My Big Fat Greek Holiday


Photo by Moy

A few months ago I had a whole Mamma Mia-esque holiday. It was literally like my family and I were extras in the Mamma Mia movie, sans Meryl Streep. It was the most incredible holiday that I shed Greece-induced tears on a weekly basis because I miss it so much. So, here’s a post I penned a while ago but never got around to finishing because uni just got in the damn way.

*Circa August, 2015, middle of a gloomy Melbourne winter*

I have just returned from a fam vacay. Think Kardashians and their family vacay but less ugly tears from Kimmy K about losing her earring in the ocean and also less private yachts. Actually let’s face it, the only similarity between our family holiday and the Kardashians’ family holiday is the destination – GREECE.

Below is my open love letter – ‘to Greece, with love’.

Dear Greece,

Thanks for having me for the last 4 weeks. When people ask me how my holiday was, I respond with the typical white girl adjectives: amazing, incredible, beautiful, and sound like a dumb parrot on repeat. But honestly, I mean it. There are not enough adjectives in the world to describe your beautiful (there I go again) country. I actually can’t summarise the entire trip in one go because that’ll sound like verbal diarrhea on steroids, so I think I’ll break it down and use subheadings because a) I’m anal retentive and b) I’m a #lawstudent and law lecturers REALLY LIKE SUBHEADINGS.


Obviously I’m starting with the most important aspect of all. For the rest of my life I will dream of your 2 euro souvlakis. The 2 kg I packed on when I was over there was so worth it. Thank you for putting hot, mouthgastic chips in your wraps. Thank you for being the perfect size so that when I sadly demolished it, I was full but wasn’t that full of regret either. Thank you for your homemade tzaziki sauce that when eaten in combination with the fresh onion made me stink out everyone within a 5 km radius of me. Thank you for the freshly shaved gyros meat that was so perfectly flavoursome that it felt like a party in my mouth. And thank you for always being wrapped up like the Olympic torch so that every time I held one I felt like a champion, a winner. And lets be honest, I really was. I had no less than 9 souvlakis and every single damn one was so beautiful I feel emotional writing about it.


Probably the best collage you’ll ever see. Ps, middle row, left – absolute animal

In addition to the souvas, I need a moment just to reminisce the desserts I had. There is something so enthralling about looking at a pile of baklava, chocolate walnut cake, vanilla croissant, frozen chocolate ice cream cakes, mounds of gelati, chocolate oreo cake, small balls of donuts (loukamades) watermelon pie (don’t ask me how they do it, it just works) and the list goes on. Maybe it’s the rebellious side in me that just enjoys devouring something so good yet at the same time could give you severe diabetes and early onset obesity. Seriously, Greece, your desserts are insane. Back home, I’m usually pretty cautious about sweets – I love them but try to avoid them because, you know #thinspo and all that. But in your country I threw all caution to the wind and gave into every single craving. One night, I had 2 scoops of Snickers and dark chocolate sorbet respectively and chowed down 2 cakes afterwards. Another morning, I had dessert for breakfast and literally had no regrets. Not even a calorie. #iquitsugar



I am so sad to leave your food behind. I feel like I need copious amounts of couples therapy just like Scott and Kourtney in order to recover leaving number 1 bae behind, but look how they turned out – I don’t think this’ll end well for me. #ripscottandkourtney

Let’s got to the beach beach 


Contrary to popular belief created by Lana Del Ray, there is no ‘summertime sadness’ in Greece. I think I need a moment of silence to just remember the beaches. Think blue, crystal clear water, high cliffs that you can jump off and constant sun. With not  a single cloud in the sky and the sun setting at around 9pm, it was perfect beach weather for the entirety of the 26 days we were there. Probably why I came home looking just one shade lighter than Serena Williams. As one Chinese tourist in Santorini whispered loudly about me ‘she’s not Chinese, she’s too dark’. He was right. My entire family looked like Cambodian peasants. The tan is so real as we literally came back 50 Shades Darker.

Compare the pair. Same body part. One has been exposed to 3 weeks of European sun. The other, 3 weeks of a computer screen.

Let me give you a run down of what a typical day was like for me in Greece:

9:06am: Wake up. Check all forms of social media and chuckle quietly to yourself about your friends sucking it up in shitty, cold, monsoonal winter weather.

9:14am: Change out of pyjamas and put on bikini. Look in mirror and regret the ice cream you ate last night. Apply sunscreen coat #1 as minimally as possible. Go outside and tan.

9:30am: Realise that you are reasonably peckish and then go have breakfast. Have a little laugh about the irony of having Greek yoghurt in Greece even though you laughed at that exact same joke every morning since you’d been in Greece.

Said Greek yoghurt.

12:00pm: Wake up and realise that you have fallen asleep in the sun. You now wake up feeling drier than prune and almost as hot as Marlon Brando. Your skin vaguely resembles a leather backpack that has been neglected at the beach. Walk back inside your hotel room only for it to be so dark that your eyes have a cosmic panic attack as they attempt to adjust to the lack of light.

1:00pm: Have a family debate over whether you’re going to the beach or just going to tan by the pool in the hotel. #struggleisreal. The beach won everyday.

1:30pm: Arrive at beach. Marvel at its beauty and also the topless European men.

1:48pm: Have a little heart attack when you think you see an old man’s peepee but then convince yourself not to be preposterous as it can’t be, but then on closer inspection realise that literally everyone is naked on the beach. Including the lady who sold you a bracelet the day before is now talking to me with her breasts in my face and I’m struggling really hard to avert my eyes. The Europeans really do tan stark naked on the beach and have no issue with it.

2:07pm: Man up and decide to go cliff jumping because it looks really fun so you climb the cliff and jab your foot with a piece of rock (which, incase you were still wondering, is still in there and I technically bought a piece of Greece back with me. Sorry Customs, guess you didn’t catch that!!!). You reach the top of the rock and then have a typical moment where you fear for your life because you’re at the top of a high rock (maximum height of 1.5 metres), and think that if you jump off, the wind will smack against you, pushing you back into the rock whereby you will crack your head open, have concussion and bleed profusely to death.

2:14pm: You’ve finally decided to jump off. No concussion. You obviously MUST jump again for the thrill of it.


5:15pm: Finish the day with Ben and Jerry’s ice cream to reward yourself for a day of hard work and catch bus back to town.

Eat, beach, tan, repeat.

Greece, I loved you so much that I’m literally already planning my next trip back. You were an absolutely spectacular country that I loved from start to finish. You were my favourite family holiday. If I could, I would write 365 letters to you every day. Greece is definitely the word.


Yours truly,

with all my love,


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