Untying the lines in Valletta, Malta, we cruised to the Greek island of Crete to the small town of Agios Nikolaos, which translated, is Saint Nikolas. We could have stopped anywhere along the north coast of Crete, Chania or Iraklion, but how can you pass up a town called Santa Claus?

Almost daily, I would walk about a ½ mile through town to the well supplied market, past jewelry and souvenir shops (Agios Nikolaos being mainly a tourist town) and more importantly, past a small patisserie whose on-sight baking emitted an aroma you could smell from a few shops away. The very first time we inhaled that wafting wall of goodness, my daughter Lauren, age 17, and I stopped in our tracks and started sniffing the air like bloodhounds, staggering and bumping into people, until a nice older British couple passed us and said, smiling, “Up three stores on your right.”  We thanked them, forgot all about the market, and made a beeline. [click to continue…]

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