Perceptions have a lot to explain. They can blind us to what is really going on, and make idiots in the process.
I had little interest in visiting Santorini. The idea of competing for space with thousands of cruise passengers and paying a lot of money for a glass of mediocre Greek wine in a sunset bar colonized by influencers and selfie addicts never appealed to me.
But then a friend, who had just returned from this famous volcanic island, said I was short-sighted. Out of touch with reality, even.
She had a point. Avoid July and August, of course, when as many as 10,000 day trippers crowd the place and clog the narrow streets (there are only 15,000 permanent residents). But to ignore Santorini altogether is a dereliction of duty for anyone interested in travel.
This is an enchanting island, with much more to offer than I had imagined. I tried to explain this to Andreas Makaris, a 73-year-old master potter, but he spoke no English. It didn’t matter.
Mark Palmer travels to Santorini, where he settles on the edge of Oia, the ‘whitewashed town where hotels, restaurants and villas cling to the edge of the caldera’
“To drop Santorini altogether is a dereliction of duty for anyone interested in travel,” says Mark. Above – the streets of Oia
Andreas and his wife teach pottery in the south of Santorini, where they have lived for forty years. Words were not necessary as he guided my fingers and thumbs over the wet clay in an attempt to make a small coffee mug.
“We’ll send it to you in the mail in three months,” his wife said.
I found this long delay oddly uplifting – a different attitude to time is one of the joys of breaking away from our everyday lives.
Also uplifting was the hour we spent visiting the archaeological site of Akrotiri, not far from Andreas’ studio. To my shame I had never heard of it, but this discovery of a 4,000 year old Minoan settlement buried under lava after the volcanic eruption 3,600 years ago that created Santorini as we know it today is big news.
The reputation of Santorini’s wine is also growing, with no fewer than 18 vineyards, some producing just a few hundred bottles a year, mainly from the assyrtiko grape. These bottles are all sold locally.
I loved how our waiter, as he was about to uncork our bottle of wine at the fantastic hilltop restaurant Metaxi Mas, pointed out the winery in the valley where the wine came from.
Overlooked Treasures: Mark stays at Canaves Epitome. Each of the 53 suites and villas has its own plunge pool (above)
Mark says of Canaves Epitome: ‘There is a welcome sense of space. Smart young people from Athens and Thessalonica make up the staff.’ Above – one of the hotel’s bedrooms
I also wasn’t prepared for the beaches. The black sand may put some people off, but the water is wonderfully fresh and clear. There are taverna-lined beaches, if that’s your thing, or just clamber over the rocks and find a suitable spot to jump into.
I did this on our first day, but had trouble getting out, so had to swim into the small harbor at Ammoudi Bay and clamber out in full view of the early guests. I may have put them off their calamari.
We stayed at Canaves Epitome on the edge of Oia, the whitewashed town where hotels, restaurants and villas cling to the edge of the caldera. Epitome is the latest offering in the family-run Canaves collection.
This does not hold on to the edge of the crater. Instead, there is a welcome sense of space, with each of the 53 suites and villas featuring their own plunge pools and landscaping of the highest caliber. Smart young people from Athens and Thessalonika make up the staff – all very committed and super efficient.
“This is an enchanting island, with much more to offer than I imagined,” Mark writes. Above – The harbor of Ammoudi Bay
Mark spends an ‘uplifting’ hour exploring the archaeological site at Akrotiri
Hands on: Mark makes a coffee mug with master potter Andreas Makaris
We ate spectacularly well in both hotel restaurants; the tzatziki at the more casual Omnia belongs to a different planet from anything you’ll find at your local Waitrose.
Epitome takes guests wherever they want to go with the help of a WhatsApp group. One evening we got a lift to Oia, where we settled into the Canaves Sunday hotel for the daily ritual of watching the sunset, followed by a pilgrimage along the main shopping street. “It rarely rains in Santorini and when it does rain, only for ten minutes,” we were told by a shopkeeper.
The next day it rained heavily from early morning to early evening, but we still took the water taxi around the bay to the Armeni restaurant. Then it was a matter of choosing our fish from a huge box that lined the round tables like a meat cart.
We opted for the sole, cooked in olive oil and lemon, which was surprisingly cheap. Sometimes the white villages of Santorini – together with the 500 or so churches and chapels – look like snow-capped mountains. And I hadn’t realized that there are actually five islands in this archipelago, including the volcano that gave birth to Santorini thousands of years ago.
During the three days I was happy to distance myself from my ideas about this Greek outpost – and also a little ashamed of it.
