Something About Santorini

A few months ago on a Saturday, I watched an episode of

Rick Steves’ Europe on PBS. Featured was the famed Greek

Isle of Santorini, a place I had the pleasure of visiting back

in the late 1980s.

Several thousand years ago, Santorini, a volcanic island

in the Aegean Sea, had a thriving civilization until it erup-

ted and blew the hell out that Minoan utopia. Well, over

centuries new inhabitants rebuilt another society, rimmed

primarily along the steep cliffs of the volcanic caldera—

Truly a scenic and breathtaking place.

When I visited, some thirty years ago, there was still a

pervasive nostalgic feel of relaxed historic and earthy

simplicity; donkey drovers ferrying supplies and tourists

up and down perilous and winding trails; fishermen sail-

ing out daily into the deep cerulean sea; white-washed,

mom and pop shops, quaint and cosy cafes and modest

hotels stacked atop one another, dotting the perpendic-

ular, volcanic hillsides.

Back then, there were no Hiltons, Burger Kings or Starbucks,

not a single multi-national conglomerate was to be found. My,

how things have changed since then. In Steves’ travelogue, he

presented a far different scene where corporate conglomerates

and profiteers have exploited the once sleepy-eyed and charm-

ing society. Cable cars, modern buses, and all manner of com-

mercial enterprise now cater to a bustling international tourist

trade. What a shame.

My memories take me back to the day I disembarked the ferry

from Piraeus to Fira, Santorini. To ascend the 800-foot caldera

rim from sea-level to the top, the adventurous tourist could

either walk, hire a donkey drover or take a rickety old bus which

puffed, clanged, creaked, buckled and bumped as it struggled to

climb every meter of the way.

All of us on board that bus, tourist and native alike, braved that

white-knuckled ride as we crept higher and higher, negotiating

myriad hair-pin turns, all the while swaying precariously close

to the edge of oblivion. I am sure like me, every passenger was

hoping against hope that that well-worn rust-bucket of a bus

would eventually reach the top and safety.

I too was reminded that Santorini, although dormant at the

moment, sits atop an active volcano. I knew then, that my ad-

venture of a lifetime had only just begun. And the devastation

of another eruption would be far too great for even the

machine of modern development and wheels of commerce

to escape.

I  watched as the young woman pulled herself out of the blue

Aegean back onto the tour boad. She stood unabashedly naked above the

waist. And I thought to myself, thank god progress had not gone too far.

At least there was one mythological Greek godess left on the grand Isle

of Santorini.

Chris Hanch 12-20-18