The Volcanic trek and the Oia sunset
Trip Start
Apr 12, 2006
1
43
115
Trip End
Ongoing
Santorini, Greece
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
The Gyros here are bloody superb - smaller and fresher than the greasy, enormous souvlakis back home, often made with pork instead of the usual chicken or lamb, and to maximise the fat count they're jammed with fried chips. They hit the spot perfectly every time and are exactly the right size to make you think you need another one straight away. Gyros #1 for the day was consumed at Edi's cafe, for breakfast i should add, before we took the local bus down to the nearby town of Kamari, to one of Santorini's infamous 'black sand' beaches. Let me tell you, black sand on a beach sounds a whole lot more exotic in the 'Lonely Planet' than in real life. As if golden sand on a hot day wasn't heel-searingly boiling enough, black, rocky sand minus the degree of heat reflection found in golden sand, was more akin to walking across hot coals with burning embers. As well as this, Edi the cafe man had sealed our decision to go to Kamari by assuring us that the beach would be brimming with scantily clad, nubile women galavanting about the water in a promiscuous, carefree fashion. While there was some degree of nudism on the beach, it seemed we'd rocked up on '50+ British mothers whose bits have been hard done by gravity' day, hardly the swarm of toothsome strumps that we had initially anticipated. However, the beach itself was nothing to complain about, and paddling around in the water with ancient volcanic hills just metres away in the distance, it was pretty fantastic. We threw down Gyros #2 for the day right after the beach excursion, depositing another round of fat on my gut, before scooting back home to Fira and chilling briefly by the pool. It's a tough life sometimes.
I must say, getting by with the English language around Greece and its many islands has been nothing short of a breeze. Of all the countries we've visited, the Greeks have been the most proficient with their Ingles, which has saved us a whole lot of trouble and mental stress trying to decipher Modern Greek. Spanish and Italian are at least based on Roman Latin, so a lot of words are somewhat close to their English counterparts, and you can sort of get by okay. The Greeks have got all sorts of crazy jive goin on - Betas and Lambdas and Alphas and all those freaky symbols that used to scare the bejeezus out of me back in Year 10 Maths Methods class. I totally empathise with the person who first coined the phrase 'its all Greek to me'. It was definitely all Greek to us.
In the glorious, baking mid afternoon, the three of us put our walking boots on and took to the high crest of the volcano with the intention of trekking three hours from Fira to Oia, another cliff-side town on the tip of the island. Ois is the place to be for an awe-inspiring sunset, so we were told, and what better way to get there than on foot across an unbelievably scenic volcanic crest, taking in the full beauty of this unique, half submerged island. The trek was magnificent in itself. At one stage we sat on a clifftop ledge and just sat for ages, the three of us completely silent in the absolute silence surrounding us, taking in the surreal vista of the submberged caldera nearby and the haze-sheened neighbouring islands in the distance. With the afternoon sun radiating across its surface, the water looked like silk. Three travellers sitting equal distance apart, nothing but silence in our ears, and sheer beauty before our eyes. It was a spiritual moment.
Arriving in Oia around an hour prior to the sunset, we found another Gyros merchant and wolfed down yet another bloody Gyros, number three and the tastiest for the day. Dear God they are good. Perched on a white, curved Greek roof at the edge of the lookout point on the very tip of Oia, Brooks, The Rev and I sat and took in the full magnificence of a setting Greek Island sun. As the great orb of gas turned a deep, rich pink, the sky followed suit and transformed into a technicolour canvas, with jet contrails lingering in all directions. It was the height of romance, and once again i was stuck with two blokes. Story of my life. Anyway, the sun did its thing, and it was pretty amazing to see. However, i don't care how remarkable a sunset it, i don't feel it deserves a round of rapturous applause, which is what the ledge full of tour groups lined up behind us did as the sun sailed below the horizon, their multitide of digicams flashing wildy. The sunset is a natural occurrence, it's always there, and it aint coming back for a curtain call and an encore number. Give the clapping a rest, you geese.
We leapt on the bus back to Fira and hit the main drag for a healthy nightcap of Gyros (the 4th and final Gyros for today's impressive tally). Seven Gyros in two days cannot be healthy in any circumstance. Checked our resepctive emails at the local netcafe, and laughed when a Greek version of Farnesy's 'Your're the Voice' came on the stereo, potentially the most uninspiring version of this song ever conceived. Taking the 'splay as much tacky crap across the walls and ceiling of your pub as possible' angle of bar refurbishment, 'Murphy's Bar' endured our patronage at nightfall, but we deemed it a dive 30 minutes after arrival, though the blatant brutality of a Canadian ice hockey match on cable held our attention for a fair while. Having withdrawls from our post-dinner Italian gelato, i settled for a Magnum instead, followed by a walk back to the hotel and bed. Good work Santorini. Good times.
