Santorini

Thoughts and sketches from a beautiful island, 15-29 July 2014

Fira, Santorini, 22 July 2014

 

Approaching the town, perched precariously on the cliff face, the low cloud drifts like smoke through the rounded blue dome of the cathedral. Crowded cobble-stoned streets move to the steady rhythm of the sun-weary tourists and well-worked locals. Sleepy, shuffling, flip-flop wearing ants part to pave the way for buses driven with practised precision through impossible spaces, dispersing fumes and heat to the public furnace. Street-side tables and kebab shop stools are occupied by melting visitors observing the scene from behind the dark screens of Raybans.

Striding up the unpaved roads avoiding the swarm of buzzing quads and screeching mopeds, we make our  way to the summit and sunset. We find our spot, an eagle’s nest of white tables and chairs, an observation post for the changing light. A jumble of white horizontals and verticals teeter impossibly to the rugged volcanic cliffs., their forms diffused by the wisps of vapour from the Aegean Sea. Darker shadows out at sea emerge and rise defiantly giving scale and history to the timeless scene. The sun slides slowly towards the hazy horizon illuminating the streaks of cloud at its destination. Ever-changing colours in a never-changing cycle. Shadows fall over the white fortresses as the sun drops lower. All eyes to the reddening horizon - a primal urge to witness the passing of time, of life lived another day. A beautiful scene painted in a palette of yellows, reds and blues. The spectrum of a lifelong memory. An evening to remember shared with the one I love.

 

Aegean Sea Caldera Cruise

 

Dakoutros Brothers “Cheapest excursions on Santorini”. €25 each for a tour of the caldera and a sunset cruise. Bargain. The cruise departed from the Old Port at 15.30 so we allowed an hour after lunch to get there. Fortified by lager and pasta we set off from the top of the cliffs for the start of our descent to the port way down below. The zig-zag steps start from the precarious restaurants built on rocky foundations that cling on by their toenails, and they traverse downhill, steeply, cut into the same cliff face.

Picture postcard images of Santorini cannot begin to convey the overload on the senses and physical demands of this trek. Photography can not capture the overwhelming stench of donkey piss, although Photoshop can easily remove the lumps of donkey dung that threaten to trip up weary travellers. Cobblestone steps are polished by tourists’ flip-flops and donkeys’ hooves to treacherous marble.

The descent into hell is intensified by the searing heat and having to run the gauntlet through tunnels of idling, sweat-stained, stinking mules. Tourists pass us in both directions riding the lumbering beasts, lurching from side to side, compacting vertebrae as they go.

We arrive at the port’s base camp soaked in sweat with legs screaming for mercy. The boat named ‘Jason’ arrives and takes us across the caldera to the volcano, for another trek. Uphill this time, amongst volcanic dust and rock. The unrelenting sun continues to beat down on us, leaving us wishing for a volcanic eruption to cool things down a bit.

The next stop is the hot springs at Thirassia. We swim to the brown waters of the spring, paddle around in the warm water, then swim back to the boat again, leaving us all knackered. We then sail on to another small island for a quick beer and a shared moussaka, before sailing to the cliffs of Ioa for a glorious sunset. As we return to the Old Port donkey owners call out offering rides back up the zig-zag steps of hell. We take the cable car. A great, but tiring, family day out.

 

A Ghostly Morning Stroll

 

The family was fast asleep in bed and the hotel grounds were quiet and peaceful when I left for an early morning walk. I headed South East towards the coast as the final beats of the Santorini club scene boomed down the hill from the town in the distance. Two mopeds with four riders singing at the top of their voices buzzed past on their way to bed. Walking along the main road was risky while early morning revellers returned home wrecked. I turned left down a labyrinth of back street alleys that snaked in the darkness left, right, up and down. Whitewashed walls gleamed at me in the pre-dawn light, glassless windows like missing teeth. Dogs barked as I crept past their territory. Cockeralls alerted the early risers to the imminence of another dawn.

The lanes widened to a dusty road with scrubland to the left and a high wall to the right. Out of nowhere appeared an old man inching along on four old wooden legs, two straight and two buckled with age. I glanced at him as I passed and noticed his flat cap and mustard-coloured cardigan. Walking on another twenty paces I glanced back again over my shoulder. The old mad had gone as eerily as he had appeared. There was no gate that he could have entered into. A ghost? My father? A warning?

I continued nervously towards the breaking light over the sea, spine and scalp tingling ominously. Suddenly, from behind a high wire fence, three alsatians barked and snarled at me, running along the fence as I walked. I moved as quickly as I could to get away ignoring the blisters and stones in my sandals.

The road turned into a one-lane gravel track. At its end was a sign for an animal sanctuary. My footsteps tripped the alarm and a cacophony of dog barks woke the dead. Two dogs emerged from the trees running towards me. I grunted aggressively at them and they stopped in their tracks, looked at me for what seemed an hour then turned away. I cut across some scrubland, past some bee hives, and picked up another road that eventually took me to Monolithos Beach.

A lone car sat quietly facing the sea waiting for the imminent sunrise. Wind-carved sand cliffs looked to the horizon for the sun to paint their forms in hues of red and orange. Sculptures of nature impressively and impossibly structured like something from a Dali painting or a Gaudi building.

And then, calmed by the beautiful scene before me, I watched the sun rise from over the sea.

Not wanting the repeat the adventure in reverse, I caught the bus back to the hotel where the family slept on unawares.