We had a list of sights for the old town. We saw almost none of them. Instead, we followed our daughter, who followed a cat, who knew every alley better than any guidebook.
We let the children choose the turns. Left at the man selling peaches, right after the blue door, straight on until the smell of bread. We were never more than a few steps behind, but for them it felt like exploring a town of their own.
At the end of the afternoon, they could not name a single monument. They could describe, in detail, the ice cream that melted down their wrists and the old fisherman who taught them to count to ten in Greek.
That is the trip they will remember. It is the one I want to remember too.
