First I want to say how surprised, moved, and grateful we are for the outpouring of kind and supportive comments we received regarding Don’s health scare. Thank you to all of you who read, and/or commented, liked, and shared his story. We have truly felt the caring from this wonderful online world we inhabit, both here and on Facebook. What a gift it has been to hear from you all, what a comfort. We have sensed the healing energy that surrounds us. Thank you!

Don continues to improve, and we both continue to learn to navigate our changed circumstances and roles in this life we have together. It’s not always easy, but the love we have for each other, and the support from family and friends pulls us through. We grieve what we have lost, have hope for the future, and celebrate all we have and are grateful for right now; and there is much to be grateful for.

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But now for Santorini! I will tell you about magical Santorini.





We are shown to our room in Fira. Barely looking at it I walk straight through to the balcony, and there gaze out on the much-heralded sapphire waters of the Aegean Sea. I have arrived, finally, on Santorini.





This small island has captured the imagination of the world since antiquity, its singular beauty making it somehow a mystical, enigmatic place, a jewel of creation that shines among the brightest in the world. It’s no wonder it has been considered a mythical island since ancient times, and holds its own special place in Greek mythology. 

On a more prosaic note, I’ll begin with a little excerpt from Don’s notes. I love the way he records all the mundane details of travel:
7 June 2022. It didn’t take long to get to the ferry port in Heraklion, and the taxi driver charged us only six Euros. What a deal! Upstairs on the ferry we began on one side of the ship, then Alison saw free window seats on the other side and raced over to grab them. I went to the coffee bar to get a cup of tea. This was the worst tea so far in Greece: hot water with milk already added and the teabag still in the saucer. Like drinking hot milky water. I ate my leftover roll from last night’s supper then didn’t feel great for the rest of the trip.

Finally, after two hours on the Aegean Sea, I saw Santorini for the first time: steep cliffs and white houses.

The ferry was not going to stop there long because it was continuing on to Naxos. Alison got our luggage, and off we went to find a taxi. They were all taken, but across the street were a number of men holding big TAXI signs, so we held our noses and went to chance our luck with the freebooters. At first he wanted 30 Euros for the trip, but after we made noises about being ripped off in Greece, he lowered it to 20 Euros. Then we followed our driver to a mini bus and waited for it to fill up before finally leaving. It took about half an hour up winding roads to get to Fira. After dropping off a number of other passengers the driver finally stopped and said abruptly Lefteris, and after unloading our cases, pointed down a road off to the left. We were stranded, but google maps showed us the way. It was only a few minutes walk, but down a very steep road to the sign for Lefteris Traditional Rooms, which pointed down a flight of stairs.

Because we’re protecting Don’s hernia I’m dealing with all the luggage – two backpacks and two cases. Manoeuvring all that down a very steep hill with uneven pavement is, um, challenging. And hilarious. The cases go rolling all over the place, but eventually I get it done with no people or luggage harmed in the adventure. And then down the stairs, into the room and out onto the balcony for the view. We’ve arrived!

Fira. Thera. Thira. Santorini. What are the correct names? The official, and ancient name of this group of four islands left by a massive volcanic eruption some 3600 years ago (which formed the caldera that Santorini is famous for, and which largely contributed to the fall of the Minoan civilization) is Thera, though Greeks call the main island Santorini (Saint Irene), which was the name given it by the Latin Empire in the 1200’s. As for the town, the island’s capital, it is also called Thera. Or Fira, an alternative pronunciation. So the island is Thera, and the town is Thera, but the island is called Santorini and the town is called Fira. Or Thera and Thera. Got it?

Either way it doesn’t matter. What matters is we get settled in and then set out to explore. We are pleased with our lodgings. It’s in a quiet area a good fifteen-minute walk from Tourist Central – a procession of restaurants, cafés, bars, hotels, tour operators, and shops along the main street and clustered around the cable car station and the Orthodox Cathedral. We do venture there briefly for information about the hike to Oia and boat tours, but for the most part stay well away.

We climb the stairs from Leftheris up to the blue-domed yellow Church of Agios Efstathios at the top,





and make our way along the maze of traditional winding streets of this ancient whitewashed town clinging to the top of a cliff some 400 metres (1312 ft) above the sea.








It is endlessly and utterly endearing, delighting us at every turn with hidden chapels, vibrant bougainvillea spilling over stone walls,





arched doorways,





and skulking cats quickly disappearing from sight.





We walk this labyrinth of alleyways











at least twice a day over the course of our three days in Santorini and never tire of them, enchanted by their charm and entertained by the anomalies: a pink house!








and Taboo Santorini, the local sex paraphernalia shop.





It’s just so unexpected, seems so out of place in this town and island that seems more like a Disney set in its perfection than a real place inhabited by real people. And by creatures.





One of our very favourite things about this walk to the centre of town is that it first brings us to Pelican Kipos. Once discovered we never look further for a place to eat; not quite three meals a day, but close. We did the same in Goreme in Turkey. If you find a good place to eat – close by, reasonable prices, and good food – why look elsewhere? Pelican Kipos ticks all these boxes, but the biggest selling point is the garden setting. It’s a soothing place of refuge, and I sit there feeling very lucky, so lucky; it’s a feeling so big I don’t know where to put it, what to do with it, as if I’ve somehow expanded inside and don’t know who this new space belongs to.





We are both surprised and delighted by the Greek tradition of giving small free desserts after a meal. At one restaurant in Athens it was small individual chocolate cakes with ice cream, in Chania it was sweet semolina (though I didn’t like this one so much), in Heraklion one place gave us really intense chocolate mousse, and another place gave us yogurt with caramelized grapes. At Pelican Kipos it’s crême brûlée. Heaven.

We book a boat tour, get directions for the beginning of the hike to Oia, go home for a nap, and then walk the alleys again, this time to take the long zig-zag staircase down to the old port, passing some of the famous Santorini donkeys along the way. At one time they were the only form of transportation available, and thus became the symbol of the island. 





It’s the end of the day for them and we watch their wranglers steering them back up the hill as we head down.











I read in more than one place that it’s better not to ride the donkeys as there are concerns over their welfare. Apart from that I saw one woman riding up on the back of a donkey and she looked grimly uncomfortable; an endurance test that was possibly worse than walking up all 587 steps.

The old port, known as Gialos, is at the bottom of the cliff below the town and is used as the boarding place for boat tours of the caldera, as well as being home to the local fishing fleet.





Walking down is easy, but we’re definitely not walking back up again. There’s a cable car and we gladly take it.





It’s getting towards the end of the day and colour is starting to appear in the sky.





After stopping for dinner we head home, arriving just in time to watch the sunset from the balcony.








Santorini is a big backwards “C”, the southernmost of the Cyclades Islands, with its back towards Turkey to the east, and its front door facing the caldera, or cauldron, that makes it so unique and special. In ancient times it was a round island, and part of the Minoan civilization, but an enormous volcanic eruption blew a hole in the centre of the island, which sank a large portion of it to the bottom of the sea and created the caldera. Some believe the portion at the bottom of the sea is the mythical lost city of Atlantis. Perhaps it is.

Fira, and three other villages, are located on this western side of the island. They are perched on the cliff, looking out towards the still-active volcano in the middle of the caldera, and are famous for their iconic blue-domed churches,








cliffside paths, and panoramic views.





Lonely Planet describes Fira thus: Its caldera edge is layered with swish hotels, cave houses and infinity pools, all backed by a warren of narrow streets packed with shops, more bars and restaurants. And people. Beyond the polished surface of the main tourist areas . . . . . the prices of fame are exposed: frenetic vehicular activity, meandering pedestrians along the roads (there are few pavements), and frenzied development.

But that’s not our experience at all, perhaps in part because we are not there at the height of the season, we stay away from the busy areas, and we certainly can’t afford any of those swish hotels with infinity pools.

We are completely bewitched by this most unique of islands, as millions before us have been. I always remind myself that there’s a reason a place is overrun with tourists – it’s because it’s really special, and really worth visiting. Santorini is like that, and of course this beguiling place is the subject of a Greek myth; an erotic dream, a secret pregnancy, and a story of love and longing.

While on the island of Anafi, Euphemus dreamed he made love to a beautiful nymph. All in a dream. She said she was pregnant and feared the wrath of her father. It emerged that she was Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty, her father was Triton, son of Poseidon. She must hide from their power and needed a place to give birth and raise her child. She asked Euphemus to throw a clod of earth into the sea. All in a dream. On awakening, as Euphemus sailed away he threw a clod of earth from Anafi into the sea. Miraculously an island emerged. The child was named Theras, and the island became known as Thera. Euphemus was never able to forget the sweet dream of the nymph and in his longing returned again and again to the island hoping one day to find his lost imaginary love. Thus, according to ancient Greek mythology  Santorini was born of a love story and formed by a miracle. Of course it was.







Next post: A four-hour hike from Fira to Oia along cliffside paths and then along the jagged ridge of the island’s long curve to the west.





All words and images by Alison Louise Armstrong unless otherwise noted
© Alison Louise Armstrong and Adventures in Wonderland – a pilgrimage of the heart, 2010-2023.