Agios Nikolaos

If you're wandering through the charmingly chaotic heart of Agios Nikolaos, make time-preferably around twilight, when mystery thickens and local old-timers settle into storytelling-for Lake Voulismeni, a body of water as mysteriously deep as your bartender's pour. Legend has it this lake is bottomless; some whisper its depths hide lost Nazi weaponry, others swear it's connected directly to Santorini's volcanic belly, while the truly imaginative insist goddess Athena herself bathed here (which, let's face it, would hugely upgrade your average Greek bathhouse experience). Bring a crisp €20-enough to grab a lakeside drink and bribe a local elder to share the weirdest version of the myth. Arriving early evening requires minimal planning-just enough foresight to charge your phone for twilight selfies and pack an extra layer; surprisingly, bottomless pits harbor slight chills. Whether or not you believe the tall tales, standing at Lake Voulismeni's edge, cocktail in hand, speculating on what lurks in its depths, is precisely the sort of travel anecdote that keeps friends listening-even when the ouzo runs dry.

If boat rides to haunted islands are your thing-or even if they're decidedly not-then a jaunt to Spinalonga Island from the sleepy fishing village of Plaka is irresistibly weird. Once a mighty Venetian fortress, later an isolated leper colony, and now a sun-drenched ruin ripe for Instagram, Spinalonga is one of those rare gems where historical fascination collides with gentle morbidity. Hitch a ride early-around 9 a.m.-before the selfie-stick-wielding hordes descend, and you've practically got the eerie crumbling alleys and ramparts to yourself. Pack sunscreen, sturdy shoes (flip-flops won't thwart centuries-old cobblestones), and a hat to save yourself from turning lobster-red beneath the unrelenting Mediterranean sun. For about €20-€25 per head, you'll secure your passage, entrance fee, and the pleasing sense of superiority that accompanies all good historical sightseeing. Book a day or two ahead, savor the irony of carrying snacks onto an island once shunned by society, and revel in knowing you're wandering through history tinged with abandonment, resilience, and Venetian bravado. Trust me: even if history's not usually your jam, it's worth the story-or at the very least, the chance to casually drop "leper colony" into your next dinner-party anecdote.

In Elounda, past the chic tavernas and sun-tanned glitterati, awaits the submerged ruins of the ancient city of Olous-Crete's own mini-Atlantis, minus the Plato-approved drama. Once a prosperous maritime hub with its own minted coins (talk about ancient swagger), Olous slowly slipped beneath the waves due to earthquakes and some geological bad luck, leaving behind eerie foundations, crumbling walls, and ghostly outlines of once-bustling streets. Today, adventurous souls armed with snorkels or kayaks can peer down at history below the turquoise surface, ideally early in the morning when the sea is as clear as a hangover-free conscience. Plan at least a day ahead, rent gear from Elounda's friendly outfitters, and budget around €40-€60 for equipment and a guide if history's mysteries intrigue you as much as aquatic selfies. Pro tip: bring waterproof sunscreen, a curious imagination, and some dignity you're willing to part with should your kayak decide you've overstayed your welcome with Poseidon. Sure, you'll be floating above what amounts to millennia-old real estate misfortune-but trust me, paddling over submerged streets, tavern floors, and marketplaces is an experience dripping with intrigue (and seawater), worth it for the sheer bragging rights alone.

Island hopping off the coast of Crete to Chrissi Island isn't just another leisurely day out on a boat-it's a salty, sunburned pilgrimage to paradise wrapped in turquoise water, inviting sand, and the satisfying knowledge you're temporarily dominating an otherwise uninhabited slice of Mediterranean bliss. From the scrappy harbor town of Ierapetra, literally Europe's southernmost point, you'll board an alarmingly buoyant ferry bright and early (think 9 a.m. sharp, before the hungover tourists roll out of bed). Chrissi, which translates to "Golden," isn't exaggerating-its sugary-white sands gleam like a Hollywood dental ad against water so absurdly vivid it should have its own Instagram filter. Historically, pirates fancied this place as a hideaway (who wouldn't?), and now it's your turn to plunder a spot under a twisted juniper for shade. Pack sunscreen, water, snacks, and cash-€25-30 for the ferry, plus extra for an obligatory Mythos beer and a beach chair rental. Plan at least a day ahead, especially in peak summer months, because spontaneity here means joining the ranks of disappointed landlubbers waving forlornly from shore. But let's face it, even if you get sand everywhere, battle an unruly inflatable flamingo, or become mildly seasick, this is precisely the kind of travel bragging rights you'll savor-because how many people can actually say they've spent an afternoon picnicking on a gloriously deserted pirate island?