There is something insanely wasteful about flying from Cairo to Athens,
only to have to fly halfway back to the African continent in order to land on one of Greeces many Cyclades islands in the middle of the Aegean.
I was Santorini and Rhodes bounds - the latter, in order to housesit and care for 22 cats during the Christmas week. I leaned into the aircraft window as the croissant-shaped Santorini appeared a few thousand meters below, thinking about my last visit some 35 years prior and how there looked to be a lot more white rooftops than all those decades ago.
A grumpy cat eyeballs me from the cliffside.
Now it was winter, and the ‘off” season.
I was looking forward to exploring again and witnessing the amazing sunsets that Santorini was famous for. I had to spend two hours in Athens airport before flying into Santorini - the island where the airport runway took up nearly 25 percent of the islands total length. I was pondering the absurdity of wasted time in airports - the captured audience that wanders around in a state of transition in anticipation of finally reaching their destination.
Santorini is an island approx 300 km south of Athens, located in the Aegean Sea.
It's part of the Cyclades island group, which is connected to the Mediterranean Sea. The island is the remnant of an ancient volcano, leaving a croissant shaped caldera with steep cliffs on the inner edge upon which the town of Thera (Fira) is perched.
The caldera is the perfect viewing place for spectacular sunsets
On the eastern end of the island is the village of Oia,
and on the western aspect is Akrotiri which is near the ruins of the same name and the famous Red Beach.
Even potted cacti look like works of art.
It is worth noting, that bus services in winter are much less than in summer, so a taxi from the airport to accommodation may be a more reliable (but much more expensive 25 euro v two euro) option. I considered walking the seven km distance to my accommodation, but arriving in the dark and having missed the last bus by mere minutes, I was forced to get a taxi; there was also something luxurious about being dropped right at the door to accommodation, and I wallowed in the feeling of for a few minutes, especially as I was a serial budget traveller.
On hindsight, I quite possibly might not have been so successful in finding said accommodation if left to my own devices as it was squeezed into a very narrow one car width steep alleyway!
My digs - ‘Sunny Days’ Air BnB, was located on the far edge of Fira, away from the hustle and bustle of the main tourist part of the small town. I imagined that during the high season months of summer this could be a bonus. The complex was a modest white-washed building, with delightful French-doored rooms opening onto a balcony. I ditched my bag, and headed out immediately with my camera for a walk, eager to re-trace steps of over 30 years ago.
Memories are a funny thing - you think you can remember - but the memory fades and changes accuracy, only to be jolted into yesteryear by some sort of sensory invasion - a smell, a view, or in my case, a particular corner where a jewellery shop contained the wedding ring I had purchased decades before with my ex-husband. It was still there, and even though nothing had changed, everything had changed.
Fira is a myriad of tiny narrow paved streets through which only scooters or people on foot can travel.
Vehicles are restricted to the main road which runs the length of the caldera, along with some roads on the gentler slopes to the south side of the island. Blue domes grace most of the churches with brightly painted window frames contrasting against rounded white-washed houses. There is something ethereally satisfying about the contrasting abodes against the deep aquamarine blue of the Aegean Sea; something that sits well within the pit of your being - a familiarity that is unexplainable. Perhaps this is the result of an excellent marketing team silently invading magazines, social media and even Hollywood, with pristine Greek locations, or perhaps it is just something more innate.
The village sits atop the island caldera with a dizzying view down to the old port, where 35 years ago, we docked from the mainland, to be greeted by a donkey train offering to transport us to our accommodation. I remember looking up at the zig zagging steps and preferring to tackle them by foot. Which we did. Back then it seemed an age, in reality it is a little over a ten minute walk at most, although I can understand why some people would complain. Now with the port situated near the northern end of the island, large cruise ships are greeted by tour buses - none of this donkey business. The donkeys are used more for transporting raw materials for the ever increasing construction being carried out on the island - I wondered how they could possibly fit any more as it seemed that every square inch of it which was not a vineyard - was accommodation.
Donkey’s get ready to descend to the old port.
Santorini is proposed to be the lost island of Atlantis, and certainly there is evidence of a vast volcanic eruption which blew the top of the island off and changed civilisation there and every other nearby island, forever.
The ruins of Ancient Thera are located on Mesa Vouno mountain in Santorini, specifically between the villages of Kamari and Perissa.
Ruins at Ancient Thera.
The site sits atop the mountain, about 360 meters above sea level.
In recent years however, Santorini is becoming increasingly known for its wines, in particular Assyrtiko, a grape vine grown by twisting it into a hole in the ground, due to lack of vineyard space. This gives the wine a particular flavour and ups the price considerably - the average bottle for a good one, selling for over $100 NZD. Land is most definitely HOT property there and considering the volcanic history, one can see why!
Colour is everywhere.
Moody clouds adorn the sky
Winter in Santorini gives off a lazy vibe - the air was chilly, a gentle breeze blew most days and I was free to wader the streets imagining what it was like with thousands of tourists squashing into the narrow alleys - and thanking my good judgement to have stayed away during this time. Accommodation was freely available, food was cheap even though there were fewer choices, and the streets were empty making it perfect for photography and lazy wandering.
Back in the 80’s as an impressionable teen, I saw a movie called Summer Lovers. It was set on this island, in the village of Oia. I remember being adamant I would get there - and a decade later my ex-husband and I did, as part of a greater three month trip around Europe. We had sailed between Greek islands on creaky rusty tubs and I have vivid memories of ouzo-fuelled illness colouring my sea-fearing adventures.
Sailing between the islands is still an extremely popular form of transportation, and the Greeks are intertwined with the ocean - they have sea water rather than blood running through their veins. Island life becomes a product of the weather - it defines the ability to catch fish, to offer tourism and to grow food crops, consequently the greek islanders are a hardy innovative bunch.
Towards Oia
My thighs burnt as I took the final few steps out of Fira towards Oia, finding the track which linked villages along the east end of the caldera. I planned to walk the 12km to Oia which I could see on the farthest point to the east and if necessary catch the 4.30 pm bus back, BUT my preference was to walk both directions.
Leaving early enough to allow such time for ambling, I drank in the views, whilst bidding my good mornings to teams of construction workers working on new builds (which I could only assume were for tourist accommodations), cleaning and creating new paths, and repairing existing housing.
The place was alive with activity aimed at readiness for what seemed like a far-off summer.
Rustic charm
Oia is possibly the most picturesque of the main villages on the island, with the famous triple blue domes representing the quintessential Santorini. People flock to this part of the island to capture sunset and to experience the villages food offerings.
The small narrow path changed from stone to mud and before long I was avoiding sure-footed donkeys laden with rocks, earning their days keep as cheap labour, with tanned wiry men urging them along using stern calls and the occasional slap on the rump.
I enjoyed the architecture here - it was more colourful than Fira, and also housed several ancient windmills, hinting at the towns location in capturing prevailing winds. Wandering the towns narrow streets, popping into artisan stores, I looked down and saw a house I recognised.
The house in Oia used in the movie Summer Lovers.
There it was !
The Summer Lovers house from the movie - now an Air Bnb, but still emanating the trademark Santorini abode vibe, that the islands houses had. Smooth corners, roughcast plaster exterior, wooden shutters, brightly painted doors and trimmings set against white walls.
The brilliant blue ocean beyond, along with rows of potted cacti and other brightly coloured plants was complemented with fat contented street cats finding patches of warm sunlight to lounge in.
This was typical Santorini.
Photographing the windmills at the islands tip, I noticed the sky was rapidly turning an ominous dark grey and I realised I would not get back to Fira without getting doused in rain. Then it started, and when it came down, it did not hold back. The streets turned into streams, and like all streams, the water goes where there is the least resistance - downwards. The steps became slippery death traps and water collected opportunistically on any flat area.
Deep puddles formed. I didn’t have a rain jacket.
Ouch.
Bussing was my only option.
Dark skies over Oia.
Thunder roared and lightning cracked and the rain came in broad horizontal sheets. I have never seen such a black angry sky or steps being transformed into waterfalls.
Things began to blow over.
I found the bus shelter and huddled there along with six other folk hopeful of a bus. We swapped travel stories; a family from India; a young couple with a baby from USA; me, and one cat curled up on an old blanket.
The cold began to bite into my skin.
One warm plate of moussaka later in one of the only open cafes in Fira, I was reflecting on how lucky I was to be back on this incredible island. Later, I gratefully crawled into a warm bed while the rain pelted loudly on the roof of my room, lulling me into a contentment filled sleep.
The rain can only but feel better on a stunning Greek island.
What bliss.
Street cats are cared for here like family members.
Sun-loving Santorini cat.
Tips for Santorini:
Flights from Athens to Santorini are well catered for - with approx 250 a week during the summer months and this shifts down to around 40 per week during winter.
There are also ferries from Athens and other islands.
Accommodation is cheap during the off-season.
Some cafes and restaurants close completely during the off-season.
There are cheap buses running to and from the airport, approx every hour for 2 euro each trip.
Buses cover the expanse of the island and offer a cheap way to get from point to point.
You can hire scooters, cars and 4 wheeler ATV’s in Fira
Fira has three supermarkets - two are out of the main area and one is on the main street (a lot smaller than the others).
Be prepared for strong sudden rain in the winter months - take rain gear.
Hiking opportunities are easy to access. There are well-marked trails all over the island.
