I like to move it, move it
I like to move it, move it
I like to move it, move it
We like to move it
This “song” from the early aughts (US)/naughties (Brit) was screaming at me at full volume. I’m cringing at the inane lyrics and endless repetition.

It’s followed by a “song” from 1999 – that golden year of popular songs:
Sexbomb Sexbomb you’re a Sexbomb
You can give it to me, when I need to come along
Sexbomb sexbomb you’re my sexbomb
And baby you can turn me on.
If you’ve followed the blog for a while you’ll know I’m a fan of competitive figure skating. Sexbomb for me is Evegeny Plushenko performing a hilarious parody but to have it presented by choice, as a valid musical endeavour, and screeching at me at full volume when I’m part of a captive audience on a boat is not my idea of fun.

Witless lyrics.
Relentless beat.
I ask the DJ if he could turn the volume down a bit, but he won’t. So, being captive, I decide to just accept it, but it’s not what we signed up for, especially when we’ve been promised traditional Greek music. Surprise! You’re on a party boat!





But back to the beginning: we get the cable car down to Gialos, the old port below Fira, and watch some other boats arrive while waiting for our boat.














Finally Aphrodite arrives,





and we all climb aboard; it’s a sunset cruise of Santorini’s famous caldera!





Imagine a round island that’s also a volcano. Beneath the surface is a huge chamber filled with magma, or molten rock. One day, 3600 years ago, the volcano erupted sending the magma into the air. The sides and top of the volcano collapsed inwards since the magma was no longer there to support them, thus forming a caldera. If this had happened on a large land mass the remains would look like a crater, but because it happened on an island the surrounding sea immediately filled the resulting depression. This is the caldera of Santorini. All those years ago all that was left above water was the island of Santorini, and across the caldera the island of Thirasia, both part of the volcano. About 2000 years ago magma bubbled to the surface and cooled to become the island of Palea Kameni (Old Burnt Island), and then about 450 years ago from the centre of the volcano more magma was released to become the island of Nea Kameni (New Burnt Island). There’s one other tiny island in the caldera, Aspronisi, that is also one of the remnants of the original round island volcano. The volcano’s most recent eruption was in 1950. It is still active. Nea Kameni is known by locals simply as the volcano.

Any time I’m on a boat I’m happy, even with the blaring of unfortunate music. After a quick twenty minutes we reach the first stop, Nea Kameni,





where we have one and a half hours to explore this National Geological Park. It is a harsh, stark place,








this small island of volcanic rock with spectacular views. Not much grows here, though to my utter delight we come across carpets of yellow wildflowers,








and a view back to Fira on the main island of Santorini. On our first day in Santorini we walked down that zig-zag staircase to Gialos, the tiny port by the water snugged up close against the rocky cliff.





After hiking to the top of Nea Kameni we are soon back on the boat and headed for the next stop. It’s Palea Kameni.





Near the centre of this island, accessible from a small beach, is a hot spring warmed from the molten rock below. As it’s a tough thirty-metre swim to get there we stay on the boat, and it’s then that I discover Sostis Arvanitis, though I know nothing of him at the time. All I can see is that someone (or someones) live here in this little encampment of fishing boats by this rocky isolated uninhabited shore. There also seems to be a small building, and nearby there’s a diminutive white church.





I’m not much interested in the church. But oh this little camp of fishing boats and that small structure built into the cliff – that fascinates me.

Off to one side there’s a collection of “stuff”, handy treasures no doubt – ropes, various plastic barrels and containers, canvas tarps – all of it with a dilapidated “roof”. What is it all? Who does it belong to, and why?





Then there are the two pairs of boats, one yellow pair anchored off shore a bit,






and two red ones anchored at the “dock” right next to the small building. And I see I’ve also captured an elderly gentleman.





It took some internet sleuthing to discover what I was looking at. It’s the home of a (somewhat, but not completely) hermit named Sostis Arvanitis and his giant German shepherd, and all I can say is that I wish we had taken a tour of the caldera with him on one of his fishing boats. He does tours from time to time, but only if he likes you, and only if he feels like it. In his sixties, this fisherman and ex-sailor has chickens, and goats that he milks for making feta, and he grows various vegetables in the rich volcanic soil. Reports say he’s the only human inhabitant of the island, leaving behind his “trouble with women – she tried to kill me”, but I notice there’s a woman in one of the yellow boats. A visitor? Or perhaps he’s changed his mind about women. It happens. When you meet the right one.

It’s so surreal. Just across the water are the towns of Fira and Oia, host each year to 2 million tourists and hundreds of cruise ships, a world of excess, of conspicuous consumerism, of bucket-list excursions. And here is this man who chose a quiet simple unencumbered life alone in one of the most beautiful places in the world.

Leaving Palea Kameni we sail for a while. The music is less intrusive, and it feels truly exhilarating and joyous being on the water as the boat moves along.





There’s another swimming stop,














and then we anchor off the island of Thirasia as dinner is served.








From my notes: pretty awful really, and dessert’s a huge disappointment – small semolina squares and orange wedges. Also there’s not enough for everyone, let alone the seconds they promised us. But the music improves – finally the traditional Greek music we’ve been promised.
From Don’s notes: We were slow getting into line. By the time we get to the Greek salad it’s 95% tomatoes. The rest of the meal is not much better: some vegetables, dried out chicken cooked in some unnameable sauce, and meat balls. The tzatziki is nice. We get a glass of wine to go with the meal. Dessert: slices of fresh orange, and pieces of that awful semolina cake, which we both ignore.

And more from Don: Carrying our minimalist desserts back to our seats we are waylaid by the group of four sitting behind us, who insist that we join them at their table. This turns out to be one of the best parts of the trip: they are two American couples, long-time friends from New Jersey, who have just had two weeks holiday on Santorini.

And from my notes: I don’t mind about the music so much because we sit with Jerry and Annie, and Steven and Rosemary, and have a fabulous time with them. They are all so much fun. Don especially has a very lovely connection with Jerry – on some level those two understand each other immediately; Annie and I get up and do the Zorba dance in the aisle; we laugh, we chat; we cut loose! Don and I cut loose! We’re so used to it being just the two of us that we forget what fun it is to get together and be sociable and talk and laugh and party with some like-minded people.

I finally start partying on the party boat!





As we come nearer to Oia, the village at the north end of crescent-shaped Santorini,








the engine is slowed, the sails are hoisted,





and the mood and music changes again to something gentle and soothing. It’s nearly time for the sun to set, and most would have it that this is the main purpose of the trip.





There’s this whole thing about Santorini’s sunsets, which has reached just about mythical status. It’s one of a handful of places in the world where people gather by the thousands to watch it, and as the sun drops below the horizon there is spontaneous applause. In the high season the village becomes packed with people all crowded together to get the best view – from the castle ruins, from restaurants with a sunset view, from cars double-parked all the way along the road down to the dock below the town.





No doubt it’s a lovely sunset,





but I don’t get the hype, which I suspect comes more from the idea that sunset is the thing to do on Santorini. Go to Santorini, have fancy meals and drinks and gaze at the view, then watch the sunset with a few thousand other people. Honestly I’m not that jaded. I’m sure if I’d been in amongst the thousands gathered onshore I’d have applauded along with the rest and caught the simple camaraderie and shared joy of the moment. But I’ve seen better sunsets.


La Manzanilla, Mexico



The events of the cruise are complete and slowly the boat starts to move again. We have one last look at the village of Oia sprinkled along the clifftop like sugar,





and then it’s a straight shot along the coast to Fira. We rejoin the New Jersey Four and chat and laugh and party our way back. It’s been a slice.





Next post: From Santorini we journey by ferry to the island of Naxos, our next stop island hopping in the Cyclades.







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.