On a balmy summer night, we are sitting on the balcony of our Oia vacation house, nibbling on pita, grilled meats, and a Greek salad — the first of many Greek meals to come. Our plane landed in Santorini just a couple of hours ago. Settled in our cute cave house, we’re ready to soak in the beautiful surroundings.
A couple of months ago, you helped pick this adorable cave house out of the dozen options I presented you. We both love the traditional Cycladic style — half-cylindrical roof, chalk-white walls with splashes of bright blue. The best part of the house is when you step out on the terrace — the most resplendent sunset views against the ancient windmills over the sparkling sea.
Santorini is one of those places that you build up in your mind as being nothing short of magical. It’s plastered on glossy mags, on every list of “most beautiful” this and that, and airbrushed to perfection on instagram. The other day I saw you show your brother an instagram picture of breakfast over the caldera view, “Lucas, this could be us!”
Technically, you’ve been here. Daddy and I had our babymoon here when I was 5 months pregnant with you. Santorini was already becoming popular back then. But 16 years ago, there were no over-photoshopped pictures / no instagram / no social media. I fear Santorini has been varnished to a very high gloss, and instagram might have ruined it for you.
But here we are, sitting and taking in the quiet air and mesmerizing beauty of the caldera. I wonder if Santorini lives up to your expectations. Or will you find it overrated? Even its so-called “most beautiful sunset of the world” underwhelming in reality?
And now we watch the drama unfold. As the sun dips lower, ribbons of color — pink, crimson, yellow, orange, purple — dance across the sky. And then the golden sun gets caught in the giant pinwheel of the windmill! An Old Testament verse comes to mind: A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in a silver basket.
Finally, the orange orb slides behind the horizon, draping the caldera in a shimmery twilight.
We put our dinner away and head for the crumbling fortress at the edge of town.
Meandering up and down on the cobbled streets, I find Oia even more picturesque than I remember. Stretched before us is an expansive bay framed by dark volcanic cliffs. Large clusters of pristine white houses cling to the cliffs. From a distance, they look like snow-capped mountains. Blue domed churches and windmills with pointy thatched roofs punctuate the skyline. Far below, a few lonely sailboats head for the harbor.
We arrive at the ruined castle. Across the bay, the cliffhanging whitewashed buildings look like hundreds of sugar cubes that have frozen while tumbling down the bluff’s edge. I point out our babymoon hotel to you and your brother. I remember the pool, the patio, the donkey that carried our luggage to the hotel; and along with that, the joy and excitement when I felt your kicks and moves. How would I have ever dreamt that you’d become such a gorgeous, sweet, cheerful young lady? The loveliest person, the kindest soul. Your eyes are transfixed by the spectacular painting in front of us, the brilliant white and blue against a kaleidoscope of pink and orange in the sky. As dusk settles over town, one by one, like fireflies, lights begin to twinkle, and soft, warm rays emanate from the creamy walls. The houses begin to glow like illuminated facets of a prism. The entire setting is impossibly dreamy. An immense sense of peace and serenity overcomes my spirit.
“Wow,” says your bother.
“Wow,” you say.
“Wow,” we say together.
“It’s even more beautiful than the pictures,” you say.
I’m thankful for the miracles of the world, for the blessings of being here, for our shared version of Santorini. It’s serene, intimate, respectful, and soulful.
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