Santorini is the after effect of the biggest volcanic eruption in recorded history. The huge blast blew out a volcanic ring 18 km wide, now erroded in many places to form the cyclades, round a vast, deep sea-filled caldera. Our hotel is built down the nearly vertical side of the ring, and in common with all other hotels in this part of the island, the rooms are cave-like holes drilled into the rock, lit by windows facing the caldera. The town above, Oia, is a single narrow road that peters out to a footpath paved with marble slabs and lined with beatifully clean pristine shops, that still seem untouched at the end of the season, through lack of visitors. Everywhere is quiet, the many restaurants and bars mostly empty. The locals are delighted to get our custom, and cheered when they heard on the BBC news that the Cyclades had been removed from the British quarantine list.
The steps up to the town from the hotel rooms are steep and irregular, cut into the side of the cliff face. The porters run up and down carrying suitcases, or heavy industrial cleaners, or even one with a fridge balanced on his shoulder to replace some failed appliance. But we find the steps hard going, with me gasping for breath and having to pause regularly, and Ann struggling with her broken foot. We have bought her a walking stick to help her balance and footing. We did not chose this hotel, having selected one further round near a beach, but it closed early and BA transferred us without giving choice. We manage by limiting our trips to town, and timing them carefully.
Glad to see you are keeping up with holiday tradition with having a glass of wine!
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