a hotel we rented Villa Divine at Thalasses Villas in Kalafatis, on the eastern side of the island. Four bedrooms, four bathrooms, a big living room, a fully equipped kitchen, a private pool, a large terrace, an outdoor bar, a barbecue and a view of the Aegean. With eight people, a villa made far more sense than a handful of separate hotel rooms. We wanted to be together: meet over coffee in the morning, drift apart during the day, someone by the pool, someone by the sea, and all end up back on the terrace in the evening.

Villa Divine is the largest villa in the complex and sleeps exactly eight. Around it there's a garden, plenty of outdoor space, sunbeds by the pool and a view that very quickly makes you stop worrying about what else you ought to be seeing. The listing even mentioned the option of booking your own butler, a chef, a yacht or a helicopter.

We skipped the helicopter this time.

You have to leave something for the next edition of the tradition.

Friday, 12 June — first look at Villa Divine

A minibus was already waiting outside the airport when we landed, so there was nothing at all to sort out. Eight people, luggage loaded, direction Kalafatis. The drive took thirty to forty minutes, and the further we got from the airport, the more curious I was about what Villa Divine would look like in real life. Photos online are one thing, but you never quite know what's waiting when you step out of the car.

This time the photos hadn't lied.

When we got out of the minibus, you could have cut the excitement with a knife. The lit pool in front of us, the sea beyond it, the beach and a small harbour below. The villa was beautifully lit for the evening, and for a few minutes nothing else mattered. Everyone pulled out their phones and the photographing and filming began. We'd barely left travel mode and each of us already had the first few dozen shots of the pool.

Then came the room allocation. With four bedrooms and eight people it thankfully wasn't advanced maths. My friend and I, however, drew what was probably the weakest room in the villa. The beds were luxuriously comfortable, everything was clean and pleasant. It was just missing one fairly standard feature of a room.

A window.

Yes, our room had no window. In a villa like that you might expect the opposite problem: not knowing which view to look at first. Ours was solved simply.

No view.

Honestly, it didn't bother me in the slightest. I hadn't come to Mykonos to sleep the holiday away in a room. I'd come to soak up the sun, the Greek air, the sea, the food, the atmosphere and, above all, time with my closest friends. The room had a comfortable bed, and for the few hours of sleep a night that was plenty.

Maybe we didn't have a window.

But outside the door we had all of Mykonos.

Once the bags were dropped, we all sat down on the terrace and it quickly became clear that the only serious question of the evening was hunger. The cars weren't due until Saturday, my scooter was supposed to arrive then too, and after a late landing nobody felt like inventing a complicated programme. Delivery won.

And when eight hungry travellers place an order, common sense about quantities clearly takes the night off. Chicken gyros, pork gyros, lamb, falafel, fries, sweet potato fries, cola, mineral water and a bit extra, just in case. When the order arrived, it briefly looked as if we were expecting a second group. Naturally, we'd ordered more than we could eat.

Outside, the wind was unbelievable. On the very first evening Mykonos made it clear that wind here isn't just a detail in the weather forecast. All the nicer, then, to discover that the terrace was so well sheltered we could sit there in complete calm. Greek food on the table, the lit pool beside us, the sea in front of us and the first long conversations of the trip.

We stayed out long after the late dinner. The food was long gone, the part we'd managed anyway, but nobody wanted to go to bed. We talked, laughed, looked at the sea and enjoyed that very first evening, when the whole stay is still ahead of you and you don't yet have to think about how fast time goes.

Santorini had its sequel.

And so far, it looked very good.

Saturday, 13 June — two coffees, a scooter and a first Mykonos Town

On Saturday morning I was the first one up. It was gorgeous outside, blue sky and sun, but the wind clearly had no plans to go anywhere. The first thing I did was make coffee. And since one coffee is sometimes just preparation for the second, I made another straight away, to be safe.

I sat down at the edge of the terrace and for about half an hour just looked at the sea, the beach and the surroundings. No phone, no programme, no thinking about what came next. Just sitting, looking, and for a while having no need to solve absolutely anything. Mornings like that are probably what I love most about travelling.

One by one the others woke up. Some were waiting for their rental cars to be delivered; I was due to get my scooter at eleven. That, at least, was the original plan. In the end the rental people came to pick me up and I had to collect the scooter at their place. No problem. A greeting, a few sentences in Greek, and the paperwork went even faster.

The ride back to the villa was rather more interesting. In places the wind was so strong I felt it might simply blow me off the road. Mykonos explained very quickly that riding a scooter here isn't always the carefree holiday fantasy from the adverts.

When I finally parked at the villa, I changed into swim shorts and headed for the sea. The only catch: between the villa and the beach there were roughly a million steps. All right, possibly slightly fewer, but on the way back up it makes no difference. Down below, though, waited hot sand, the smell of the sea, the water, and the wind still doing its thing.

In the afternoon all eight of us squeezed into two cars and set off to see Mykonos Town. For me it was the first time. Before that, however, came the first local discipline: parking by the harbour.

An attraction in its own right.

Finding a free space felt about as realistic as expecting the wind on Mykonos to stop. A bit of circling, a bit of improvisation, and eventually the cars ended up somewhere.

Then, finally, the town.

Mykonos Town got me almost instantly. White lanes, blue shutters, stone paths, small passages and corners that have you pulling out your phone every few metres. It reminded me a lot of Santorini, yet the town had a completely different energy. Santorini, for me, was about views, the caldera and calm. Mykonos was more compact, livelier, as if constantly in motion.

For dinner we ended up at Tabu Mykonos. I had mussels, octopus and a drink to go with them, so gastronomically there was nothing to complain about. After dinner we wandered the town a while longer, threading through the narrow lanes and enjoying our first evening Mykonos until it was time to get back to the cars.

On the way back we stopped at a shop and restocked the villa. Something for breakfast, soft drinks, not-so-soft drinks, wine, water and all those things that, with eight people, you suddenly need in larger quantities than you ever imagined.

And, most importantly, capsules for the coffee machine.

Some things simply must not be underestimated.

Sunday, 14 June — a morning alone, an evening in Little Venice

On Sunday I was the first one up again. By then that surprised nobody. I'm simply an early bird. I had a coffee, some pastry, and felt like getting on the scooter and heading off somewhere. No big planning, just by mood.

First I made for Frangias Beach, then carried on to Lia Beach. That's where I finally dropped anchor, at Liasti, and made myself my own breakfast-lunch. Coffee, iced tea, octopus carpaccio and the beach in front of me. For a few hours I had absolutely everything I needed.

When I felt like it, I went for a swim. When I came back, a sunbed, clean dry towels and the kind of service I practically didn't have to think about were waiting. No more moving on, no itinerary, no "I still have to see this". Just sea, food, drink and peace.

I spent several hours there, perfectly content. Exactly the kind of morning that shows you don't need to tick off five attractions to feel the day was worth it. Then I got back on the scooter and returned to the villa.

In the evening we all set off together for Mykonos Town again. This time we wanted to see the windmills, Little Venice, and simply roam the town without much of a programme.

In Little Venice I simply had to have a sunset drink.

I sat right at the edge of the terrace with a caipirinha in hand, looked at the sea and felt as on-holiday as it's possible to feel. And then came a wave.

A proper one.

It hit the rocks so well that I got a full-on shower of sea water. From that moment my caipirinha came with a subtle Aegean upgrade. I exchanged a few words with the waiters, we had a couple of shots, and once the drink was finished I went looking for the rest of the group.

On the way I passed Selima Bar and, as usual, was filming something on my phone. And that's when I noticed her.

A small, curly-haired, red-headed singer with incredibly beautiful eyes. She was singing live, and for a moment she caught my attention enough that she ended up in the video I was posting to my Instagram story. I didn't go up to her, I didn't know her name, and after a moment I carried on looking for my friends.

When I found the group, it was time for the classic evening question: where to eat? In the end we agreed on Cocotte Mykonos, and it was an excellent choice. I had the lamb and, honestly, I can still call up its smell and taste. Exactly the kind of dish where, some time later, you can't quite explain what made it so good, but just thinking about it makes you want it in front of you again.

After dinner we split up a little. The girls who stayed with me wanted one more drink, so we ended up at Lotus. No big programme any more, just a drink, conversation, and then a slow drift through the night-time lanes of Mykonos. Nobody was in a hurry, and that was the best thing about it.

Eventually we made it back to the car park by the harbour, got into the cars and headed for the villa.

Sunday really did have everything. A morning to myself, the scooter, two beaches, octopus for breakfast-lunch, the sea, a sunset, a little sea water in my caipirinha, perfect lamb, an evening drink, and one red-haired singer in a bar I'd only walked past.

Not bad for one day.

Monday, 15 June — a last swim and windmills on the backpack

Monday had a different feel. We all knew we were leaving that night, so although almost a whole day still lay ahead, a countdown was already running somewhere at the back of our minds. We'd arranged an evening late checkout with the villa's owner. It wasn't cheap, but with eight people and a late flight it was clearly the best solution. At least we didn't have to pack in the morning and spend the next ten hours working out where to be.

I kept Monday mostly for the surroundings. I returned the scooter and went to have one more look at the little harbour by Divounia Beach. No big programme, more a last quiet walk around the part of the island that had been home for a few days. Then one more swim in the sea and back to the villa.

The rest of the day belonged to the pool.

And since nobody wanted to complicate lunch either, gyros delivery got another turn. A rather nice symmetry, really. We'd started the first evening at the terrace table with ordered Greek food, and we spent the last afternoon just as simply.

One very important thing still remained, though.

A pin for the green backpack.

I didn't want to go into town just for that, so I entrusted this responsible task to a friend. He got no brief. No photo, no "it must have this on it", no list of conditions. I simply trusted him completely.

When he came back, he pulled out a pin with the Mykonos windmills.

It made me happier than a grown man should probably admit. With the joy of a small child I pinned it straight onto the green backpack. Exactly where it belonged. One small piece of metal, but from that moment Mykonos was part of the backpack as much as part of the whole story.

After that, time went unpleasantly fast. A last swim, the last things into the bags, a last look at the pool, the terrace and the sea. The minibus arrived, and it was clear that this time we weren't going to town or to the beach.

Direction: airport.

One last breath of Mykonos air there, onto the plane, and then just the way home. We landed in Bratislava at 00:15.

Three nights earlier we'd been climbing out of a minibus in front of a lit-up Villa Divine, all eight of us photographing the pool. Now Mykonos was behind us.

What remained: photos, videos, the taste of the lamb at Cocotte, sea water in a caipirinha, that short Sunday story from Selima Bar, three days with people with whom one Santorini is slowly turning into a tradition, and one new pin on the green backpack.

The windmills of Mykonos.