Romantic in Chania

An evening in Chania organises itself with barely any input from you. The Venetian harbour curves in a crescent, a mole runs along it to the Egyptian lighthouse, and everyone drifts that way — simply to reach the end and watch the water take on the lights. Behind it begins the car-free old town: lanes narrow enough that you can only walk side by side, tables set straight onto the stone, timber balconies overhead. Dinner tends to be either on the waterfront or in the alleys of Splantzia, where it is quieter and the prices are calmer.

By day, two coasts are in play. Westward, Balos lagoon can be reached by boat from Kissamos or by jeep along the peninsula's dirt track — the second option buys you an almost empty beach before the boats arrive, and the water there lies in bands of every shade from turquoise to deep blue. Elafonissi, further south, is known for its pink-tinted sand and a shallow lagoon you can wade across. Both are full-day trips, and both are better taken early, while the coaches are still on the road.

If you would rather avoid the crowds, there are quieter options. Samaria has its easy format — walking in from the sea, where the gorge is already wide, the pace is yours and you can turn back whenever you like. Private trips to Knossos and Heraklion mean the timetable belongs to you rather than to a group of forty. And the villages of Apokoronas suit a day without a plan: stone lanes, the view over Souda Bay from the hill, lunch wherever you happen to stop.