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Xoxo Pottery Designs, Sea point by appointment only, Cape Town (2026)

15/06/2026

Dear Diary Day 15: Vathy 🌼

It felt so good to properly unpack this morning. I’m going to be here for a while, so I fully unpacked and made myself right at home in my home away from home.
We woke up and both exclaimed rather loudly:
“Can you believe we’re here?!”

Laundry was our first port of call.
The last time we did any was in Syros. Thankfully Psili Amos was beach vibes all day, every day, so that helped, but I was running dangerously low on ‘essential clothing’.

The best part? Everything dries here within about two hours of hanging it up.
We also tried to be as aesthetic as possible when hanging the washing outside the house because, no doubt, like last year, I’ll spot my pyjamas or beach sarong in somebody’s holiday photos online.
I simply refuse to shame this house or Blue Street with badly thought-out laundry placement.
I have to admit, though, I have a good chuckle whenever I spot my washing in the background of someone else’s perfectly curated Instagram worthy blue street photo.
So all the kaftans & sarongs are hanging proudly at the front. The ‘essentials’ are hidden neatly at the back. Nobody needs to see my brookies flapping dramatically in the Aegean breeze.
How South African is the word brookies?!🤣
As a family, we have a very intense relationship with laundry. Some might call it obsessive.
I simply call it the Kanias Trella (madness).
In fact, just to spill the teee, Tash travelled internationally carrying a brand-new detergent pod so I could smell it and use it while we were here. I think she just wanted to show off, to be honest. Perhaps that’s what made her suitcase so heavy?
Honestly, that’s only scratching the surface of the madness running through our veins.
I could tell you some stories…
But I won’t.
Or maybe I will.
Watch this space. 🤣💙
We were on the early bird bus to Vathy at 08:15 and, oh boy, we held our breath in anticipation for this ride. You simply cannot get on a bus here & not be entertained or hear swear words strung together in a sentence you never thought possible.

The bus drivers have a hard time in certain areas, roads are extremely narrow, people park where they shouldn’t and the manoeuvring is often hair raising to say the least.
Lo and behold, it was the same bus driver, flanked by the same ticket guy.
Two different jobs here: one guy drives, one guy collects. Now, if you followed my trip in 2024, you’ll remember the infamous incident where a frappe was spilled all over my freshly cleaned ice-white sneakers while exiting the bus en route to the bank. Oh my God. The bank. 🫢I’m just not going in this year. My mental health and anxiety cannot handle it. That can be a 2027 problem.
I’ll pop in to say hi to the lovely people at the bank, but that’s as far as I’m going.

Back to the bus ride.
For two years, my brain has held a crystal-clear photographic image of the ticket guy because of that frappe incident. Honestly, I’m like a dog with a bone. I cannot let things go.
I was also very conscious to keep my feet tucked faaaaar behind me in case this man was still as clumsy as he was two years ago.
He eyeballed me.
I eyeballed him.
His head tilted to the side as if to say, “Don’t I know you?” I smiled and said in Greek:
“I’ve returned. Are you happy to see me?”

He laughed.
“Aren’t you the South African girl?”
I nodded.
“You like coming to the island, I see.”
“It’s paradise,” I said. “And my home away from home.” And just like that, we were instantly buddies.

Vathy is the main town of the island. It’s always lovely to wander the streets, browse the shops and visit the main platia with the infamous white lion standing proudly in the square.

Tash and I both remembered it being much bigger. Then again, we were much smaller when we used to run around that platia as kids.
We also caught up with some family, which was really special.

Before heading back to pythagorio naturally, Tash bought a few things to take home: Oregano. Masticha. Mountain tea. Halva.
Nougat. Honey. Baklava. Kataifi. Nuts.
A goat. A watermelon.
You know…The essentials. 😂
(Kidding about the last two. )
And judging by our track record so far…
I wouldn’t rule out a goat making a surprise appearance.
Until tomorrow, Diary. 💙

14/06/2026

Dear Diary Day 14: Back in Blue Street 💙

Feels like we’ve come home.
There’s something extremely special, magnetic, soulful and divine about this house.

We both walked up along Blue Street pushing our f$&king heavy ass suitcases, looking back at each other saying “ooooooof WTF man!”
The confusion remains incredibly high.
So does the laughter.
The truly alarming part is that we haven’t even shopped yet.

Approaching the house felt every bit as special as it did last year. I immediately noticed a few changes to the façade and we both just stood there looking up, smiling and saying:
“Ahhh… we’re home.” 🫶🏽

The moment we walked inside, we both exhaled and smiled. The energy of this magnificent space instantly washed over us.
Blue Street, the Kanias sisters are back. 💙
We wasted absolutely no time settling in.
The lovely couple whose home this is had left us a bottle of Samos bubbles in the fridge, which felt like a very thoughtful but dangerous level of hospitality. We might never leave!

So naturally, after unpacking, showering & spending an appropriate amount of time admiring the house,
we headed out for supplies.

Cheese — obviously. Nothing beats the local Graviera from Samos.
Olives — because what kind of Greek girls would we be without them?
Wine — because those bubbles are about to disappear.
Ouzo — at this point it’s basically hydration. 🤣
Salty snacks — because the cheese and olives deserve proper support.

Now, can we talk about something deeply concerning?
In 13 days of being in Greece…
We have not eaten a single gyro. Not one.
Frankly, it feels disrespectful.
Please prepare yourselves emotionally because this situation is about to be corrected.
Look, don’t feel too sorry for us. We’ve eaten practically everything else.
But your first gyro of the summer is a rite of passage.
A declaration.
A commitment.
An official “I’m in Greece now” ceremony.

For the uninitiated, a gyro is lightly toasted pita stuffed with your choice of pork or chicken (we’re Team Pork), tomato, red onion and tzatziki so good it could change your personality.
Apparently chips belong inside them too.
I disagree. Violently.
Once you find your gyro spot, that’s it. You’re loyal for life.
Luckily, Pythagorio has four excellent contenders.
A gyro for lunch, a swim, then an afternoon nap.
At least that’s the theory.
Because I’m not going to lie… I am tired.

We’ve been on the move since Athens. Then Syros. Then our one-night wonder in Patmos. Then maximum relaxation in Psili Amos. And now we’re here.

This year’s Kanias Sister Summer with my Chatty Kathy, Kori, has been absolutely wonderful.
But sweet Lord… There is very little sleeping happening.

Every morning my voice sounds like I’ve smoked two packets of ci******es because we simply do. not. stop. talking.
I reckon we’re averaging about 18 hours of conversation a day.

No naps are being had either.

If one of us even attempts a little cat nap, the other immediately receives some kind of invisible alert and launches a brand-new conversation requiring full participation, emotional investment and advanced problem-solving skills.
Being together is like plugging into a power source.

After a delicious gyro and our usual stroll through Pythagorio, it was so lovely seeing familiar faces from last year. The warm greetings.
The meaningful hugs.
The “We’re so happy you’re back!”
My heart was full.
We eventually headed home for an Ouzaki on the balcony.
We’ve started calling it an Ouzaki because the Greeks love a diminutive. They don’t ask if you’re paying by “karta” — they ask if you’ll be using your “kartoula”.
So naturally we’ve adopted the practice.
When in Greece. 🤣🇬🇷Our first night back in Blue Street ended exactly as it should: full hearts, an Ouzaki in hand, and absolutely no idea what Greek adventure tomorrow has in store. But it’ll need to start with doing laundry ✨💙

13/06/2026

Dear Diary Day 13: Psili Amos Magic 🌼

I have the fondest memories of this beach.
Growing up, we visited Samos almost every year.
My dad was born here, and although my mom was born in South Africa, her family is also from Samos.
So this island has always felt less like a destination and more like something running through my veins.

When I get home, I’ll find the photo of four-year-old me standing on this very beach in front of this very taverna.
For now, I’m sharing another tiny-tot throwback with my cousin—the same cousin I got to see in Athens on Day 1 of this trip.
Life has a funny way of bringing old memories full circle.

As I mentioned before, I’d never actually stayed overnight in Psili Amos—only ever visited for the day. Well,
after these five days, that officially changes.
A new tradition has been born.

What a glorious five days it’s been: pure beach-holiday bliss, endless swims, sun-soaked afternoons,
and Sister Summer Time at full volume.

Gosh, I love my Kori.

No one makes me laugh harder. No one understands my nonsense quite like she does. What a gift it is to share this adventure together.

The wonderful people who run the beach taverna have become like family over these past few days. The taverna has been here for more than 60 years, and you can feel that history everywhere. Old family photographs line the walls—tiny children in black-and-white pictures who have since
grown into the women now running the place and
carrying on the family legacy through the great Greek love language: feeding people until they’re dangerously close to needing a nap.

And the food? Heavenly.
I’m genuinely concerned that normal food at home is about to disappoint me on a deeply personal level.

If you haven’t tried skordalia, you should. If you have tried skordalia, you should try this one. It’ll put hair on your chest faster than a Greek yiayia can say, “Eat, you’re too skinny.”

We’ve eaten like royalty all week. We loved the beetroot so much they even bought extra for our last day. That’s hospitality. Or they’ve simply realised we’ll keep ordering and asking for it until further notice.
That’s when you know you’ve crossed over from customer to honorary cousin.

Five days is long enough to get to know a place, but more importantly, it’s long enough to get to know its people. And the people of Psili Amos are pure gold—warm, wholesome, generous souls who made us feel completely at home. The kind of people who remember your coffee order, ask about your family, and somehow make you feel like you’ve lived there for years.
Leaving tomorrow won’t be easy.
I’ve become emotionally attached to the beach, the taverna, the beetroot, and at least three different sunbeds.
But the Greek Odyssey continues.
Tomorrow: we trade beach towels for Blue Street in Pythagorio. Another familiar corner of Samos, another chapter waiting to be written. 🇬🇷💙✨

12/06/2026

Dear Diary Day 12: Beach It ✌🏽☀️

The only plans we have today involve sun, sea, sand, the turquoise shades of the Aegean, calamari, ouzo,
and the kind of relaxation that should honestly be available
on prescription. 🫶🏽

It’s really starting to feel like a proper Greek island holiday now.

I’ve officially turned 27 different shades of gold and,
judging by the forecast, this situation is only going to intensify.
For the record, this colour has been achieved by marinating myself daily in SPF 50. Once you’re over 40, it’s a whole new ball game. If I even whisper the words “tanning oil,”
there’ll be a full-scale riot. Tash, Queen of Sunblock,
has made sure I’m lacquered from head to toe.
My dermatologist would be weeping tears of pride.

We’re absolutely loving that we’re staying right on the beach. And when I say right on the beach, I mean I actually counted the steps from our apartment door to my sunbed: 75.
Seventy-five glorious little steps. Frankly, any more
would feel excessive.

My foot is doing much better too. The pain seems to have shifted, which feels promising. I’m still not thrilled about
wiping out in Athens, and the debate remains ongoing.
I maintain that I went down gracefully.
Tash keeps insisting I resembled a spatchcock chicken
being launched through the air.
The disrespect and laughter around this topic continues.

I had another Thai massage on the beach yesterday and
I genuinely think it’s helped. The hobble has now evolved into what I’d describe as a graceful limp. I suspect adrenaline
has been running the show ever since Athens, and now that
I’m firmly in “relaxi to the maxi” mode, the healing department has finally clocked in for work.

Being on this beach has been the nervous system reset I didn’t know I needed.

As it turns out, the great car rental fiasco was the biggest blessing in disguise. At the time I was hopping mad (quite literally), but if we’d had a car we’d probably have spent our days racing around the island trying to see everything.

Instead, our daily itinerary looks like this:
Wake up.
Walk 75 steps.
Secure prime beach real estate.
Order frappés.

And speaking of frappés… not all frappés are created equal.

This has become a topic of serious research. We like ours on the milky side of life, whipped within an inch of its existence, and after two sips we add more ice because apparently we’re now certified frappé connoisseurs.

After the frappé comes several conversations that have been running on a play-pause-rewind loop for the last eight days, interrupted only by random bursts of laughter loud enough to startle nearby swimmers. To be fair we can just look at each other and laugh fur no reason whatsoever.
Then it’s time for lunch.
Lunch involves everything Greek cuisine does best: seafood, salads, more seafood, olive oil flowing like holy water, and garlic so powerful it feels like your ancestors are leaning over your shoulder saying, “Bravo my child.”

An ice-cold beer is usually involved because Greek summer & beer go together like Greeks & unsolicited life advice.

Then comes an afternoon swim, a little more sun, a shower, and a mild attempt at looking presentable. Truthfully, I’ve spent most of this holiday makeup-free & I’ve loved every minute of it.
Dinner is more of the same goodness. Tash has introduced a Greek coffee to her daily diet and that then brings out even more convo with the locals who are all very invested in the “good news” it’ll bring before even reading the cup.

And somehow, just like that, it’s 11:30pm.
We’re sitting with our feet in the ocean, staring at the stars, chatting away as if we haven’t already spent the entire day doing exactly that.

Tomorrow? Eh, we’ll see…
And if there’s one thing Greece has taught us, it’s that vague plans make the best stories.

11/06/2026

Dear Diary Day 11: Oysters in Psili Amos 🦪✨

Oh my goodness, what a treat today was!
The lovely couple whose house I’ll be renting for the second year in a row on Blue Street came by boat to Psili Amos
to meet me for lunch.

We met briefly last year, maybe 15 minutes max, and
have stayed in touch ever since.

When I started planning this year’s Greek odyssey,
I asked if I could stay in their home again.
After last year’s soul-filling stay, I needed more.
There’s something so special about this house,
and I cannot wait to get back to it.

Not just yet though — Psili Amos is home for now.

They docked their boat and met us on the beach.
Janita floated towards us in a bright red dress and matching hat, oysters in hand, an ice-cold bottle of cava,
and the sort of energy that says, “We’re only popping in for a quick hello,” before accidentally spending half the day together.

Those oysters… yummmmo.

Shucked right there on the beach by Andreas because apparently in Greece, even a casual catch-up comes with
fresh seafood, sparkling wine and a sea view.
The bar for “normal” has become dangerously high.

Stories were exchanged, laughter flowed, and before long
we’d worked up an appetite. Lunch was calling.
We gathered at the taverna overlooking water so turquoise
it looked like someone had turned the saturation up too far,
and enjoyed the most delicious meal together.

Honestly, at this point I’m not entirely sure if I’m on holiday or accidentally starring in Mamma Mia 3: The Lexi Edition.

Last year, a lovely lady from Wales started following Xoxopottery during my 2025 Greece trip and Dear Diary
series. She messaged me about the house and about Samos and believe it or not, she ended up renting it for the month before my arrival.

My travel plans needed adjusting so Tash could join me,
and by the time everything was locked in, there were five days that needed filling.

That’s how we ended up staying in Psili Amos before heading to Blue Street.
Normally we’d come here for the day, but it’s the first time
I’ve actually stayed in this little slice of paradise.

A beach so beautiful it genuinely looks AI-generated. If it wasn’t for the sunburn & the salt on my skin, I’d suspect it wasn’t real.

The timing of today really felt miraculous.
The lovely couple from Wales were there too, along with a dear friend of theirs, and somehow we all found ourselves meeting for the very first time & sharing lunch together on a tiny beach in Samos.

Complete strangers a year ago, now gathered around the same table swapping stories, sharing food and laughing like old friends.
I love how randomly beautiful the world can be.

I loved hearing about their experience in the house and knowing that what I’d described was exactly what they found. I loved knowing they’ve come to Samos because they fell in love with my Dear Diaries.

That filled my heart more than I can explain.
Of course, I had to bring another Xoxopottery piece to gift this beautiful house and the wonderful people who own it.

I love that I feel like I have joint custody of this tiny piece of heaven on earth.
I love that I’m now referred to as “family”.
And I love that I have a home away from home in a place I hold so dear.

We laughed, we ate, we drank, we shared stories, and eventually Janita and Andreas set sail on their own adventure for the next few months.

The lovely couple from Wales still have a few days left in the house before Tash and I move in, so it’s all-round happiness and merriment.

Tomorrow is another full day in paradise.

There’ll be more frappé, more sea, more sun, more golden skin, more yummy food, more ouzaki, and more soul-filling time with my Kori.

And if Greece has taught me anything, it’s that tomorrow’s plans are merely a gentle suggestion.

Or as the Greeks say: we’ll see. 🇬🇷✨🩷

10/06/2026

Dear Diary Day 10: Psili Amos, Samos 👭☀️

In the space of 10 days we’ve become professional nomads. Ferries, check-ins, check-outs, beach clothes, travel clothes, repeat. We’ve packed & unpacked these bloody suitcases so many times that opening one now feels like a lucky dip.
The most confusing part? We haven’t even shopped. Every few days Tash and I just look at each other, start laughing and ask, “How did this happen?”

One thing about us when we’re together: the laughter gets completely out of control. It’s not normal laughter. It’s full-body, wheezing, hissing-like-two-feral-cackling geese laughter that only fuels more of the same at a higher octave.
My face is genuinely sore & I’ve realised it’s because I’ve spent 10 straight days smiling.
What a gift.
What a time to have this time together.
Now, however, it’s time to CHILLAX TO THE MAX.
And where better than Psili Amos Beach in Samos?
I have such fond memories of this beach from childhood holidays with my cousins, so this year I decided to level up and book us a place right on the beach. The plan was simple: beach by day, explore by night… assuming we had a car!

Apparently automatic cars are rarer than unicorns, and urgency appears to be in equally short supply. Which feels surprising considering it’s the start of summer. I’d imagined everyone would be bright-eyed, bushy-tailed & ready to grab tourist season by the horns & give it a bit of va-va-voom.

After much back-and-forth, Tash & I decided perhaps we simply weren’t meant to have a car. Maybe this was the universe’s way of saying:
“Sit down. Stop planning. Drink all the ouzo. Relax properly.”

So that’s exactly what we’ve done.
Nowhere to go. Nowhere to be.
Just living the sister summer beach days we’ve both been dreaming about since last year.
This is slow Greek island living at its absolute peak.

The taverna on the beach has been here forever, & the owners, waiters & beach attendants all remembered us from last year. Being greeted by familiar faces felt unexpectedly heartwarming.
It also made me realise something.
I never understood the people who return to the same holiday destination year after year.

Well.
I understand now.
I am those people.
The good Greek elixir has taken hold.
And while I’m very glad I spent my 14-year Greece hiatus exploring the rest of the world… it seems the rest of the world might be in trouble because this level of goodness is hard to beat.

My hair is lighter.
My skin has fully activated its Greek genetics & transformed itself into a mocha-caramel shade.
I am home.
Tomorrow, the lovely owners of the Blue Street House are coming to have lunch with us before they set sail for their next adventure.
For now though?
Beach. Swim. Eat. Ouzo. Repeat. 🇬🇷💙✨

09/06/2026

Dear Diary Day 9: Samos, You Beaut 🦋 I see you!

Goodbye Patmos. The visit was brief, the impact was big.
Back on the ferry we go, where a new level was added to the Greek ferry game: Drop, Roll & Sprint.
Apparently, “boarding” now means hurling yourself & your suitcase towards the ferry in a chaotic 100-metre dash while being screamed at by ferry staff for not moving fast enough.

I was moving as fast as a woman dragging half her wardrobe across a concrete dock can reasonably move.
“ELA! PAME!!!!!”
A casual 1h40 minutes later, Pythagorio appeared on the horizon looking absolutely stunning. Did I take photos?
No. By that point, I had rolled my ridiculously heavy suitcase over my already sore foot so many times that I was questioning both my life choices & the contents of said suitcase.
Seriously. WHY is it so heavy?

Between the hotel, the taverna, the port, very little sleep & the anxiety-inducing sprint onto a high-speed catamaran, photography was no longer on the agenda.
We docked. We disembarked. I rolled over my foot one final time for good measure.

And there we stood on the pier.
Now, Control Freak Lex had already arranged a rental car to be waiting for us.
Important detail: it had to be an automatic.
I haven’t driven a manual since 14 April 2000.
I know this because it’s the exact day I got my driver’s licence.
I’d rented from this company before. Great experience. Recommended them countless times.
Had the owner’s number. Had wished her Merry Christmas
and Happy Easter. We’d communicated via email, WhatsApp, Viber, carrier pigeon… basically every platform known to mankind.

Because if you’ve ever tried organising a Greek summer holiday during Greek winter, you’ll know the response time can best be described as, “Eventually, we’ve got time.”

After 4 emails, 7 WhatsApps, 5 Viber messages &
2 voice notes, I finally received the reassuring confirmation
I was chasing: “Ok, I wait for you.”
Excellent. The sort of detailed correspondence that really puts a holiday planner’s mind at ease.
And somehow, against all evidence & instincts, I chose to interpret that as a binding contract.

For extra insurance, I even sent reinforcements—the lovely owner of The Blue Street House—to do a local vibe check.

So now imagine my surprise when we got to the port, suitcases in hand, sneakers that used to be white, but there are only so many wheel rolls they’ll endure.
Only to hear, “Sori, the car got double booked.”

Nothing was stealing my peace.
Not today.
At that point, acceptance had entered the chat.

So I called a taxi, climbed in, and headed for Psili Amos—the white sand, blue lagoon beach where we’d be spending the next few days.
And honestly?
After the ferry games and the rental car plot twist, I was officially off duty.
By then, my standards were simple: blue water, ouzo in hand & no sprinting.

08/06/2026

Dear Diary Day 8: Patmos 🩵

I can now officially confirm — God does, in fact, live on top of the mountain in Patmos. Incase you looking for him…

I felt it on my first visit in 2022. I came back in 2024 to make sure I wasn’t completely delulu. Then last year, after recovering from the shock of Tash randomly appearing in Samos,
I insisted we spend a night here so she could experience whatever magic exists on this island too.

This year, thanks to the Greek ferry schedule being released roughly three minutes before summer started, I was “forced” to stop in Patmos again.
Using the words forced and Patmos in the same sentence feels mildly offensive.

We arrived at 3am after an overnight ferry from Syros and somehow although we all spoke for 4 solid hours we still made it to breakfast with Pam & Alan. Over the years they’ve gone from friends to family, and seeing them again felt like slipping into a favourite, familiar, comfortable story.
They both truly make me smile.

A trip up to Chora and the Monastery was completely non-negotiable. For the bargain price of €2.50 and a 9-minute bus ride, we were transported straight back into heaven.

And then something delightfully Greek happened.
I stepped onto the bus.
The driver looked at me.
I looked at him.
He smiled & said, “Welcome. You’ve returned.”
Without missing a beat, I replied, “I told you I would.”
Honestly, I seem to make these declarations all over Europe. The worrying thing is they keep becoming reality.
Which is why I’ve also been loudly declaring, “C’mon Europe jackpot!”

For anyone wondering, yes, I still have the lottery ticket I bought in Athens sitting in my purse. No, I haven’t checked it yet. Manifestation requires commitment and best believe I am fully committed.

We spent hours wandering my favourite alleyways, poking our heads into tiny galleries, absorbing the almost tangible energy that seems to hum through the monastery walls and once again questioning how a place can be THIS beautiful.

Back in Skala, we still had time for a necessary pool dip, more chatting, more laughing and more stories with Pam & Alan before lunch at my beloved Toksiotis.

The owner spotted me immediately.
“The South African girl is back!”
Then his eyes drifted down to our suitcases.
His smile disappeared.
He knew.
I knew.
Everyone knew.
This was not a long enough visit.

What I love most is watching my special places become Kori’s special places. My people become her people. The travel stories we’ve collected specifically over the last 10–15 years are getting funnier every time we tell them.

For two people who live on opposite sides of the world, we’ve squeezed every last drop out of our time together when are are together.
The marrow, the magic and plenty of hysterical laughter. It’s priceless.

And thankfully, we’re not done yet.
Next stop: Samos 🩵

Xoxo Pottery Designs

15/06/2026

14/06/2026

13/06/2026

12/06/2026

11/06/2026

10/06/2026

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