In my mid-twenties, I lived in Richmond, VA for a year, and I worked in a travel agency. It was, honestly, a demeaning job and a crummy salary, but the one good thing that job did for me was open my eyes to places around the world that I hadn't even heard of, or at the very least hadn't ever considered someday seeing for myself.
Santorini was one of those places. I didn't have a terrible lot to do at this job, and since they frowned on using the internet for personal use, I spent many hours looking longingly through travel brochures. I learned about The World, a luxury condominium cruise ship; and Turtle Island, where someday I fully intend to stay, scandalizing them with my backpack. I also learned about Santorini, Greece.
I stared at pictures that looked a lot like that, and thought it was the most beautiful, enchanting thing I had ever seen. Those perfect whitewashed buildings set right into the cliffside, those blue-domed churches and graceful arches. A Greek Island in the Aegean Sea.
Around this time I also found in a secondhand bookshop a collection of short stories by Mary Flanagan, The Blue Woman. Many of these stories were set in the Greek Islands, although not Santorini specifically. I wanted to go, I dreamed about going; but it was far and foreign and expensive and frightening. Someday. Someday I would go.
Years later, as I sat in the passenger seat of a Toyota Camry on the New Jersey Turnpike, I turned thoughts over aloud with my companion as we perused a mental map of Europe's various allures. The idea of "backpacking through Europe" was still only a few days old, still in the "wouldn't this be an absolute lark" stage. I hadn't set on anything, hadn't even decided to go. And where? Scandinavia? The British Isles? Eastern Europe? Europe was big. I did not own a backpack. I had only slept in a hostel a handful of times. I was piss poor at budgeting money.
I was just kind of voicing countries and cities as they came to me, seeing how they felt when spoken aloud. It was a surprise to my own self when I burst out with: "Holy shit, Santorini. I can go to Santorini. That's it, I'm going. Santorini."
And my commitment to backpack was sealed. I was going, finally, after almost ten years (yikes), to get to see Santorini for myself.
Five months later, I stood bewildered and sleep-deprived at the mouth of Piraeus Port, getting soaked in a steady pre-dawn rain. I was looking at a ferry, complete with a cheerful yellow sign blinking at me in reassurance that I was, thank God, once again at the right place. "Paros," the sign flashed. "Naxos. Santorini." I boarded, grinning like a fool.
It's an almost eight-hour ride from Piraeus to Santorini, and of course you have to tack on the hour it took me to get from my hostel in Athens to the port in the first place. I was beat, but I loved the ferry ride. It had a little cafe restaurant, a coffeeshop/bar, and a second bar upstairs outside. This thing was huuuuge. It was also comparatively empty, and I could barely imagine it during high season, every single metal chair strewn about the deck filled with pink, sweating tourists. I was very grateful to be going in November, despite the chill and rain. I got coffee and went up to huddle on the wet deck and watch the sun come up. As we got further from Athens the weather cleared up quickly which I was happy to see!
The ferry ride passed quickly, although I couldn't nap despite paying for an upgraded "airplane seat" in an inner cabin. This inner cabin was strewn through with TVs blasting Greek programs the entire time! I almost felt back in Georgia. Instead, I spent a most of my time outside, watching the islands and islets roll past. In the whole eight hours, the boat was never once out of sight of land. Did you know the Greek Archipelago has over 3,000 islands, only about 130 of which are inhabited? It makes for a beautiful ride.
What blew my mind was passing some tiny island and seeing, halfway up the cliff, three or four buildings nestled in there, all alone. How did those people even get there? What do they do for water? For food? You can't do much farming on a rocky cliff. I've always liked being on my own, and that level of extreme isolation holds almost a macabre fascination for me. Maybe someday I'll try it for a while. I can see the blog now. "My Three Months Alone on a Mediterranean Island." I better start stocking my wine collection now.
I was surprised at how quickly the ride was over. And all of a sudden I was getting my first look at beautiful Santorini.
On the island, I had decided to give myself a gigantic reward for finishing up my trip with smashing success. I had booked a single room at the Villa Manos, outside of Fira. Coming in the off-season meant that a single room here cost me the astonishing price of 20 euro a night, which was the top of my budget for a dorm. I could have stayed in a dorm for as little as seven euro, but damn. A single room. I couldn't resist. I booked it.
I admit to also booking at Villa Manos because they offered to pick guests up at the port, and personally take them right to the hotel! After my long travel day, there nothing could have sounded any better. And true to their word, a van was waiting. A very nice man whose name I never got shepherded me and two other girls also on my ferry to the hotel door.
Villa Manos is beautiful. Just gorgeous. There is a pool! Although sadly it was much too cold to swim during the time I was there. And Poppy, the owner and wife of my driver, could not be nicer. She welcomed her new arrivals with plates of pasta and a glass of wine! And then she showed us all to our rooms.
Yeah, that's the view from my private room onto my private balcony, and then the amazing view off the balcony itself! I was so happy I didn't know what to do. So, I took a nap, then walked into town for dinner.
Here I found the one not-so-good thing about Villa Manos. It's a little isolated, and to get anywhere you have to walk on the road, which has no shoulder and is full of crazy Greek drivers. At night, there are also the dogs barking. Confession: after Georgia, I am scared of dogs. I mean, I love dogs, but I love them to be leashed or behind fences, with their owners, and as small as possible. Walking at night and hearing the barking and howling erupt all around me did not make me happy. Once, a few evenings later, an unleashed dog did rush me, but thankfully backed off as I left his territory. I took to carrying my pepper spray in my pocket, not for humans but for dogs.
But anyway. This first night I had no problems with dogs or anything else, and ended up selecting a quiet restaurant that was empty except for a large group of happy Greek men in the corner. My waitress was incredible, spoke perfect English, and patiently explained the menu to me since half of it was only in Greek. I asked her what she'd recommend... and wouldn't you know she went and named almost the exact same dish I'd had last night in Athens! Oh well. After that I couldn't very well not take her advice, so I had stewed lamb and potatoes again. This one was seasoned slightly differently though, and there was no feta. Pretty good, if not something I'd usually want two nights in a row. :)
Of course it comes as no surprise to you that yet again I spent too much on dinner! That orange stuff in the back is a spicy goat cheese spread, tirokafteri (still easier than Georgian). Goat cheese is hit-or-miss with me but I loved the heat at least. I think I ordered dessert too that night, but now I can't remember what it was. At any rate, I had the best time chatting with my friendly waitress and writing in my journal as I polished off the last of my wine carafe. And then it was home to my very own room for a shower and bed!
(And... shit. Here I was thinking I could somehow cram all of Santorini into one post. I see now that was unrealistic of me. Welp, here's me adding another item or two to my to-do list before Istanbul. Stay tuned for Kamari Beach, more dog adventures, the kindness of strangers, a boat ride to a volcano, an ancient city sheltered in a Wal-Mart, and grilled octopus by the side of the sea. And donkeys!)
Santorini was one of those places. I didn't have a terrible lot to do at this job, and since they frowned on using the internet for personal use, I spent many hours looking longingly through travel brochures. I learned about The World, a luxury condominium cruise ship; and Turtle Island, where someday I fully intend to stay, scandalizing them with my backpack. I also learned about Santorini, Greece.
I stared at pictures that looked a lot like that, and thought it was the most beautiful, enchanting thing I had ever seen. Those perfect whitewashed buildings set right into the cliffside, those blue-domed churches and graceful arches. A Greek Island in the Aegean Sea.
Around this time I also found in a secondhand bookshop a collection of short stories by Mary Flanagan, The Blue Woman. Many of these stories were set in the Greek Islands, although not Santorini specifically. I wanted to go, I dreamed about going; but it was far and foreign and expensive and frightening. Someday. Someday I would go.
Years later, as I sat in the passenger seat of a Toyota Camry on the New Jersey Turnpike, I turned thoughts over aloud with my companion as we perused a mental map of Europe's various allures. The idea of "backpacking through Europe" was still only a few days old, still in the "wouldn't this be an absolute lark" stage. I hadn't set on anything, hadn't even decided to go. And where? Scandinavia? The British Isles? Eastern Europe? Europe was big. I did not own a backpack. I had only slept in a hostel a handful of times. I was piss poor at budgeting money.
I was just kind of voicing countries and cities as they came to me, seeing how they felt when spoken aloud. It was a surprise to my own self when I burst out with: "Holy shit, Santorini. I can go to Santorini. That's it, I'm going. Santorini."
And my commitment to backpack was sealed. I was going, finally, after almost ten years (yikes), to get to see Santorini for myself.
Five months later, I stood bewildered and sleep-deprived at the mouth of Piraeus Port, getting soaked in a steady pre-dawn rain. I was looking at a ferry, complete with a cheerful yellow sign blinking at me in reassurance that I was, thank God, once again at the right place. "Paros," the sign flashed. "Naxos. Santorini." I boarded, grinning like a fool.
It's an almost eight-hour ride from Piraeus to Santorini, and of course you have to tack on the hour it took me to get from my hostel in Athens to the port in the first place. I was beat, but I loved the ferry ride. It had a little cafe restaurant, a coffeeshop/bar, and a second bar upstairs outside. This thing was huuuuge. It was also comparatively empty, and I could barely imagine it during high season, every single metal chair strewn about the deck filled with pink, sweating tourists. I was very grateful to be going in November, despite the chill and rain. I got coffee and went up to huddle on the wet deck and watch the sun come up. As we got further from Athens the weather cleared up quickly which I was happy to see!
The ferry ride passed quickly, although I couldn't nap despite paying for an upgraded "airplane seat" in an inner cabin. This inner cabin was strewn through with TVs blasting Greek programs the entire time! I almost felt back in Georgia. Instead, I spent a most of my time outside, watching the islands and islets roll past. In the whole eight hours, the boat was never once out of sight of land. Did you know the Greek Archipelago has over 3,000 islands, only about 130 of which are inhabited? It makes for a beautiful ride.
What blew my mind was passing some tiny island and seeing, halfway up the cliff, three or four buildings nestled in there, all alone. How did those people even get there? What do they do for water? For food? You can't do much farming on a rocky cliff. I've always liked being on my own, and that level of extreme isolation holds almost a macabre fascination for me. Maybe someday I'll try it for a while. I can see the blog now. "My Three Months Alone on a Mediterranean Island." I better start stocking my wine collection now.
I was surprised at how quickly the ride was over. And all of a sudden I was getting my first look at beautiful Santorini.
 |
| I learned later that this was the village of Oia, up top, with even tinier Ammoudi down below. |
I admit to also booking at Villa Manos because they offered to pick guests up at the port, and personally take them right to the hotel! After my long travel day, there nothing could have sounded any better. And true to their word, a van was waiting. A very nice man whose name I never got shepherded me and two other girls also on my ferry to the hotel door.
Villa Manos is beautiful. Just gorgeous. There is a pool! Although sadly it was much too cold to swim during the time I was there. And Poppy, the owner and wife of my driver, could not be nicer. She welcomed her new arrivals with plates of pasta and a glass of wine! And then she showed us all to our rooms.
Yeah, that's the view from my private room onto my private balcony, and then the amazing view off the balcony itself! I was so happy I didn't know what to do. So, I took a nap, then walked into town for dinner.
Here I found the one not-so-good thing about Villa Manos. It's a little isolated, and to get anywhere you have to walk on the road, which has no shoulder and is full of crazy Greek drivers. At night, there are also the dogs barking. Confession: after Georgia, I am scared of dogs. I mean, I love dogs, but I love them to be leashed or behind fences, with their owners, and as small as possible. Walking at night and hearing the barking and howling erupt all around me did not make me happy. Once, a few evenings later, an unleashed dog did rush me, but thankfully backed off as I left his territory. I took to carrying my pepper spray in my pocket, not for humans but for dogs.
But anyway. This first night I had no problems with dogs or anything else, and ended up selecting a quiet restaurant that was empty except for a large group of happy Greek men in the corner. My waitress was incredible, spoke perfect English, and patiently explained the menu to me since half of it was only in Greek. I asked her what she'd recommend... and wouldn't you know she went and named almost the exact same dish I'd had last night in Athens! Oh well. After that I couldn't very well not take her advice, so I had stewed lamb and potatoes again. This one was seasoned slightly differently though, and there was no feta. Pretty good, if not something I'd usually want two nights in a row. :)
Of course it comes as no surprise to you that yet again I spent too much on dinner! That orange stuff in the back is a spicy goat cheese spread, tirokafteri (still easier than Georgian). Goat cheese is hit-or-miss with me but I loved the heat at least. I think I ordered dessert too that night, but now I can't remember what it was. At any rate, I had the best time chatting with my friendly waitress and writing in my journal as I polished off the last of my wine carafe. And then it was home to my very own room for a shower and bed!
(And... shit. Here I was thinking I could somehow cram all of Santorini into one post. I see now that was unrealistic of me. Welp, here's me adding another item or two to my to-do list before Istanbul. Stay tuned for Kamari Beach, more dog adventures, the kindness of strangers, a boat ride to a volcano, an ancient city sheltered in a Wal-Mart, and grilled octopus by the side of the sea. And donkeys!)
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