A Sun-Soaked Search For Paradise With Unexpected Twists.
When Thom started school, we knew Holland was our home base until graduation.
My own childhood was filled with moves and adapting to new countries thanks to my parents’ lifestyle, and I didn’t want Thom to go through the same dizzying experience.
But we also knew that post-graduation, Holland wasn’t our forever home.
We dreamed of island life—a place both sunny and warm, and importantly, close to both Israel and Holland.
Over the years, this dream grew stronger, and we devised a master plan.
Every year, we would vacation on a potential “home” island to see if it ticked all the boxes.
And one of our first contenders? The beautiful island of Crete.
Just a few hours by plane from both Holland and Israel.
Crete offered that breezy Mediterranean vibe we craved, with mountains, beaches, and a deep historical richness as the cradle of the Minoan civilization.
For me, an archaeology fanatic, Crete was practically Disneyland.
So, in the summer of 2011, we packed our bags for Crete and prepared to explore the island with an agenda packed with all the must-sees.
To make things easy, I even booked a full-service tour with a driver and guide, ensuring we’d skip the hassle and jump straight into relaxation (or so I hoped).
Traveling with a teenager has its own challenges, so to keep things harmonious, we invited Thom’s childhood friend, Uma, along. Brilliant choice.
The two of them entertained each other while Yoni and I had our own fun.
What I forgot was that August in the Mediterranean can feel like a scene from Dante’s Inferno.
It was so hot we could practically feel our shoes melting into the sidewalk.
Our itinerary was a balance of the known and the hidden gems of Crete.
We found joy in visiting places off the beaten path, far from the crowds, though the crystalline blue Mediterranean kept popping up everywhere we looked like a postcard backdrop.
Each day started early to avoid the midday heat and make the most of the sights, though there was one place I absolutely had to see—the ancient site of Knossos.
The rest of my travelling group – declined.
Now, Knossos isn’t just any ruin.
This sprawling palace complex was the beating heart of Minoan civilization from around 2000 to 1400 BCE, a world unto itself filled with palaces, homes, and a maze of hallways.
Back in the ’80s, I spent a summer there as a student, learning preservation and excavation.
I felt almost honor-bound to go back and pay my respects to this ancient wonder.
After two hours roaming around with thousands of tourists (and temperatures that rivaled a sauna), I’d had enough.
But it was worth it to reconnect with the place that had ignited my archaeological passion.
One afternoon, as we lounged on the beach, gazing out at the brilliant blue water.
We were all in stitches over Yoni’s attempts at impersonating cactus plants, espresso machines, and just about anything that came to mind.
Then, out of nowhere, a caravan of mopeds came buzzing down the shore, the drivers wobbling like a circus act.
Right in front of us, one elderly rider flipped off his moped, and his guide didn’t even notice.
He and the rest of the group continued on, oblivious.
Naturally, Yoni (and a few other beachgoers) dashed to help.
A small crowd gathered around the man, who was older and clearly a bit flustered.
As he muttered in a language nobody seemed to understand, Yoni tried out a few of his best attempts: “Deutsch? Français?” When that didn’t work, he tried, “Ivrit?”
And wouldn’t you know it—the man replied in Hebrew!
Sometimes the universe just likes to have a laugh.
Turns out, he was a tourist from Israel staying at a nearby resort. Bored, he’d joined the moped tour solo, leaving his family none the wiser.
Yoni helped him back to his feet, dusted him off, and we found out he was fine—just a bit shaken.
But with his group long gone, he asked if we’d call his family to come get him.
A simple task, but it felt so good to help him out.
Our days in Crete flew by, each filled with stunning beaches, historic sites, and a little unexpected adventure here and there.
But after ten days of heat, history, and enough seafood to last a lifetime, we knew this wasn’t the island.
As close as Crete came on paper to our vision, it just wasn’t quite us.
But, like every place we’d scouted before, it had given us something to take home—a memorable summer filled with laughter, a dash of drama, and another step closer to finding our dream island.
