The cliffs rise majestically over the intense intertwining shades of cerulean. Doorways with winding staircases line the cliffside and a multitude of buildings vie for the perfect view of the sunset. Overhead a wide expanse of light blue merges with shades of violet. A circle of yellow begins to spark orange and fiery hues, pushing the violet farther to the edges as it slides behind the island’s volcano, an earthly expression of its heat and power. Tourists line the walls, enjoy wine on rooftop terraces, and float on ferries, awaiting that final fade of color, the final act in Santorini’s famous play.
Gyros slowly revolve on the spits and the aroma wafts through the stone alleys. Shoppers trade shoulders, bearing the weight of their treasures – hand painted wooden icons, worry beads, jewelry, and wines. Tourists snap photos, trying to capture the unique landscape of Santorini: the buildings of white and blue, rounded domes and crosses, bars and terraces – all pinched close and teetering on the edge of the steep ravine. Men stand in restaurant doorways, attempting to lure in guests. The clip clop of the donkeys echoes as the team, laden with building supplies, shuffles up the steep pathway, leaving droppings less pleasant than those of Hansel and Gretel.
Signs point the way to “the Old Port,” “the Cable Car,” and the “City Centre,” but travelers laden with luggage roam the streets – “Richard, the man said it was this way.” Other travelers have more luck, stepping off the ferry at the newer port and searching for the sign bearing the name of their hotel, or being drawn in by the multiple male hotel workers who await to pounce on a possible customer. Rental car/bike/moto/atv agencies abound – each hotel favoring a different company. College girls on spring break laugh as they bombard the main street with their atvs and silver space helmets.
The abundant array of bakeries entice, the smell of feta pies, tarts, and coffee tickles noses and induces cravings. Shop windows advertise traditional Greek products – nuts, olive oil, wines, lokum, and yogurt. Old men sit at corner tables, shaking their dice and anticipating their next move on the backgammon board. Life is slow here in Santorini. There is time to wander, to sit and enjoy the view, to hear the waves crash upon the rocky shore. There is peace and happiness in living in and enjoying the moment.
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