Chapter Santorini
Welcome to Fantasy Island! Around 1600 BCE, the Minoan volcano of Santorini erupted, spewing ash, killing the inhabitants, and destroying island dwellers as far as Crete because of huge tidal waves. The caldera of the four island archipelago is impressive. Blockbuster, murder-mystery, drone-footage worthy impressive (click link to see photo). At the narrow foot of the port of call, atop 300-foot cliffs, impossibly balanced white buildings separate land and sky. (Our puny phone cameras do not do it justice -- let alone the user).
It is quite a sight to see. Akin to the Grand Canyon, or Yosemite, or Ouray. Our ferry crosses the sunken blue abyss. It is the largest caldera in the world at eight miles by four miles with a lone cone desert island in the middle. It is as if we are being swallowed by a rising sea monster brimming with teeth. This volcano is seismically active, and the mainland of Greece registers minor earthquakes along this fault daily.
The island is fancifully called Paradise Island. It cannot hold a feather to our Hawaiian island paradise (as far as paradise goes). The island is the most cruise ship accessible of all the Cyclades because the depth of the volcanic bay -- the hot monster that lurks underneath the waters. During peak season, we were told, eight 5000-person ocean liners can set anchor. We saw four revolting (I mean revolving) ships at any given time.
So, here’s my take on cruises, as I know I have been a bit disparaging. (I have done one cruise in my life.) Running rough numbers, days at sea, and masses of people, unless you really work the discounts, I see little difference in travel prices. I, as a social distance enthusiast before it was a thing, find more value in our semi-privates and short-distance ferry trips. I have a hard enough time standing in airline gangways smelling other people. It’s not right for me.
In Santorini, there are two major ports. One in the center of the caldera. This is the original port with a historic donkey trail. The beasts of burden carried shipping goods up and down the 300-foot cliff side. Today, they have improved it for pedestrians, and donkey Lyfts. Adjacent are cable cars (like ski gondolas). Most cruisers ride the cable cars up (depending on how many people off-load from eight cruises, it’s a two-to-four hour wait). Some athletically inclined will slick their way up the switchbacks around burro piss, dung and flies (or down when you are about to miss the last boat transfer to your cruise ship for the evening). The cliff-side is so steep along this ancient way, they could not build a vehicle road. The other port, where the ferries dock, is car/bus accessible. Here we met our driver. (I suppose some cruisers take a boat taxi to this port. Travel Tip: I suggest this over the donkey trail. I imagine cruisers want the romance of the donkeys and cable cars, but it limits your time if you want to visit the churches and museums.)
That said, the real tourist attractions in Santorini are the cable cars and donkey rides to the city of Fira. Up top, it’s mostly more labyrinths of tourist traps, and the prices were higher than the other islands. This area of Fira is closed to all vehicle traffic. Our driver dropped us off at the taxi-stand, a porter from the hotel met us, and we walked uphill to our hotel. We stayed at the Asha Luxury Suites. A lovely cliff-side, sunset swept, spoiler of princesses. They greeted us with a cold glass of champagne. In our comfy bed, we slept (if not separated twins, I shared a king-sized bed with my daughter for most of the trip), we relaxed in our sun-kissed hot tub, enjoyed sunset drinks, and had the included breakfast brought to our balcony table at the hour of our choice.
We watched the donkeys below head out for their back-breaking day. We also cruised the shops before the cruise butt loads arrived. Staying on the island gave us time to explore the Thera Pre-History Museum, the Orthodox Metropolitan Cathedral, and the Catholic Cathedral of St. John the Baptist.
We stopped for an overlook lunch, then readied for our Flying Dresses photoshoot with SantoriniFlyingDress.com (Magkri Savo). Click link!
Oh my goodness, we had so much fun!
A little foreshadow, when we waited for our Mykonos to Paros ferry, we met a cheerful group of NJ/NY tourists traveling together. One woman informed us that a member of their group did the Flying Dress in Athens. There, she left her purse with her clothes in the provided changing room. Of course, a thief took her wallet and passport. So, for almost a week, we were worried about the possibility of pickpockets. Understand, the garbs are one-size-fits-most halter dresses with no built-in bra (and you can’t wear yours) with five-meters (fifteen feet) of train. You’re also barefoot. So, even if we kept our stuff with us, we had no way to stop a thief if he/she snatched our bag. We hatched a plan; we left our passports in the hotel room, packed one bag (so one could hold the backpack while the other strutted the catwalk) and only enough cash for our taxi and one credit card.
For the photoshoot, we opted to do our own hair and make-up, which was money well spent. The winds are such that a blow-out is blown out in seconds. I also love seeing my daughter for most of the vacation not wearing make-up. She is lovely both ways, but it’s the signal of true relaxation that stays in my heart.
We had to take a taxi to meet the photographer. This was not part of our tour package. We walked the labyrinth to a taxi station, flagged down a driver, and went to the opposite side of Fira. This location is where a high density of the famous blue domes of Santorini exists, draped with magenta bougainvillea, bright green leaves, white terraced buildings hanging off the 350 foot cliff sides; and the blue port below. I discovered there is not anything specifically significant about the blue domes. Simply, like the flag, it represents the sea and sky; the waves and clouds.
Our taxi driver was so nice. He appreciated we asked him his favorite part of Santorini. He explained it was the pre-history — there is the fabled story of Atlantis, but they don’t know the names of these people. They call them Akrotini, which means the people observed from the promontory. This is the modern given name by the scientists. He gave us his WhatsApp, and he’d come pick us up later. Travel tip reminder: Airalo.
I digress. Back to the Flying Dresses. Flying dresses are brightly colored, satin dresses with long trains and high slits. I chose emerald green and my daughter bougainvillea magenta. We hold a model pose and on cue the assistant shakes the dress, making the photo look like we are in some sort of wind blown perfume ad with the blue domes of Santorini, the ocean below, the white walls, and the high cliffs.
We met our photographer and his assistant. He had a pop-up changing tent and a secluded spot where they watched out for our safety as we changed. (Not that anyone was really around, maybe in summer it’s busier.) Then, wearing our Chucks and carrying our backpack of wallets and clothes, we walked to the first location. Another digression: The cats are everywhere. Some lesser used passages are litter boxes. We had to take our shoes off for the photos and sometimes had to walk short distances from location to location. This is the time to wear flip-flops. We also washed our feet throughly when we got back to our hotel.
There were three engaged/wedding shoots going on and one other Flying Dress, all with other photographers. (There was supposed to be another woman from a cruise ship join us. She did not make it because of the lines at the cable car. She lost her deposit.) He said it was so nice because during high season, there would be lines of sessions at each spot, waiting their turn for a quick snap, snap, then moving to the next location. Since the four groups had plenty of unpressured locations, he took extra time with us and actually let us into private areas not normally available during the high season. (I will update with photos when they are available.) Priceless.
We also stayed in full control of our backpack the whole time. Side note: the photograph’s assistant forgot his backpack at one location (filled with camera equipment). The look of worry on their faces confirmed that thieves are everywhere, and locals are not immune. He ran back to the last location and was relieved to find it. It’s stressful to live amongst thieves. Sustained hypervigilance sucks.
Our hotel was probably the most luxurious of all our stays, and reasonably priced (I think most tourists stay on the boats). Unfortunately, the restaurants were charging American prices — which is pricey for Greece, even compared to Athens near the Acropolis. They also regularly ask for tips. (Not expected across most of Europe.) So, in that regard, Santorini felt like a tourist trap, and probably my least favorite of all the islands visited. Restaurants were all good: Kyra, The V lounge, The Vine Cocktail and Wine, and Kaliya Reimagined. The last two preferred.
Then the morning came to leave our island escape. The hotel provided a porter to help us carry our luggage through the cruise ship tourists ambling from tchotchke shop to crapola vendor, oblivious of the surrounding people. Then our driver arrived, and I think he was fairly new. He asked us if it’s okay to pick up the luggage, and with your permissions, I will drive now. I told him he was very polite. He then talked our ears off about how he believes in giving forward, and it’s okay if he doesn’t get good luck in return because it makes him feel good to be nice.
His favorite memory was when he became homeless for a few days and headed to the beach to sleep when an older woman told him he could stay with her and do some house repairs to pay her back. He said that was about eighteen-months-ago, now he has a good job. I can’t quite explain his enthusiastic take on humanity. Suffice it to say, he was a good kid with a kind spirit. I offered him a tip, and he refused, adding I had paid enough already with the good conversation. Smile and the whole world smiles with you.
Yamas! (Cheers! in Greek). On to our last night in Athens.
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