Day 1: My Grecian escapades at a Cat Marnell writing retreat. Part 2!

I hopped off the plane at LAX with a dream and my cardigan! … Lol, just kidding! Really, I stumbled off the plane in Thessaloniki, deep in a benzo haze, buzzing with a wild mix of excitement and fear… Am I gonna fit in?

Wearing a white, knee-length Ralph Lauren dress and powder-blue leather Carvela loafers, my eyes shielded with a pair of oversized Celine sunglasses—a 6am airport purchase that already felt essential. A large sky-blue floral tote hung at my side, while my denim-blue-denim Coach Tabby playfully slid off my shoulder with every step.

As I made my way to baggage claim, I whispered a silent prayer that my suitcase; carefully packed with over a dozen of my summer dresses, Dyson Airwrap, 35 pairs of Skims lace-trimmed thongs, and my signed copy of Sex, Art, and American Culture by Camille Paglia—hadn’t been lost in transit. —Omg, “CAMILLE.” Perhaps this book was foreshadowing the friendship that was soon to bloom with my very own Camille!

After what felt like a dazed eternity, I dragged my suitcase, just 0.4 shy of the 23 kg weight limit— off the luggage carousel with the kind of brute strength I imagine is required to move a dead body, all without breaking a single glitter-frosted, baby pink acrylic almond-shaped nail!

Walking through the post-border-control swinging doors, I was greeted by CAT herself and a gaggle of gorgeous girls, each as impractically overpacked as I was! I knew immediately: I was in the right place. Getting all our luggage into the 7-seater (which, despite a generous boot, wasn’t ready for us) turned into a game of sun-soaked, sweaty Tetris in the airport car park. Surrounded by American, and one Australian, accents, it hit me: this was real. Judy Garland’s voice whispered in my head: “We’re not in Kansas anymore.” My stomach fluttered.

The drive to the hotel felt like the opening credits of a movie: picture sweeping aerial shots of winding roads through fragrant, olive tree studded, sun-bleached Greek countryside. I was sat in the very back— basically in the boot, next to a stunning, dark-haired girl whose name rhymed with mine! Everyone was hot and slightly delirious, but as the AC kicked in and our collective body temp dropped, the car filled with girly chatter. By the end of the hour-long drive, we’d already bonded. My backseat neighbor and I? Besties.

The hotel itself was peak 1970s brutalism in all its concrete glory. Dated enough to evoke retro charm, but updated enough to avoid feeling drab or dirty. Featuring an old-school casino and surreal basement shopping arcade, where we’d stock up on cheap European cigarettes and midnight snacks. Outside, sprawling pools, connected by whimsical bridges lead you towards the seashore, where rows of sunbeds lined the coast. There were also tiki bars and late-night karaoke! Need I say more?

I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I was pleasantly surprised: the room was spotlessly clean (my top priority). The bed was XL and very firm, but in a good way. The room was fitted with a large built-in wardrobe, mini fridge, spacious vanity and mirror, as well as a full-length mirror, essential. There was also a sofa and an armchair, where I could haphazardly drape my clothes. An en-suite, with a bath!!! —Another essential. And lastly, a balcony with a beach view to the left and a glamorous car park view to the right.

Naturally, the first thing I did was unpack in the most chaotic-but-intentional way possible, everything carefully exploded across the vanity. It may have looked like a mess to the untrained eye, but I knew exactly where everything was.

I was thrilled to find my pack of nine quilted loo rolls had survived the journey unflattened. Yes, OCD hygiene obsessions come on holiday too! Along with two bottles of my fave antibac-cherry-scented hand soap and a jumbo pack of disinfectant wipes, which I lovingly caressed every surface in the room with. Trust me, you can never be too clean!

By the time I’d unpacked, bathed, and redone my hair and makeup, it was time to meet in the lobby for dinner at our host’s home. I grabbed the seat next to Cat in the back of the car. Not wanting to seem like a “fan,” I apologised before asking if we could snap a selfie together. She’s so angelic and genuine— her vanilla-scented aura radiates good vibes!

We arrived at this dreamy Grecian home perched above the sea. On the patio, a circle of plastic garden chairs had been set up, giving strong NA meeting vibes, in the best way! I felt at home instantly. Each of us received a cute notebook in various Mediterranean blues for the writing workshops. Adorable.

It was lovely to meet the rest of the girls in such a relaxed, low-stakes setting. I don’t actually drink wine, but I took a glass of red to hold like a social prop. I wasn’t sure yet who was drinking and who wasn’t, so I didn’t want to stick out too much.

I made my best effort to float around and talk to everyone, though naturally gravitated toward the girls who felt most like me. But honestly? Everyone was so authentic and stunning. The parts of myself I usually feel the need to mask or mute in new settings suddenly felt like common ground.

I’d been so nervous on the lead up to this trip, the grand relief that came upon meeting everyone was genuinely euphoric. I was so excited for what was to come!

Thank you Claire, for sending me this final gorge photo you snapped of the hotel during the day!