I worked 26 of the 30 days in April, in the pediatric ICU no less. 3 children died. My attendings were incredible, as always. My coresidents and I leaned on each other heavily. I was exhausted physically, mentally and emotionally. Sooooo, I hopped on a plane and got the heck out of there.

Okay, the trip was planned well in advance, but it had felt like it would never come. I finished my month in the PICU on a Saturday, and by Monday I was on my way back to Jersey in preparation of our transatlantic flight. J and I bought plane tickets back in the fall, and in May we finally took off to….drumroll, please…GREECE! We landed in Athens just after noon, after many hours of delays (because that’s always my travel luck) and realized it was too late to check in for our 1pm connection to Santorini. We arrived breathless at the ticket window, begging the poor airline agent to take pity on us stupid Americans. He clacked away on his keyboard for what felt like forever, let out a long sigh, and said “How good are you at sprinting?” We looked at each other, wide-eyed, and TOOK OFF, yelling thank yous from halfway down the terminal. We made the flight by the skin of our teeth, and by the time we touched down 45 mins later in sunny Santorini, the debacle was all but forgotten.  You guys, Greece is GORGEOUS. The sky is so blue, the water so clear, and the architecture beautiful. And the food, OMG the food, is so fresh and delicious, one meal was better than the next. We stayed in the cutest little Airbnb’s a la Mamma Mia, and met the nicest hosts.

One of the days in Santorini, we booked spots on a catamaran cruise around the island. We took off our flip flops and boarded the boat around 9am, the sun not quite out but trying to peek through. They handed us drinks and towels, and we assumed a perch on the little deck as the captain steered us along the coast. Our guide periodically made his way to the front and gave a little spiel about what we were seeing on land, cracking the group of us up every time in his Greek-accented English.

Next up was the island of Naxos, a little more residential and in my opinion a hidden gem. We arrived on the ferry and made our way to a family farm for a farm-to-table cooking class that I had set up. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but was immediately charmed by the owner who was so excited to show us the wide variety of plants, vegetables and animals that surrounded us. We picked fresh herbs, collected fresh eggs, and tasted berries straight off the tree. The huge olive grove was seriously impressive, though we were told that eating olives straight off the tree would shock our taste buds with how bitter they are. Together with a group of other travelers from around the globe, we prepped, cooked and served an absolutely stunning meal and shared it at a long table outside on the veranda. And yes, even I participated in making a few of the (simpler) dishes.

Finally, we made our way to Mykonos, which had been described to me as the Ibiza of Greece. I have never been to Ibiza, but if it features nightclub after nightclub with music pumping and tequila flowing, I am in. I would not have been able to hang for more than the 2 days we had there, because apparently I am too old and don’t have the stamina I had in college, but it was fun.

Many photos and many pounds of feta later, it was time to head home. Would I go back to Greece? Absolutely. Buuuut, there are so many places on my list, and now my sense of wanderlust has been reignited. Who knows where the pair of us will head next? Not I, that’s for sure. For now we will settle back into normal life stateside, until the next adventure arises. They say to travel while you’re young and able, and I’m so grateful that in the midst of a crazy residency schedule we were able to take the time to transport ourselves into another world, even for a little while. Just you wait, friends, we may be jetsetters before you know it.