I’m not sure this place even has a name, and I know you’d never find it online. Tucked away, just off the village’s main square, I can’t even recall, for the moment, how we got here from the ship. Disembarking from our gulet, a big, wooden sailboat that looks like it could carry pirates, walking the gangway just before golden hour, our small group hiked up a series of small, steep pathways to a white, blue-domed church crowning a big hill. An Aegean panorama spread out at its feet, the aquamarine turning, by shades, to burnt orange, as the sun drops toward the sea. With the light now ebbing fast, we make our way back down, toward the winding streets in town, past scenes of small-town life—priests in black robes, big crosses hanging from their necks, kids riding by, getting their last bit of time on their bikes before dinnertime. …