A thousand times the mysteries unfold like galaxies in my head.

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On my first trip to Italy, I wanted to greet Venice as a holy place. I somehow saw myself as a profane being, ready to plunge into the secrets of a city I could not understand, whose name only reminded me of an overwhelming culture and Renaissance busts. The floating city of Venice was, in my imagination, the same with the ancient city of Atlantis and I expected to see Venice too sink under the seas the very moment I would get to its lands. At the same time, my Venice was full of Romeos and Juliets cuddling all throughout the city, in the gondolas and on every narrow bridge. I was quite sure their tears of joy actually added up to the water that would eventually sink the city. That is why, when I got the chance to approach Venice, I was grateful to the fact that I managed to see it before it totally disappeared.

From time to time, you feel things deserve a second chance, you leave a place and swear never to return again and then it springs back in your mind and you develop a deep nostalgia towards it. That's when you return, hoping that everything has changed, that you won't be left with the same sour impression again. I myself swore not to return to the Romanian seaside after I visited Vama Veche two years ago. I could talk about my previous experience for hours, but this is not the aim of the current article. I am here to talk about what I found at the seaside this year, when late planning left me outside a possible trip to Greece. Tourism industry is a real jungle, don't you think?