You’ve probably heard about Santorini. It’s rated as one of the top Greek islands to visit and everyone talks about how omg amazing it is and if you only go to one island you should go there.
The people who say this are liars.
Listen to mama Brenda on this one—if you go to Santorini, go there for a day, maybe two, and go there before you go to any of the other islands. Otherwise, you will be seriously disappointed.
Naxos and Ios absolutely spoiled me. There were few tourists and the people who lived there seemed genuine and friendly. People will tell you that the beaches in Santorini are beautiful. I will tell you that the beach in Ios is a hundred times more beautiful, more peaceful, and better to lounge on. People will tell you that there are interesting museums and historical sites. I will tell you that the museums in Naxos are just as lovely and the historical sites are gorgeous and more easily accessible. (One of the major sites in Santorini isn’t even open.) People will tell you that the shopping in Santorini is amazing.
This is true. Because that is mostly what the major towns in Santorini are—hot, crowded pedestrian shopping malls full of people who see you as little more than a walking Euro.
Go to Santorini for a day or two. See the ridiculously gorgeous sunset (because it is, admittedly, ridiculously gorgeous). And then move on, my friend.
Granted, the circumstances of my arrival in Santorini weren’t exactly wonderful. By the time we got to Santorini, I was entirely, completely, unquestionably miserable. My rash had come back in full force, covering most of my right arm, the back of my left hand, my chest, and the tops of my feet. For some reason, my feet were the greatest insult. What kind of self-respecting rash spreads to the tops of someone’s feet? We were picked up at the port by Stelio, the owner of our hostel. There were some tourists from Australia in the van with us, which was our first warning sign of how busy Santorini was going to be. They were nice people and Britt chatted with them, but I was feeling like a very miserable and very irritable Quasimodo and mostly stared out the window.
We were staying at Perissa, which is mainly a tourist area created for the lovely beach. The town actually reminded me a lot of where my grandparents lived in Southern Utah, which was also a tourist town. I didn’t really mind it. It was easy to walk from our hostel to the beach and there were quite a few restaurants around. When we got to our hostel, I went to talk with the owner to see if there was a doctor I could see about my rash. The owner’s wife and an old woman (either her mother or Stelio’s mother, I assume) clucked over me for a bit, looking at my rash and discussing between themselves in Greek. They determined, from what I could gather from the game of charades they were playing, that it was the sun that wasn’t getting along with my skin. The owner’s wife recommended a dermatologist in Fira, the main town, and told me that his office would be opening at 6 p.m. Those Greeks and their odd hours of operation, I’m telling you. This left several hours, which I spent finding something to eat (low blood sugar does not help anything) and furiously washing my clothes with a bar of soap in the sink. Poor Britt mostly just stayed out of my way.
When the time came, we took the bus to Fira and located the dermatologist’s office. There was no receptionist, no need for an appointment. When he finished with his patient, he came out into the tiny lobby and asked me what was wrong—first in Greek, then, thankfully, in English. My response was a croaked “I need help.” Could I have sounded more pathetic? Possibly, if I tried really, really hard.
The doctor was a round-bellied middle-aged man wearing a t-shirt and sporting a very large gray beard. Not exactly what I was expecting, but he was very, very kind to me and I am so very glad I met him. He led us back into his office (Britt came with me, of course) and we started chatting. He’d just returned from vacation to Maine, which he had absolutely loved. He talked about how amazing it was that you could walk out onto the beach and dig up lamps to eat.
“Clams?” Britt clarified.
“YES! Clams!”
After discussing Maine for a little longer, he started asking questions about my rash. He asked me some questions, then he asked Britt what she had observed. Then he led me over to a chair with a big, extendable-armed magnifying glass and looked at my rash for a bit. It was definitely from the sun-- an allergy. He showed me how he knew and showed me what direction the sun had been coming from that morning in order to give me my particular pattern.
Let me reiterate here: I am allergic to the sun. What kind of person develops a sun allergy? Oh, right... vampire people. And, like... sickly waifs like Colin from The Secret Garden. Apparently it's not uncommon for fair-skinned people visiting Greece, but still I felt like kind of a weirdo.
Anyway, very nice doctor man gave me a prescription for a cream and a special kind of sun block and told me to come back in a few days, free of charge, for a checkup.
Bless him.
We got my prescription and wandered around Fira for a while as we waited for the return bus to arrive. That’s when we saw our first Santorini sunset.
See? Ridiculously beautiful. So Santorini’s not all bad.
Most of the stay in Santorini can pretty much be summed up as follows:
The people who say this are liars.
Listen to mama Brenda on this one—if you go to Santorini, go there for a day, maybe two, and go there before you go to any of the other islands. Otherwise, you will be seriously disappointed.
Naxos and Ios absolutely spoiled me. There were few tourists and the people who lived there seemed genuine and friendly. People will tell you that the beaches in Santorini are beautiful. I will tell you that the beach in Ios is a hundred times more beautiful, more peaceful, and better to lounge on. People will tell you that there are interesting museums and historical sites. I will tell you that the museums in Naxos are just as lovely and the historical sites are gorgeous and more easily accessible. (One of the major sites in Santorini isn’t even open.) People will tell you that the shopping in Santorini is amazing.
This is true. Because that is mostly what the major towns in Santorini are—hot, crowded pedestrian shopping malls full of people who see you as little more than a walking Euro.
Go to Santorini for a day or two. See the ridiculously gorgeous sunset (because it is, admittedly, ridiculously gorgeous). And then move on, my friend.
Granted, the circumstances of my arrival in Santorini weren’t exactly wonderful. By the time we got to Santorini, I was entirely, completely, unquestionably miserable. My rash had come back in full force, covering most of my right arm, the back of my left hand, my chest, and the tops of my feet. For some reason, my feet were the greatest insult. What kind of self-respecting rash spreads to the tops of someone’s feet? We were picked up at the port by Stelio, the owner of our hostel. There were some tourists from Australia in the van with us, which was our first warning sign of how busy Santorini was going to be. They were nice people and Britt chatted with them, but I was feeling like a very miserable and very irritable Quasimodo and mostly stared out the window.
We were staying at Perissa, which is mainly a tourist area created for the lovely beach. The town actually reminded me a lot of where my grandparents lived in Southern Utah, which was also a tourist town. I didn’t really mind it. It was easy to walk from our hostel to the beach and there were quite a few restaurants around. When we got to our hostel, I went to talk with the owner to see if there was a doctor I could see about my rash. The owner’s wife and an old woman (either her mother or Stelio’s mother, I assume) clucked over me for a bit, looking at my rash and discussing between themselves in Greek. They determined, from what I could gather from the game of charades they were playing, that it was the sun that wasn’t getting along with my skin. The owner’s wife recommended a dermatologist in Fira, the main town, and told me that his office would be opening at 6 p.m. Those Greeks and their odd hours of operation, I’m telling you. This left several hours, which I spent finding something to eat (low blood sugar does not help anything) and furiously washing my clothes with a bar of soap in the sink. Poor Britt mostly just stayed out of my way.
When the time came, we took the bus to Fira and located the dermatologist’s office. There was no receptionist, no need for an appointment. When he finished with his patient, he came out into the tiny lobby and asked me what was wrong—first in Greek, then, thankfully, in English. My response was a croaked “I need help.” Could I have sounded more pathetic? Possibly, if I tried really, really hard.
The doctor was a round-bellied middle-aged man wearing a t-shirt and sporting a very large gray beard. Not exactly what I was expecting, but he was very, very kind to me and I am so very glad I met him. He led us back into his office (Britt came with me, of course) and we started chatting. He’d just returned from vacation to Maine, which he had absolutely loved. He talked about how amazing it was that you could walk out onto the beach and dig up lamps to eat.
“Clams?” Britt clarified.
“YES! Clams!”
After discussing Maine for a little longer, he started asking questions about my rash. He asked me some questions, then he asked Britt what she had observed. Then he led me over to a chair with a big, extendable-armed magnifying glass and looked at my rash for a bit. It was definitely from the sun-- an allergy. He showed me how he knew and showed me what direction the sun had been coming from that morning in order to give me my particular pattern.
Let me reiterate here: I am allergic to the sun. What kind of person develops a sun allergy? Oh, right... vampire people. And, like... sickly waifs like Colin from The Secret Garden. Apparently it's not uncommon for fair-skinned people visiting Greece, but still I felt like kind of a weirdo.
Anyway, very nice doctor man gave me a prescription for a cream and a special kind of sun block and told me to come back in a few days, free of charge, for a checkup.
Bless him.
We got my prescription and wandered around Fira for a while as we waited for the return bus to arrive. That’s when we saw our first Santorini sunset.
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| by Britt |
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| by Britt |
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| by Britt |
See? Ridiculously beautiful. So Santorini’s not all bad.
Most of the stay in Santorini can pretty much be summed up as follows:
- The beach is very pretty and also very hot because the sand is black.
- I hiked a volcano, but only halfway because I am a vampire.
- A lizard crawled up my leg.
- We went to museums.
- We got ignored at restaurants a lot.
- We had a nightly mosquito hunt so poor Britt didn't get eaten alive.
- We went grocery shopping and had to buy things based mainly off of pictures and what items appeared to be most popular.
- I read three and a half books. That is how exciting Santorini was.
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