A short story about Tonia

I was a teenager in mid-90s Poland, lying in bed late at night, watching Tropical Heat on grainy TV. The main character, Nick, with his shirt perpetually half open, drove his jeep along sun-drenched beaches, solving mysteries that always seemed to lead back to the ocean.

Outside my window, Polish winter pressed against the glass. Dark. Silent. Frozen solid.
I stared into that darkness and felt something stir, a quiet knowing that somewhere out there, a life like that existed. Not the TV version. The real one. I didn’t know where. I didn’t know its name yet. Only that it involved light, sea air, and the kind of freedom you feel in your bones.

But I knew I would recognize it when I found it.

Me, my dad & the wild pig

Adventures with my brother Tobiasz

Zbyszek & Wanda - my beautiful parents at their wedding

Your journey starts now

Tonia's Cottage isn't just accommodation. It's your insider's guide to authentic Crete. It's the quiet morning light on olive trees, the taste of raki shared with neighbors, and the feeling of being somewhere that lets you slow down enough to remember who you are.

You won't arrive as a stranger. You'll arrive expected, welcomed, connected.

The cottage is ready. The village is waiting. And I'm here to make sure your time in Crete goes deeper than photos and souvenirs.

Maybe you're like I was, watching life through a window, sensing there's something more out there. Maybe you don't even know what you're looking for yet. That's okay. Sometimes the best journeys begin when you just follow that quiet pull, that feeling that says there.

Our Forest Home in Spała Village

Arriving to Crete

My lovely Cretan husband Aris

My Mom & beloved Dad in Crete

Hunting for treasures

Forest roots

I grew up in Spała, a small village in central Poland, surrounded by endless forests. My childhood was spent exploring the woods with my older brother, climbing trees, searching for berries, and spotting wild animals.

My mom, who worked for the forest administration, taught me the value of organization, responsibility, and attention to detail. My dad, Zbyszek, taught me something else entirely.

He built elaborate machines in our basement that did nothing but make rhythmic noises, insisting he was "capturing messages from the universe." He made up Scrabble words that didn't exist, defending them with such conviction we'd have to check the dictionary just to prove him wrong (he'd laugh every time). When we'd wake him from afternoon naps, he'd open one eye and say with complete seriousness: "I'm not sleeping, my eyes are just resting."

After a stroke, when we visited him in the hospital worried about his eye that looked different, he leaned close and whispered: "With this eye, I can see things that aren't really there."

Even then, scared, in a hospital bed, he chose wonder over worry.

He taught me that magic isn't something you find—it's how you look at the world. Everything I do as a host comes from them both: my mom's attention to detail and my dad's belief that magic is everywhere if you know how to look.

The Cretan calling

That curiosity about different ways of living led me to study tourism and business management. In my final year, I visited Crete for the first time.

The moment I stepped off the plane at Heraklion Airport, something shifted. It wasn't just the sea air or the warmth—it was a feeling I couldn't name. Like I'd been holding my breath and finally remembered how to exhale.

Years later, I stepped off that plane and everything clicked. Heat on my skin, not oppressive but welcoming. Salt and wild thyme in my lungs. Colors so vivid they almost hurt. The sea glittering like it knew exactly what I had been searching for.

That teenage girl watching TV in the dark had been right all along.

Crete wasn't the answer to a question I had been asking. It was the question finally learning how to ask itself properly.

Building a life

For nearly twenty years, I've embraced Crete fully, learning the language, discovering hidden corners, and finding my rhythm with the island's seasons.

On winter mornings, you'll find me solving crossword puzzles over what I consider the best coffee in the world: a rich Freddo espresso (I'll show you how to order it like a local😊). Summer afternoons call for sailing the Cretan coast or swimming in coves where the water is so clear you can count pebbles on the bottom. I wander beaches collecting shells, not for decoration, but because each one tells a story of storms survived and seasons turned. I explore islands, off-track villages, and quiet places where time slows down, always searching for a bit of magic hidden in the everyday.

Crete offers everything I need: majestic mountains, crystal-clear seas, hidden lakes, and endless moments of wonder. The people, especially the women, inspire me with their quiet strength and the deep respect they command in local culture.

I'm passionate about neuroscience, languages, and technology: fields that illuminate how we connect with places and people. Unexpected acts of kindness move me deeply. I cherish deep conversations, noticing what's unspoken, and imagining the unseen. Life's challenges are invitations for deeper connection, and I try to live with gratitude, curiosity, and attention to the magic hidden in everyday moment.

Learning what matters

One night a few years ago, my car broke down on the way to the village. Exhausted and panicked, I managed to reach the village square before smoke started rising from the engine.

Within seconds, five elderly villagers were running toward me.

They didn't ask questions. They just moved. One calmed me down in Greek I barely understood back then but somehow felt completely. Others pushed the car to safety. Someone pressed chocolate into my hand. And before I could even process what was happening, they insisted on driving me home, all the way back to the coast, 25 kilometers away, well past midnight.

Their generosity, warmth, and care stayed with me long after that night.

That night changed how I saw Cretan hospitality. They didn’t help because it was expected or convenient—they helped because I was here, showing up, learning their language, joining their festivals, becoming part of the village story instead of just passing through. Their care taught me what it means to truly belong, even for a moment.

This is what I want for you. Not to visit Crete, but to connect with it.

With Mom in Winter time

Discovering hidden gems

Endless days playing in the woods

During that trip, I met Aris, a Cretan with roots deep in this island's soil. We tried living in England for two years, but Crete kept pulling us back. Not because it was exotic or beautiful (though it is), but because something deeper happened here.

In England, I felt like I was constantly explaining myself: my choices, my pace, my priorities. In Crete, I just... fit. The rhythm made sense. The values aligned. Even the silences felt comfortable.

We returned in 2009, and I've never looked back.

The Crete I share

After nearly twenty years here, I don't just live in Crete. I feel its rhythm. I understand its people, its language, and the quiet ways this island reveals itself.

The Crete I want to share isn't just stunning landscapes and hidden beaches (though it has plenty of them!). It's a place where the human heart shows itself. Where small, unexpected acts of kindness, a helping hand, a neighbor sharing oranges from their tree, someone noticing your confusion and quietly offering directions, remind you that connection is still alive in everyday life.

This understanding, earned through two decades of curiosity, laughter, and falling deeper in love with this place, is what I want to offer to you.

My dad left us in 2021, just sixty-four years young, but those years were packed with enough laughter and curiosity to fill a lifetime. When you stay at the cottage, you're experiencing both my parents' gifts: my mom's care and responsibility, my dad's wonder and imagination.

Let's create something beautiful together—days filled with hidden beaches, village warmth, unexpected discoveries, and the kind of moments that stay with you long after you leave.

The island is waiting to show you what you didn't even know you needed to find.

With warmth and joy 🌸
Tonia