They are everywhere, at least on the two Islands I have been on so far. Under trees on the main sidewalks, sleeping in the shade of grasses, on the edges of shop windowsills, and slinking between the large and colourful flowerpots in the streets of these beautiful picture postcard islands.

Yes, the two islands I have been on so far are just like the brochures. Whitewashed houses, sparkling white, clear blue doors and window frames in the central area around the ports where most people gather ….buildings like pretty maids all in a row.

Today on Milos , the windmill island, the wind is blowing hard and ferries have been cancelled. So it’s an extra day, and a walk through the small town center clustered around the port.

I’m almost blown off my feet as I stand above the little white houses and quaint well presented art and clothing places . Here , around this hill, there are houses half constructed , the usual pile of abandoned machinery, building materials and the odd attractive home set on the hill.

Way across is a bell tower of what looks like a large church . On the horizon mountains appear to be rising out of a shimmering Aegean Sea.

I walk down and around, and up steps to what I think is a church. Closed. Along the side, next to the No Parking sign , two cars are sitting in the courtyard.

More closed doors around the walls of the building, a bell tower, a few plastic sheeting covered tables and a man in a robe spraying the spotlessly clean tables and benches. A small room in a corner, an old lady with a bucket. Neither of them look at me . A couple of bright pots squashed into a corner. And a small spotted cat crouched in front of the rubbish bag .

That’s it. Down the steps I go , back to the port and a coffee. A few pottery places along the path; power still off and people sitting in harbour-side cafes looking a bit mournful. Next to my accomodation the small coffee shop is doing great business as locals order coffees and chat away .

“Greek coffee, please”.