Snakeskin Dress in Sounion, Greece

NoMad Luxuries Snakeskin Dress in Sounion, Greece NoMad Luxuries Snakeskin Dress in Sounion, Greece NoMad Luxuries Snakeskin Dress in Sounion Greece NoMad Luxuries Snakeskin Dress in Sounion Greece NoMad Luxuries Snakeskin Dress in Sounion Greece NoMad Luxuries Snakeskin Dress in Sounion Greece NoMad Luxuries Snakeskin Dress in Sounion Greece NoMad Luxuries Snakeskin Dress in Sounion Greece NoMad Luxuries Snakeskin Dress in Sounion Greece NoMad Luxuries Snakeskin Dress in Sounion Greece NoMad Luxuries Snakeskin Dress in Sounion Greece NoMad Luxuries Snakeskin Dress in Sounion Greece NoMad Luxuries Snakeskin Dress in Sounion Greece NoMad Luxuries Snakeskin Dress in Sounion Greece NoMad Luxuries Snakeskin Dress in Sounion Greece

Despite the countless times I’ve been to Greece, this was my first time visiting Sounion. The sun was strong and the only shade I could find was under a lonely, olive tree. There wasn’t a soul in sight and it felt like this slice of history was all our own for the afternoon. View included. The refreshing sea called from me below, but the jagged and fallen rocks made me stay a while longer. I seamlessly blended in with the history, adding my own, albeit tiny, footprint. I had packed this Banana Republic, snakeskin dress because it was light and airy, comfortable and the pattern would blend in with just about any background in the Peloponnese. My metallic sandals are years old and are most likely on their last trip but I absolutely love them. Perfect for exploring ancient ruins.

On the rocky peninsula that juts into the sea, at the south-east tip of Attica, sits a sanctuary dedicated to Poseidon, god of the sea. It’s surprisingly close to the bustling city-center of Athens with only a 40 minute car ride; a trip I recommend making. As you approach Sounion, you spot a glimpse of one, maybe two of the columns of the temple of Poseidon, reaching into the blue sky and hovering over the sea. Homer described the peninsula as “sacred” and as the wind whistles through the olive trees, past the doric columns and the chirping cicadas finally fall quiet, I can understand why. I’ve always said that my favorite thing about Greece isn’t the azure sea that beckons to tourists or the fresh seafood served with hefty servings of steamed greens, but rather the wind. The. Wind. If you listen carefully, you can hear it- a song all its own. Perhaps the same one it’s been singing for centuries. How something invisible to the naked eye can have a sense of antiquity- it’s pure magic.