I am not solo traveller. I never travel alone. Not because I am physically alone when traveling, but because traveling for me is never separate from the people and places I carry with me. I travel with my husband, my family, and very often with groups of friends. Yet I feel that I am never alone in the deeper sense of the word when traveling. Places remain present long after I leave them, and my relationship with them continues to change with each return.
My name is Kamila, I come from the Czech Republic, and I travel mainly slowly and repeatedly. No matter who I’m with, I’m always interested in the same thing. To understand the place where I am. Not just where I have arrived, but how it functions on a daily basis. What its rhythm is, what repeats itself and what remains the same even as the seasons change around me.
Why the Northern Sporades
Over the years of traveling, I have visited dozens of Greek islands. I got to know many of them in different roles. As a place for family trips. As a space shared with friends. As an island where you return once and feel that it was enough. Most of them were beautiful, some very easy to like at first glance. But only a few settled deeper and remained present even after I returned home. The Northern Sporades did.
Not immediately. Not ostentatiously. Rather inconspicuously and gradually. With each return, each day that was not exceptional, but still had peace and meaning. Whether I was here with my family, with my husband, or in a group of people who were exploring the islands at their own pace, they always worked the same way. Quietly. Naturally. Without the need to show off.
After a while, something strange began to happen. When local people meet me, they smile and ask me the same thing over and over again.
“Do you have a house here yet?”
I don’t.
And I never will.
Not because I don’t like these islands enough. Quite the contrary. But because my relationship with them is not about ownership. I return because of the people, because of a familiar feeling that needs no explanation, because of an atmosphere that cannot be bought or built. I return because returning makes sense in itself. Not because I need to stay. For me, the house is more of a metaphor. A symbol of belonging. And it is precisely because I own nothing there that I can keep moving. Returning without entitlement. Arriving each time anew, not as someone who claims a place, but as someone who respects it. That question actually tells me everything.
How I travel
I travel with my man, my children, and often with smaller groups of people. Yet my way of traveling doesn’t change much depending on who I’m with. If possible, I try to live like a local. Sit in the same café every morning. Shop where the locals shop. Eat where the menu isn’t translated first and where there’s no rush.At heart, I am a travel nerd. Not in the sense of chasing places, but in the sense of needing to understand the context. Before I go anywhere, I read a lot and in depth. Guidebooks, articles, specialist texts, old travelogues, local history. I compare, verify, ask questions. I enjoy the moment when geography, history, everyday life, and the landscape begin to fall into place. That curiosity doesn’t disappear after I arrive. On the contrary, it deepens. That’s one of the reasons I’m learning Greek. Not to impress, but to listen better. So that I don’t miss the little things that would otherwise be lost in translation. Because that’s where the essentials are often hidden.
Why I write guidebooks
Over time, I realized that what I do naturally for myself can also be useful to others. Not as a manual, but as a guide. As context. As an opportunity to slow down before the journey itself. That’s how my guides came about. I write calm, experience-based travel guides based on repeated visits, personal observation, and careful verification of information. I don’t recommend places I haven’t been to.
I don’t write lists just to fill space. I share information that I have verified and places I return to myself. Sometimes repeatedly, sometimes after a long time, but always with the knowledge that the place changes more slowly than expected.
What you will find on this website
Sporades.eu is where my writing lives.
Here you will find personal travel guides to the islands of Skiathos, Skopelos, and Alonissos, shaped by years of returning, observing, and gradually getting to know the Northern Sporades. These texts were not created from a single trip, but from a long-term relationship with the place.
Not as destinations.
But as living places with memory, rhythm, and everyday life.
Who this website is for
This website is for you if you are attracted to Greek islands beyond the most obvious ones. If you want to understand places, not just visit them. If you value writing based on real experience, not on one quick trip.
It is for curious travelers, slow explorers, couples, families, and groups of people who want to feel the rhythm of the Sporades, not just collect beaches and views. For those who like context, atmosphere, and space for their own discovery.
And who it might not be for
This website is probably not for you if you are looking for quick lists like “10 beaches in one day,” party itineraries, or copied travel tips without a personal connection to the place. I don’t follow trends or rankings. I am interested in the memory of places, returns, and relationships that are built slowly.
The Northern Sporades reward patience. And so does this website.
TL;DR
The personal story of a traveler who returns to the Northern Sporades not for the sights, but for the feeling. Kamila shares why she knows Skiathos, Skopelos, and Alonissos so well, how she travels slowly, like a local, and why she creates clear guides based on her own experiences, context, and repeated visits. This website is for those who want to truly understand the islands, not just visit them.