All in Mediterranean
“What are the children of men, but as leaves that drop at the wind's breath?” It's the last message I read as I slam shut my dog-eared copy of The Odyssey – compulsory reading when you're whizzing across the blue-green waters of the Aegean Sea. The wind, the same warming, revitalizing Greek wind that Homer himself would have felt as he roamed the cliffs of Turkish Anatolia, streams through my hair now, and catches the sail. It billows and we're off. I, like the fabled leaves of Homer's image, am blowing in the salty gales that have taken so many across this beautiful corner of the Med.