A Travelling Sprout
A Sprout Swims Her Way Around the Greek Islands
By Shelley Banks
As our ship, Explora One, slipped away from port, we waved goodbye to Athens. We had loved our time in the city, but now the islands were calling—Mykonos, Patmos, Syros, Paros and Rhodes—along with stops in Thessaloniki, Istanbul and Bodrum.
Our first port was Mykonos, where cobblestone laneways lined with whitewashed buildings twisted beneath our feet and the air was thick with the scent of bougainvillea. We spent the day wandering through bustling markets, climbing up to the iconic windmills, swimming in the Aegean, and feasting on Greek favourites, including a refreshing watermelon, feta and mint salad. With the ship docking at 9 am and not departing until 1 am, there was plenty of time to explore and even experience a taste of the island’s famous nightlife.
Next came Patmos. Quieter and far less crowded, it felt like the complete opposite of Mykonos. We strolled through peaceful alleyways, soaking in the charm of the town before heading to the beach for a swim in crystal-clear water. As the island has no docking port, we arrived by tender, adding to the sense of adventure. Back on board the ship, we were lucky enough to have a jacuzzi on the top deck to ourselves as we watched Patmos slowly fade into the distance.
Our journey then shifted away from the islands. In Thessaloniki, we wandered along the waterfront, explored ancient ruins scattered throughout the city, and even took a ride on a pirate ship. At just seven euros for thirty minutes, it was one of the best-value experiences we found in Greece.
The following day was spent at sea as we made our way to Istanbul. We embraced the slower pace, enjoying a relaxing day onboard. Along the way, we sailed through the Dardanelles and passed beneath the impressive Çanakkale Bridge, the world’s longest suspension bridge, stretching 4.6 kilometres.
Soon, Istanbul’s skyline came into view—its minarets rising above a city alive with energy. It had been ten years since our last visit, but the familiarity returned instantly. We explored the Grand Bazaar, navigated the crowds of the Spice Market, and paused in quiet awe inside the Hagia Sophia and the Blue Mosque. A delicious clay pot meal rounded out a memorable day.
Back in Greece, Syros surprised us with its neoclassical elegance. The pastel-coloured houses of Ermoupoli overlooked a sparkling harbour dotted with fishing boats. Instead of exploring by land, we chose to see the island from the water, hopping aboard a yacht to discover its coastline.
From there, we returned briefly to Turkey with a stop in Bodrum, where the Aegean Sea laps against the walls of a medieval castle, creating a striking blend of history and coastal beauty.
Rhodes was a standout. With its rich mix of ancient and medieval history, it completely captivated us. We wandered through the maze-like streets of the Old Town, walked along centuries-old city walls, and admired the turquoise waves below the Palace of the Grand Master. A visit to Lindos, with its hilltop temple and the heart-shaped St Paul’s Bay, made the day even more special. It was, without question, the highlight of our cruise.
Our final Greek island was Paros. Although we had planned a day at a beach club, strong winds and choppy seas changed our plans. Instead, we spent a relaxed day wandering through town, taking in the familiar beauty of whitewashed buildings and blue-domed roofs.
With only 700 guests on board and a staff-to-passenger ratio of 1:2.5, life on Explora One felt spacious and effortlessly comfortable. At no point did it feel crowded—just the perfect balance of luxury and ease as we journeyed through some of the Mediterranean’s most unforgettable destinations.
Musings
Slip, Slop, Slap
By Shelley Banks
One of the advantages of doing a cruise is that everywhere you go, your accommodation goes with you. Unpack once and relax. Everything onboard is also close by, including, on our cruise, five pools and five whirlpools, all conveniently located in prime positions for watching the world glide by.
Having a love of swimming, we made the most of the aquatic options. Not a single day went by without us splashing in a pool somewhere on the ship—sometimes more than once, just to be thorough. We weren’t alone, either; it was like a soggy assembly. But there was a clear divide between us and the rest of the swimmers, mostly Europeans. We slathered up with SPF50 as if we were icing a cake, while they gleefully slicked themselves up with oil, hoping to fry to a perfect golden brown.
In the middle of the day, we searched for the pool with the most shade and with sunlounges under cover. The Europeans sat in the middle of the pool, where the midday sun was beaming straight down; no hats and in swimwear that barely covered anything.
After so many years of the slip, slop, slap message being drilled into us, we’re sun safety experts. I know the strength of the sun is different there, but it can still do damage.
I don’t know what the Europeans thought of us, searching for shade while they baked in the hot sun, but we didn’t care. Neither of us has any desire to make extra appointments with the dermatologist to get “a dodgy spot” removed. Life’s complicated enough without that drama. Or that invoice.
Short Stories
The Crossing at Dawn
By Shelley Banks
The storm cleared just before dawn, leaving the coastline raw and dreary. The sky was streaked with violet and grey, the air sharp with salt and wet pine trees. Along the street, lights flicked on one by one in weatherboard houses, as if the town was slowly waking from a bad dream.
Ellie Lawson stood at her kitchen window, watching the last of the clouds drift out to sea. It had been a long night.
In this small coastal town, Ellie was known as the reliable one—the woman who showed up, who kept things steady when life wobbled. She swam every morning, rain or shine. She checked in on her neighbours. She answered the phone, no matter the hour.
But even Ellie knew there were some calls you could never be ready for.
‘Ellie.’ Her brother Jack sounded breathless, panicked. ‘It’s Sarah. She’s in labour. It’s too early, and the bridge has been washed away. I don’t know what to do.’
Ellie was already moving, grabbing her keys from the bench. ‘I’m coming. Just stay with her.’
She had one foot out the door when her phone rang again. This time, she froze. The number was one she knew too well.
‘Ellie,’ the nurse from the aged care home said, her voice gentle but urgent. ‘Your grandmother’s taken a turn. Her heart is failing and she’s asking for you.’
Ellie closed her eyes. ‘How long?’
There was a pause. ‘I don’t think you should wait.’
For a moment, the world narrowed to the space around her—the quiet kitchen, the ticking clock, the sound of water still dripping from the eaves outside.
Two roads stretched out in her mind. East, towards her boat, then the hospital. Toward a baby arriving too soon.
West, toward the care home and her grandmother. Toward goodbye.
Her grip tightened around her keys. All her life, Ellie had been the one people leaned on. The dependable one. The one who fixed things. But this wasn’t something she could fix.
She thought of Jack, her little brother, who still looked to her when things fell apart. And then she thought of her grandmother, the woman who had held everything together for so long after she and Jack found themselves alone. Her chest ached.
‘I can’t be in two places,’ she whispered, though no one was there to hear it.
In the silence that followed, a memory surfaced—her grandmother’s voice, steady and certain.
You choose what you think is right at that moment and don’t look back. Ellie let out a shaky breath, then she made her choice.
The drive to the river was slow, the roads slick and littered with debris. By the time she reached the crossing, the water was still rushing, but not enough to stop her getting to the other side.
Her boat rocked in the current as she and Jack loaded Sarah onboard, her face pale, her breath coming fast.
‘I’ve got you,’ Ellie said, gripping her hand.
She stayed focused on getting them safely across. She spoke calmly, steadily, as if nothing else in the world existed.
But beneath it all, there was one thought she couldn’t shake. Their grandmother was alone.
They only just made it to the hospital in time.
As Ellie stood by the window, her newborn niece cradled in her arms, the world outside looked impossibly peaceful, as if the storm had never happened.
Jack stood beside her, his voice thick with emotion. ‘You got her here. I don’t know what we would’ve done without you.’
Ellie nodded, unable to trust her voice, the weight of her choice settled around her. Love and loss tangled together.
‘I’m sorry I wasn’t there,’ she whispered later that day when she was alone. ‘But I hope you knew, I hope you understood.’
‘Thank you for everything, grandma.’
Outside, the sea stretched wide and endless, the horizon pale with late afternoon light.
Ellie took a steady breath, holding it for a moment before letting it go. Because life, she realised, didn’t wait for the perfect choice. It simply asked you to make one and to carry it with you.
And somehow, to keep going.
Something Light
You Australians can Swim
By Shelley Banks
Last year, while gallivanting around the Greek Islands, we lucked out with a day aboard a yacht off Syros. Picture this: sails up, sun blazing, and the Aegean Sea sparkling like someone had dumped a bucket of glitter on it. The highlight, apart from pretending we were millionaires, was the captain’s swim stops. At each one, we’d leap off the deck into the bluest water you’ve ever seen, like a group of overexcited dolphins, minus the grace.
The Aegean is so salty you float whether you want to or not, perfect for anyone with questionable swimming skills. Even with that in play, there was one passenger who didn’t feel comfortable getting in the water. Given she was a solo traveller in her mid-seventies and not a strong swimmer, we could understand her reasoning.
But at each stop, we, and our fellow passengers offered to assist getting her in and out of the water and staying with her while floating about so she could say she’d been in the Aegean.
For the first two stops, she said no, but then, after seeing how much fun we were all having, she relented at the third. However, despite the other eager volunteers, she declared she’d only get in the sea with my husband and me. Why? Because, as she put it, ‘You Australians can swim.’ Apparently, our national export is not Vegemite, but aquatic prowess.
Our reputation as water-loving Aussies—swimming, surfing, paddleboarding, kayaking, snorkelling etc— had preceded us and she wasn’t trusting anyone else to assist her.
From then on, she swam at every stop with the two of us, and we were delighted to help her tick “Aegean dip” off her bucket list. The other passengers, though, weren’t as happy as us. All of them were good swimmers, but because they weren’t Australian, their offers were refused.
Turns out, in the Aegean, “Australian” is code for “qualified lifeguard.”
Books
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