Much of my time on the Greek islands was spent on the back of a scooter, touring the hills and vales and being introduced to the wild majesty of landscape. While it was all eye-catching and awe-inspiring to the highest level, there was one thing in particular that I delighted in.
In the height of summer the Greek landscape is predominantly of a dusty olive green, intermingled with the dry brown of the wild thyme and mountainous outcrops. Little disrupted this classic depiction instead re-enforcing the visions I'd come to expect from text books and Ancient history. Complementing the natural beauty of the surroundings, the local villages stood out, a blinding white against the natural colours of the undulating landscape.
The further we journeyed, leaving behind the outskirts of the main township, the sparser the buildings became, the more infrequent the streaks of white upon the horizon. However as we distanced further towards the heart of the islands another image crept with increasing frequency into the frame: the far-off dab of white against a dull brown backdrop as the striking shape of a Greek church perched upon a mountain top came into focus.
There they were silhouetted against the horizon, balanced upon the top of a mountain, at the end of an impassable road, a solitary building drifting on their own island. They dotted the landscape providing a place to enjoy the beauty around you in solitude, reminding you of the power and magnificent of the world and its creator(s).
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