When I was a child I was obsessed with the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. While other girls put on pretty dresses and practiced singing into their hairbrush I wore my favourite TMNT t-shirt and practiced wielding nunchucks in front of the mirror. I had a huge crush on Raphael (the red one) because, let’s face it, who didn’t? Who knew that my love of a ripped cartoon turtle would transport me to the beaches of Greece and lead to falling in love with real, live Loggerhead sea turtles. I recently reached yet another crossroads in my life – my London job was coming to a staggering halt and I was faced with the prospect of rejoining the conveyer belt of modern day job hunters or going back home to Australia. I could hear the voice of reason, a heavily Russian accented woman wearing an apron and waving a wooden spoon, telling me to get over my post-modern crisis and get a job. Then there was the voice of my housemate Paul wistfully recalling the time he volunteered for Archelon – The Sea Turtle Protection Society of Greece. Sorry mum, I’m going to take a break from “sorting my life out” and no I won’t “settle down”. I’m going to save turtles in Greece instead. I boxed up my stuff, moved out of my London share house and flew to Zakynthos Island where I pitched a tent, took a freezing cold shower and tried to sleep through the incessant sounds of cicadas, barking dogs and crowing roosters.