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Santorini's a tender port, which means we have to be shuttled in on tenders. We waited until the rush of people on tours were off the ship and access to the boats was suitably declogged.
So there we are, leisurely preparing to board the tender, when some tall pushy guy shoves in front of Emma to be the first one on. Then waits ten minutes with the rest of us until the tender fills up.
At the other end he once again elbows his way to the front, because heaven forbid he isn't the first person ashore.
Whatever. Enjoy your coronary, mate.
There are three ways up to the town of Fira: up a 588 step stairwell on foot, up the same stairs on the back of a donkey, or via a cable car. Guess which one we took?
The cable car's awesome. There are four independent gondolas, which don't quite clear the retaining wall above the port side station, so the owners simply knocked holes in the wall with a sledge hammer. A highly refined solution.
Once at the top we went to the bus station to catch the bus to Oia, which we'd heard is the prettiest of the towns. The guy at the bus terminal was worse than useless at giving any information on precisely where to catch the bus, or when it was due. His answer to every question was "it's coming", after which he'd return to filling in forms.
Rather than waste time waiting for a bus we opted to take a taxi. Excellent decision.
Our driver, Nick, was gold. He gave us an impromptu 20 minute tour of the island, driving us to lookouts, discussing the geology of the island, explaining the history, and all-included in the price to take us to Oia. He even initially refused the tip we offered.
Oia itself is gorgeous. We started by having coffee and snacks in a cafe overlooking the water, then spent several hours just wanderiing the streets, taking in the views, and soaking up the awesome.**
Like so many experiences, it's very hard to capture in words. But we totally loved the place.
It's not just the buildings. The people are gorgeous. Every shop we went into seemed to be staffed by fashion models. Emma's theory is ugly people are banned from the island.
The shopkeepers are the polar opposite of Kusadasi. Easy-going, no pressure, polite, and as a result we actually spent money with them. Badgering merchants take note.
Emma stopped into a hairdresser to see if she could buy some shampoo, and asked the woman, "do you speak English?"
"Yeah, I do mate," she answered. Greek girl from Melbourne, now living in Santorini. Of course.
I can see the appeal. It's stunning, and Emma and I could come back here for a week or two. But during the off season, when prices are about 1/10th of what they are in peak.
The taxi ride back to Fira was a different sort of experience than the one up. Less of a tour, more of a high speed death ride. Fortunately it was all over in about five minutes.
Emma and I took the stairs down. Much easier than going up, although we did have to dodge a day's worth of donkey poo. The views were fantastic, at least during the brief periods we lifted our heads from the path in poo-light stretches of the path, and it was good to get some exercise after all the eating and drinking of the past few weeks.
We did the sail-out on the balcony, the sun going down just before we set off, finishing off our bottle of red as we sailed past the lights of the island. Very pretty.
After dinner we did another movie on the top deck. This time I persuaded the others to join me for The Lone Ranger. Meh. A few good moments but overall too long, too slow, and it's a bad sign when the best characters in a film are a horse and a dead bird.
But even the Loan Ranger wasn't bad enough to ruin what was one of the best days of the trip.
* The volcano blowing up again would qualify. The first time it went up it wiped out Minoan civilisation across the Mediterranean.
** And stopped in a few jewellery shops. Of course.
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