Santorini

Tuesday. September 18. 

The airport in Santorini was small. It looked like what I imagined a Third World airport would look like. All of the airport buildings were one story tall. I waited at the luggage carousel. And waited. I got the bad news from a baggage handler. My luggage had been “delayed.” Great. I can’t ever remember having a problem with luggage before. The baggage guy said I had to go to the office. “Last window on the left.” They didn’t even have the airline’s name on the window. I was looking for Vueling, a Spanish airline. The sign said “Gold Star Handling.”

There were about six people in the same boat. “Delayed luggage.” As I arrived an American woman was yelling. An employee immediately shouted, “I’m getting the polizia!” The woman didn’t look very threatening, but this guy wasn’t taking any chances. You’re in their world at the airport. 

In front of me in line was a young Asian couple. They wore surgical masks. I had noticed them on the flight. They had created a little a stir when they didn’t respond to directions to put their luggage in the overhead compartment. They seemed very confused. Even I felt sorry for them. They were stranded in Greece with “delayed luggage.” 

The attitude at “Gold Star Handling” was unbelievable. They acted like it was my fault. The counter was behind protective glass that went from the floor to the ceiling. This was a place of anger and frustration. There was luggage piled up in the back.  

Maybe it was a language thing. It was certainly a cultural thing. A young woman confirmed that yes, my luggage was “delayed.” “What do you want to do?” I kept my cool. Uh. Get my luggage? She barked at me, “You have to fill out a form!” OK. I’ll certainly fill out a form if it will help me get my luggage. I filled out a short form and she said, “Don’t worry. Your luggage has been delayed. It will be delivered to your hotel tomorrow.” That sounded good.   

There were friendly “ambassadors” who wore yellow vests and answered questions. A nice touch. I showed one the address for my hotel. “How much for a taxi to this hotel?” “It depends on the driver.” That didn’t sound good. I looked at the taxi stand. The drivers were slouching around. They didn’t look too friendly. It looked like a scene from an old foreign movie. “Take the bus,” the ambassador said, “It’s two Euro.” 

While I waited for the bus a van driver came up to the line. He offered to take people into Santorini for five Euro a piece, but there had to be five people. It sounded good to me, but no one else wanted to do it. People in line for the bus had different destinations or had some other reason not to take advantage of this offer. I tried to find four more customers for the guy, but then the bus showed up.  

The fare was 1.80 Euro. The area near the airport looked a little Third World. There were abandoned construction sites with piles of trash and litter. It was windy! And dusty. Derelict cars had a layer of dust. One even had “Wash Me” written in the dust. 

The bus swung down closer to the coast. When we went by the sea the beauty of the beaches started to roll out. I realized I was in Greece!   

I got off the bus and walked up to what I thought was the main street of Fira town. I knew the Hotel Kykladonisia was going to be hard to find. On one of the tours someone had commented, “In Santorini, only the locals know where something is.”   

I went into a little grocery store. An old woman in a black dress was behind the counter. I showed her the address to the Kykladonisia.” She made a call on her cell phone and handed it to me. I talked to Pablus. “Do you see the Thirassia Hotel?” It was right up the street. “I’ll meet you there.” This was almost too good to be true. Pablus did meet me there. The Kykladonisia was up winding medieval stone steps. Pablus told me, “I knew you’d never find it.” I knew he was right.   

On the way up the famous Santorini donkeys went past us. The street was narrow and we made way for the beasts of burden. I’m used to scrawny, starving looking mules. These were big, strong animals. There are areas in Santorini where they’re the only form of transport. Pablus gave one a playful pat. I’ll admit they were a bit intimidating for this city boy.  

  Kykladonisia was an “International Settlement.” I’m still not sure exactly what that means. It was more like a motel. The room was all right. It took me a while to figure out how to work the shower. There were no cups of any kind. There was a swimming pool!

I was warned to not throw any paper in the toilet. “Even number two.” I had read about this, but still found it hard to believe. The country that had contributed so much to civilization hadn’t figured out plumbing yet?   

There wasn’t much to unpack. I went out in search of Gyros. Now I really was on the main street. I had thought Santorini would be a sleepy little town. I was surprised how much tourist action there was. There are many more souvenir shops and restaurants than I had expected. 

I stopped at a restaurant that had outdoor tables with a good view of the passing parade. Lado Kolla. The waiter is a bit leery of me. “Just one? Are you waiting for someone?” Uh, no. I don’t find lamb gyros on the menu and ask if they have it. “Greeks don’t eat lamb gyros.” It’s chicken or pork. I went with the pork. 

The owner of the restaurant worked the passing pedestrians. He knew how to greet most of them in a few words of their own language. He did put on a little show. He is definitely leery of me and gives me a funny look. Maybe it’s something that goes back to the Hippie days. My hair is getting a little long.

I went up the real main street to the Orthodox Cathedral. It looked more modern, and it didn’t have the majesty of the big city cathedrals. The interior was darker and full of icons. It did have some of the mystery of the Greek Orthodox churches. 

Behind the Cathedral the street winds around the caldera. A line of restaurants  hugs the cliff on the caldera. They have great views of the large cruise ships floating in the bay below. At the end of the street there was an area with high riding jewelry boutiques. I did a little window shopping.

  The jewelry was impressive. This wasn’t souvenir shop junk. I didn’t see any police or obvious security around. (In downtown San Francisco some jewelry stores have a security guard in front.) Maybe I notice it more now. I do some “inventory control” so I was curious. How do they avoid theft? Tourists crowd the streets. This place could be heaven for pickpockets. They must have a method for keeping them out. Maybe the penalties are more severe.  

The view was especially inspiring for one guy. He was at a table in one of the restaurants with a group of friends. Maybe it was the ouzo. He sang a very loud version of “Please Release Me.” It was a little obnoxious, but he did have a good voice. This guy was a singer! His embarrassed friends tried to discourage him from singing so loud.    

It had been a long day. I walked up the main street towards Kykladonisia. Somehow I missed the sign. I knew I had gone too far uphill. I sat on a stone fence and took a break. When I went back downhill I spotted the sign. 

The sign was below eye level on a stone fence. I still had to wonder how I had missed it.  “Kykladonisia” was in yellow paint with an arrow pointing down the steps. I was very glad to find it.   

The Kykladonisia was pretty basic, but it did have its own charm. There was a little courtyard with some tables and a view of the water far below in the distance. It wasn’t a full moon, but the moon did shine on the water. 

My next door neighbors were a honeymooning couple from Taormina in Sicily. “You’ve probably never heard of it.” Cesar was a nice guy who worked in tech and liked to talk. 

I got ready for the next day, and then had my first real sleep of the trip. I had been waking up after two or three hours of sleep. Unusual for me.

I was already awake when nearby church bells went off at 7 a.m. I could hear school kids gathering for school.  

Wednesday. September 19. 

The next day would be my first tour in Greece: “Sunset in Oia and Traditional Villages.” The departure point was at the Medical Center in old Fira. It was near the bus stop from last night. There were plenty of tour busses around. The guides gathered everybody that was on the tour. Our guide was Demetrius and our bus driver was Hans. The tour would take six hours. 1:40 to 7:40.

Our first stop is in the foothills of Santorini’s highest mountain, Mount Profitias Ilias. We got off the bus for a short look at a Byzantine Church, the Panagia Episkopi. It’s dedicated to the Virgin Mary Panagia. Panagia means “All-Holy.” It’s a Greek Orthodox name for the Virgin Mary. It’s the oldest church on Santorini island. It’s believed that it was “commissioned” by Byzantine Emperor Alexios Komnenos in the 11th century. This puts it in the Middle Byzantine period. Demetrius says this means the land was probably donated to the church by the Emperor.

The church has a picturesque location near Mesa Gonia, “on the foot of the mountain.” It wasn’t a large building. All white with a red tile roof. This is a rural church. It was probably never meant to have a large congregation. In an odd religious twist it also has Roman Catholic services.

I haven’t been inside too many Greek Orthodox churches. They have a different atmosphere. The entrance seemed small. There were no big entry doors. There were no pews. Some icons were on stands. The church’s icon is the Panagia Glykofilousa. The “Sweet Kissing Madonna.” The church draws large crowds for the feast of the Assumption on August 15.

2:35. p.m. We would walk around more at the next stop. Mesa Gonia is “The Ghost Village.” An earthquake in 1956 destroyed most of the village. It struck early in the morning and most of the people were already working in the fields. It was a bad day to call in sick. Most of the people still at home did not survive the quake. Those working in the fields survived. 

Most of the buildings are ruins. It was kind of weird to walk around the winding stone streets, surrounded by the foundations of homes wrecked long over sixty years ago. There has been some rebuilding and occasionally we would see new buildings. Demetrius told us the new homes built among the ruins are now among the most expensive in Greece!

The village of Gonia Mesa was relocated closer to the water and renamed Kamari. Demetrius gathered us together to get back on the bus. “If we leave you behind, we might need the Ghost Busters.” 

The village of Pyrgos winds its way up a steep hill. It’s famous for photos of its blue domed churches that are perched high above the bay below. Most of the white washed buildings have domes. Demetrius explains that the domed roofs helped to handle rain water. It was better for storage. Sometimes rainfall was the only source of fresh water. 

The members of the tour crowded into a small church. The Church of Aghios Nikolaos. It has a rare icon of St. George from the early 15th century.   

We stop at a small plaza and look out over the bay. The Venetian Castle was a refuge from pirates, including Barbarossa! 

There is a stop for the classic view. The clear blue water is below us. We can see terraces up and down the nearby hills. The terraces provide more space for farming on the hills. 

Nearby is the famous Santo Winery. The winery is famous for its Vin de Santo. 

Eucalyptus trees planted in the town were a gift from the Australian government. I wondered if they knew about the problems with eucalyptus. The life expectancy of the tree is one hundred years. The San Francisco Bay area has had problems with aged eucalyptus trees. Falling trees could really cause some damage up here.   

We have forty minutes of free time to wander the village. Which means a shopping opportunity. I wander a little uphill away from the group, but I don’t go far. I don’t want to miss the bus so I start heading downhill. I almost go the wrong way, but I recognize some Germans who had been on the tour with me. They know where they’re going.  

The tour will end in Oia. (Pronounced: EE-ah.) We take Blue Ferry #12. We’ll have three hours on Oia. The tour group goes up to the main plaza for a short talk about the village. Oia was an important port. Sea captains became very rich. They had grand homes and mansions up on the hill. The sailors lived closer to the water in more modest quarters. The volcanic soils produce unique fruits and vegetables. Some of the eggplants are white. We would have forty minutes to walk around the village and see the famous Oia sunset, but don’t forget: “The bus leaves at 8:00!” I had a moussaka in a restaurant with a great view.

Most people headed to an area up on the hill. It was famous for its blue dome churches and the photo op of the spectacular sunset. I took a look. Enough people were headed in that direction that the streets were becoming almost impassable. I headed down the streets and away from the crush. I found a spot near the beach with a great view of the sunset.

I got back to the Kykladonisia and expected to find my delayed luggage. It wasn’t there. Gold Air Handling had not delivered the bag because I wasn’t there. The driver didn’t want to walk down the stone steps to the hotel.  

I called “Gold Air Handling.” It was obviously a call center. Sounded like India. “There was a miscommunication.” The bag might be delivered tomorrow, but the guy was sure to say, “There is no guarantee.”

So, I’m supposed to sit in the hotel all day and maybe the bag will show up. I didn’t come here to sit in my hotel room and wait for my luggage. If I didn’t have a tour planned, I probably would have just hung out. There was a pool at Kykladonisia. It was tempting to take a break and deal with it, but I had the “See Santorini in one day with King Thira” tour the next day. The show must go on!

I bought a hat, shirts and sunscreen. The travel insurance is supposed to cover some incidentals “after twenty four hours.” It was aggravating enough that I vowed to destroy Vueling airlines on every social media site in the world. My one man campaign would alert the world to the evils of this so called airline!

There didn’t seem to be any insects. I didn’t notice this until a mosquito got into my room at the Kykladonisia. I could hear it buzzing around. I couldn’t sleep anyway. So I waited until it landed near me and then I got it! It was a minor victory over aggravation.  

I asked Pablus about my luggage situation. “Does this happen often?” “Four or five times a season.”

A big tourist pastime in Santorini is riding rental scooters and dune buggies. There were a couple of dealers near the Kykladonisia offering rentals. The scooters could be annoying at times on the narrow streets, but they also cut down on car traffic. The dune buggies were more for exploring the coast and beaches. 

I’m sitting at one of the tables in the courtyard area of the Kykladonisia. A friendly  German couple arrive. We talk a little. I mention my delayed luggage problem. Do they have a charger I can use? They even have an adapter I can use! I feel better when the phone is recharged. 

The tour departure point is at the Old Fira Medical Centre. Tour busses are parked there and it’s an obvious tour meeting area, but there’s still a little tension finding the contact. It was the usual story. I spotted two women holding their tour vouchers. Together we found our contact. 

Our guide is Tania. A real piece of work with her own entertaining style. Tania is a native of Santorini and has a dark complexion. She looked in her fifties. I didn’t have the precious voucher for the tour, but Tania did have my name on her list: “Get on the bus!” 

“Ladies and Gentlemen... You will all be my little children today.” She estimates she’s met 250,000 people in her fourteen years as a tour guide! “Look at me!” she would demand when there was a special point to be made.  

  Francisco is our bus driver.

 

Tania tells us that the Spartans were the first to settle the area. Santorini wasn’t always a welcoming, resort area. It was a rugged frontier.  

  Our first stop was the Elias Monastery. Tania gave us the short version of the Prophet Elias story. He was known to be grumpy and God told him to lighten up. Tania points out the Red and White beach far below. “You can go there later.”  

Elias is a “working monastery.” We would not be entering the monastery. There are still monks here. We’re stopping for the view, “This is the highest point on the island.” Others on the tour noticed I wasn’t taking pictures. (I couldn’t charge the phone and was trying to avoid taking pictures so I could call Gold Star Handling later.) I told them my sad “delayed luggage” story. A woman later e-mailed me her pictures from the tour. It was very thoughtful. Travelers do stick together.

We hung out for a while enjoying the view. Tania took pictures. “Are there any honeymooners? I love honeymooners!” She insisted on taking pictures of us with “the best view on Santorini” in the background. Then she warned us, “The last one on the bus has to kiss me as a punishment!” 

Tania had great stories, including the theory that Santorini was the site of Plato’s Atlantis. She talked about appearing in National Geographic twenty years ago, “When I was young and beautiful.”   

We boarded the Thira, a “traditional Greek boat.” We were headed to Pyrgos!  This was a surprise to me. It would be my second visit in two days, but I certainly didn’t mind visiting the Byzantine churches and village again. Especially with Tania. She knew the local shop keepers and bantered with everyone as we went up the winding streets.  

Everyone knows Tania. They all call her Caballo. She said it was the Greek word for mother. It was obvious they appreciated her steering some business their way. Tania introduced us to a woman who took care of the abandoned cats in the town. There is a basket to make donations for cat food.

I got another look inside the Church of Aghios Nikolaos. Twice in two days. We also went into the Church of the Presentation of the Virgin Mary, built in 1660. These churches perched high above the water were amazing and a look at another time.  

We would get a half hour of free time in Pyrgos, but Tania warned us not to miss the boat!

Most buildings were white washed. Tania explained that it helped to keep things bright, especially on moonlit nights. Electricity wasn’t introduced to Pyrgos until the Sixties. The white paint also was antiseptic and kept insects away. More modern, square buildings are being built. There is a concern that the unique look of the small town will be ruined. 

We got back on the boat and went to the volcanic island. Tania asks us, “What is the name of this island? This island has no name.” It was a strange hike to the crater. Volcanic cinders crunched underfoot. The volcano had been billed as “an active volcano” but there didn’t seem to be much going on geologically. The real attraction is the view of the rest of the caldera. 

Tania wasn’t all comedy. She talked about the geology of the area. She is very knowledgeable. Maybe that comes with the territory here.   

  There was a stream of tourist groups headed up to the crater. It took some doing for Tania to keep our group together. She would stand on a high rock and get our attention. “Right here! The most romantic tour group in the universe! Meet right here!” Tania had been clear. If we did get separated from the boat on the island, “Meet at the boat!”   

We sailed by Hot Springs that had “green sulphur waters.” The water looked clean, but it had an odd, almost surreal green tinge. Tania made sure we noticed the island that was shaped like a crocodile, the Rock of Skaras. 

  

We docked at Thirassia Island. We could walk up the “winding steps” to Manalos, but I decide to stay by the water and eat at one of the local restaurants: Cadonni. Most of the tables were near the water and covered by a thatched roof. I had the Mixed Fish Souvlaki, which was heavy on very fresh calamari and octopi.   

The small town near the water was Thirassia. It looked worn down. There were old white cottages near the shore and fragile looking wind mills. The wind mills make the town look ancient. Some of the cottages looked inhabited. Most of them had strings of twisting barbed wire to keep people off the short front steps. I watched an old woman carefully open a gate and make her way through the wire.  

   

The tour was going to go on to Oia, but I had the choice of going back to Fira town. I had seen the famous sunset last night, and I didn’t want to deal with the crowds in Oia again. I also wanted to check on the luggage situation.

Tania acts surprised when I tip her. “I didn’t do anything for you. You should have seen me dancing naked on the bar fourteen years ago!” Yeah. I wish I had seen that! 

Was the luggage there? No. It’s getting beyond aggravation. I call Gold Star Handling, and the situation just gets more byzantine. I can’t use the phone at the Kykladonisia front desk  because it’s an international call. Pablus is apologetic, but says, “My boss won’t let me.” Pablus explains that Gold Air Handling won’t call my cell phone because it’s an international number and it will cost them an extra charge. 

I call Gold Air Handling again. My phone is running low. The charger is in my luggage. I’m told my luggage should be delivered tomorrow, but he’s careful to mention again that, “There is no guarantee.” He says if it doesn’t arrive tomorrow they will ship the bag to Mykonos. (How are they not going to screw that up?) My phone runs out while I’m talking to him. 

I get the phone recharged again at a Vodaphone shop in Fira. There is no charge and the young lady wouldn’t even take a small tip! 

  I had assumed my luggage was at the airport. I’ll just go out there and get it, but I called first. Good thing. The luggage isn’t there. It’s at some Gold Star Handling warehouse waiting to be delivered to me. Maybe. “There are no guarantees.”

I go to get a gyros. This is more of a fast food place, but I want something quick. The grizzled Greek behind the counter looks and acts like the owner. “Where are you from?” San Francisco usually gets a positive reaction. I can tell the guy is sizing me up. He asks me, “Let me ask you something about San Francisco... Is it true that a man can marry a man there?” I admit that it is legal. “And is it true that a woman can marry a woman?” This seems even more puzzling to him. Yes, it is true. I sense that this is not the time for political correctness. I’m not in Oz. I leave a tip. He comes over the the table and gives me a bottled water on the house. Guess I’m OK.   

    

  The next morning. It’s decision time. I consider the options. I ask Pablus if there is a room available for another night and how much would it be? There is a room available “right now” for sixty Euros. I could stay one more night and hang out at the hotel to try and get the luggage. It means I’ll miss “The South Coast Cruise” on Mykonos. I wouldn’t mind another day in Santorini, but I figure screw it. Just keep going!  

If the luggage doesn’t arrive I’ll buy some more essentials. I have a hunch I should just get to Mykonos and stay on track. It was on to Mykonos! 

I’m about to leave and Pablus says I have a phone call. “Gold Air Handling” calls me on the Kykladonisia phone to save themselves any international charge. The bag is at the airport. I’m leaving anyway so I take the bus to the airport to get my precious Rick Steves bag. 

It’s back to the third world airport. There are lines waiting to go through security. It looks chaotic. People in line look stressed. Security guards are quick to tell me to get in line. “I’m here to pick up lost luggage.” It looked like they’d heard that one before. A female Ambassador guides me through the line. Scrambling passengers give me a jealous look.   

I’m back at the Gold Star Handling booth where it all started. The same young woman is there. She is standing in the background while another woman takes care of me. I spot a Rick Steves bag. The woman at the counter is apologetic. I’ve got my bag, so I don’t want to make a scene, but I do calmly let her know, “It’s no good.” She seems surprised. I take a thirty five Euro taxi to New Port.