In late April 2002 we flew from Rome to Santorini,
a Greek island well-known mostly
because it is an active volcano. Some time ago the top blew off
the volcano and water filled the crater,
so the island is now split into the
larger crescent island, where we stayed, and a
smaller island on the other side, where not much happens.
We landed late at night without a hotel reservation. Our book had
advised us to walk outside the airport and look lost. We did and
immediately a hotel owner offered us a ride to his
hotel in Fira.
Fira, the capital of the island, is
perched on the edge of the crater.
Between that and the beautiful buildings,
every pictures ends up looking like a postcard.
We took a boat ride around the islands. There are a few small
islands in the middle of the crater where you can
swim in hot springs and
stick your hand into the volcano's exhaust.
The only thing to do on the smaller island opposite is take
a donkey ride up the hill and have
lunch at the top at a restaurant that
does nothing else but serve kebabs to
donkey-riding tourists once a day.
Apparently 50 years ago there was an earthquake on this smaller island
and most everyone left. It's practically deserted to this day,
an eerie ghost town with half-crumbled buildings.
Santorini was the perfect place to spend three days after the
hectic schedule we'd kept up for four weeks. There wasn't much
to do but relax by the pool and look at the beauty around us.
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