There is a moment in Mykonos, just before seven, when the white walls turn almost pink. The shutters are still closed, the beach bars are folded away, and the only sounds are a broom on the flagstones and a radio somewhere above us.
We had promised the children an adventure. Getting them out of bed at six was the adventure. By the second staircase, though, they had forgotten about breakfast and were counting cats.
Why we go early
By ten, the ferries arrive and the lanes fill up. At dawn you get the town almost to yourself, and the colors look the way they do on postcards, only quieter. It is also the coolest hour of the day, which matters when you are carrying a four-year-old.
The route we took
We started at the harbor, climbed towards the windmills, then let ourselves get lost on the way down. Nobody needs a map here: every lane eventually leads back to the sea, usually via a bakery.
The trick with children is not to plan the walk, but to plan the stops.
Where the bread comes from
Halfway down, a man pulled sesame rings from a wood oven in a room no bigger than a wardrobe. He handed one to each child, still too hot to hold, and refused our coins. We ate them on a doorstep, tearing them in four.
If you go
- Sleep in the old town, so you can step out at dawn without a car.
- Bring a light jacket: island mornings are windy, even in summer.
- Leave the camera in the bag for the first half hour. Just look.
