Under the Volcano
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Santorini,
Cyclades,
Greece
Friday, May 16, 2008
Greeted at the Mill Houses with a glass of champagne with Chris Rea's "Down on the Beach" on the sound system, an eclectic choice. Dusk over the crater, the horizon a watercolor transition between sea and sky.
The main product of Greece is -- Greece. Roughly 60% of the economy is fueled by tourism and it has never been so evident so far as it is here. Re-development started some time ago. Sometime between 1647 and 1648 BC, Thia blew up, wiping out the Minoans here and shattering settlements across the Aegean. Tidal waves decimated Crete. Fast forward through Greek, Roman, Ottoman, Nazi, and Greek occupation to an earthquake in 1956 that took out a significant chunk of what was left.
At some point in the '60s, the cliff-side town of Fira began it's transformation from Greek village to Disney theme park. As far as I can tell, there are no houses in Fira. Only a patchwork of hotels vying for a chunk of the tourist trade. The clinically white buildings are not an artifact of tradition, but commercial design. I passed a passel of whitewashers on the streets maintaining the look. There are no "villagers" in Fira. Only shopkeepers. And the streets are swollen with baseball-capped visitors from all four quarters of the earth.
I hasten to add that this takes nothing away from the astonishing beauty of this place. Disney could never come this close to perfection. Each turn in the narrow streets begs the camera. And each turn in the streets has a dozen people yanking out their cameras to prove it.
The Old Town, like its namesake in Athens, is just a hive of tourist shops. So many, they blur, and anyone counting on a souvenir from me should give that up right now.
The hotel has no laundry service and I schlep mine to a place near the square called We Do Laundry. And they do that. Spend the rest of the day walking the crown of the caldera from Fira north. Both sides of the island are visible from the path. When things get hot in the sun, I pull in to the nearest cafe and down a beer.
You have seen pictures of Santorini if you have ever seen an ad for Greece. It's the country's poster child. But I somehow feel less inclined to explore its 40km than I did on Chios. I would rather just find a table, sip and read. That may change, but the sea of fannypackers that swarm the streets, delivered daily from the launches of the cruise ships anchored in the harbor take some of the fun out of wandering the streets. I'd say the average age here as a result is pushing the upper 50s to late 60s (FYI to my younger amigos and amigas). Sometimes I want to just find an obscure corner and climb into my book. I bought a big bottle of the island ouzo and tucked it in the freezer as an insurance policy.
Okay, proofing this passage it sounds deadly. It's not. It's 100% gorgeous. This view cannot be trumped. But it verges on Orlando and Vegas in ways I don't care for. Especially compared to Pelion and Chios.
And I would be negligent if I didn't point out a curious corollary to the abundant luxury. To put it as delicately as possible, what might you imagine becomes of sewage from a town sprawled across a frighteningly steep cliff, hundreds of meters above the sea? Relax. Armies of honey wagons struggle through the maze of streets to pump the day's deposits. But even at the most luxurious of accommodations, signs in the WCs forbid adding used toilet paper to the toilets. Waste cans are conveniently stationed next to the thrones for that purpose. Takes a little getting used to.
Now that it's cool to torture people in the USA (or DHL suspects to countries who can do it better). Now that America leads the world in the percentage of population who thinks evolution is a funny mistake. Now that the USA is happy to watch the dollar go pearl diving for the amusement of the euro. It's gratifying to know that when it comes to the percentage of our population that's in prison and the quality of our plumbing, the USA is still #1. Whoo Hoo!!
