The case for staying in one place.
Seven islands in ten days is a logistics exercise, not a holiday. What you gain by not moving.
The ambitious itinerary is a trap that looks like value. Seven places in ten days, each with a transfer, a check-in, a new set of light switches to learn and a new bed to get used to the night before you leave it. You see a great deal and remember almost none of it, because memory needs a second visit to hold onto anything.
Staying put is the opposite bet. You lose the boxes you didn't tick and gain the thing that actually lasts: the second morning at the same café, when they've started your coffee before you sit down. The walk you take without the map. The beach you return to because you know where the shade is by four.
There is a version of a place you only get on the third day, once the logistics have gone quiet and you've stopped performing the holiday. It is slower, and it is the reason to come at all. You cannot reach it from the back of a transfer van.
This is partly why we lean towards longer stays, and price them so they make sense. Not because it fills a calendar — because the good part of a trip here begins roughly when most itineraries have already moved you on.
Pick one house. Learn one neighbourhood. Come back to the same table until it's yours for the week. That is the whole argument, and ten days is exactly enough time to prove it.