*This piece is a combination of my own observations and historical accounts from Plat locals.
The chirping of nested birds replaced my morning phone alarm. I walk out the unlocked front door through an archway of overgrown vines, grabbing a few figs and grapes along the way to take the dog for a walk. I pass several tourists and say “Dobar Dan” to the locals rushing to their seasonal jobs.
The spotless beaches and pristine nature makes Plat a quiet paradise. Yet the untouched, demolished buildings are a reminder that this place, and its people, suffered a tumultuous past.