We came to Santorini at night. The islands loomed ahead of us, dark and mysterious. As the ship’s engines died, the lights in the harbour and on the high town winked across the black water.
Moments later, a small tender came bobbing to the ship’s side and the passengers crowded on to it amid chaotic cries and shouts, as baggage was lowered over the side to the shrill supervision of its owners. The town directly above is Phira, and from this harbour, Ormos Fira, the way to get up there can be compared to some rigorous initiation rite — but more of that later.
Our ship, however, took us to the second harbour, Ormos Athinios, tucked in around a massive, jutting rock. Here the ship could berth and we went by taxi up the zigzag road and proceeded along the mountain’s crusty spine toward the town.
The word for Santorini is unique. It has a specialness not found in any other place. The town of Phira is immaculate, and, from a distance, the white buildings perched on top of that dark volcanic rim of rock look like a flock of sea gulls about to take flight. The streets of the town, narrow and winding along different levels, are lined with inviting shops filled with handicrafts and jewellery. Santorini itself seems handicrafted by nature, its contours boldly cut and fanciful, like well-fired earthenware set on an enormous cloth of blue sea.
The islands form a circling group embracing the sea with long, brown arms. In the center of the deep blue bowl thus created, sullen and silent, a searing rage grown cold, lie the twin islands of Nea Kameni and Palea Kameni (new and old burnt).
Dominating Nea Kameni, the largest crater rises to a height of 131 metres, a deep-set, brooding cyclopic eye, once the centre of raging fury.
In 1960 Angelos Galanopoulos, Professor of Seismology at the University of Athens, advanced the startling theory that Santorini was once a vast, round mountain, Strongili, and that somewhere around 2000-1500 BC the island split under tremendous force, plunging into a boiling sea the magnificent Atlantis of Plato’s famous dialogue. Since that Titanic event, irregular lava lands of Santorini have repeatedly shifted, rising and submerging with alarming caprice. As many as 11 eruptions have been recorded since 198 BC.
A motor boat will take the adventurer out to the volcano. The boat leaves every day at three in the afternoon but if you decide on this excursion, wear stout shoes! A footpath leads upward past lava ravines and craters of ever-increasing size, until you reach the highest, called ‘The King,’ or ‘Georgios I.’ If you have ever envied the astronauts in their moon flights, this is a chance to approximate their experience. Nothing lives on this dark chunk of earth, which is bleak, black, and sulphurous.
Santorini can be reached only by sea. Boats leave from Platia Karaiskaki (near the last subway stop in Piraeus). There are usually departures from Piraeus everyday except Sunday.
The trip takes from 8-12 hrs. depending on the vessel. Tickets range from 175 drs (3rd class) to 430 drs (1 st class), one way. For further details call 421-352, or contact your travel agent.
BUT why linger? Beautiful Santorini beckons, risen from the ash like a new Atlantis, with her castles, towns, monasteries and churches, palms and vineyards, and white-winged windmills which have ground barley for generations of the islanders.
The great stretches of pebble mosaic roads cannot be overlooked. Such painstaking work! It leads everywhere through the town; the open courtyard of the new Cathedral is laid with intricate black and white pebble mosaic, and the pavement in front of the adjacent Hotel Atlantis shows the graceful swallow motif of ancient Akrotiri.
Accommodation is reasonable in Phira. There are three hotels, Atlantis, Kanari, and Panorama and rooms can be found in private houses for about 30 drachmas per night. The Atlantis is one of the most pleasant hotels to be found anywhere. With spacious corridors and comfortable rooms, it is decorated throughout with a wild flower motif.
The shops of Santorini are extremely tempting. What is more, you can see shoes made, furniture carved, and gold and silver being worked by smithies. Visit the attractive black-timbered workshop of the Brothers Lipatetzoglou, and see their beautiful silver displays; the Greco Gold Shop, with original designs by Stephanos, and the handicraft Carpet School, just beside the Museum .The Phira Museum is, of course, a must, with its 3000 year old pottery and votive offerings from the Bronze Age.
Shortly after boat landing time, the town of Phira is as hectic as an oriental bazaar. It is interesting to reflect that much the same kind of commercial activity was going on in the third millennium BC in the Bronze Age city of Akrotiri, just along the coast a little way, where the archaeological digging is still in progress. Amiable guards will show you around Akrotiri, and they seem to have a sympathetic feeling for the ancient ruin of shops, houses, and little public squares, not so very different from those used in Santorini today.
As a bonus for your interest in the excavation, there is a fine sandy beach within a few minutes’ walk, smooth and uncrowded, with a restaurant nearby.
The day I left Santorini, I rose at dawn to greet the incoming cruise ship. I could hear the clatter of hooves on the cobblestones as the huge convoy of mules and donkeys began their tumultuous descent to the port. Before I reached the bottom of the cliff, running down the 580 steps with the mules and drivers, many of the passengers were already on their way up.
‘Where, oh where, is my husband!’ lamented one matron, clutching the saddle bar with a white-knuckle grip.
By contrast, an elegantly dressed and coiffured lady grinned, ‘How do you like Lightning,’ as her methodical little donkey plodded along resignedly, well in the rear of other hurtling animals. The men were mostly grinning sheepishly.
At the bottom of The Steps, a line of wary passengers waited as their mounts were led up one by one, and the muleteers lifted each dubious tourist astride.
Such is the initiation rite of Santorini! Not to be cheated of the honour, my companion and I hired a couple of mules and rode back up to our hotel — regretfully to pack for our return voyage to Athens.
