Here in Syros, a small island in the Cyclades in Greece, I was ambling homeward at night after a memorable meal of kalamari (squid) stuffed with feta cheese, when I rounded a corner and was stopped as dead in my tracks as if I’d walked into a wall, the wall being the overpowering scent of afrangipani tree growing more than 50m away in the courtyard of our guesthouse.