Our story
Yrs trly arrives at 1:30am on a strange island with a strange language. He dreads the ordeal of several hours climb on a cold windy night, up to the only town likely to have accomodations at this time of night in winter, for winter is a time of hibernation on a major tourist island.

He is spared the ordeal when a fellow passenger asks "Do you need a room? My family owns a hotel etc." Is the bear catholic? Does a pope poop in the woods? Her price is cheap. To her relief and mine, her car starts.

Strange Land
defaultaltpool terrace, beachfront bldgs in distance
I wake the next noon or so in a nice enough motel in a land that looks remarkably like the Mojave desert, only with more and prettier houses, few of them nearby. No sign of my benefactor, Katya, to whom I had given 2 nights rent, leaving me with €5 and not a clue where to find an ATM on Sunday. Or a store for that matter.

 By this time, I have decided that Katya is definitely a bullshitter and possibly a nut case, which just means that she bullshits herself too. But she has delivered the cheap digs, though I cant rule out the possiblity she is faking it with somebody else's property, unoccupied for the winter. Not my problem. My problem: find money and a store to buy food. 
  

Later: I still think Katya is nuts, but  she did show up later, sweep the dirt off my balcony, try real hard to persuade me to rent a car, foist (successfully) a glass of her father's home-made olive oil on me in case I cook, offer me a cup of coffee, which she then charged me €2 for... The nut case is harmless, and goodness knows she has been helpful.  She even claims to have rooms in the main town, Firá, which she'll rent me at the same cheap rate.

white house, blue trim, dark pumice rock decorarched front gateway
Destination: the largest cluster of buildings I can see from my balcony.

Mission: food, and an ATM to pay for it.

My side road tees into a larger road, where signs tell me that to the left my  destination is Emporio, the smaller beach town to the right is Perissa, and behind me is Perivolos beach.

So I hope to be shopping in Emporio! Y'know what? The name bodes well.

There is a supermarket open on the near skirts of town. Now I just need an ATM. Further into town, a sign says Post Office and points up a side street. In some countries post offices have ATMs, so I take the side street. The (closed on Sunday) P.O. has no ATM. I push on uphill and stumble into wonderland.
 
Palia Poli (Old Town)
mabled-looking street, round-cornered bldgs, off-white wall with decorative stonesdefaultalt
Like Adriatic towns, Aegean ones have an ancient city at their heart. There the similarity ends. What a lovingly, expressively human place.

I wonder whether the modernist architect Gaudi ever visited the Aegean. defaultaltdefaultaltGaudi was dedicated to humanizing the industrial architecture of the twentieth century. One of his principles was no straight lines. Another was unexpected detail, for beauty or surprise alone, just to express human quirkiness.
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This stuff enchants me. Before I am done with Greece, you may get very tired of these kinds of images. If so, you are free to skip them. I am a complete sucker for this stuff.

Hmm... ever see the movie The Five Thousand Fingers Of Doctor T?
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When I finally left the old town, there was my ATM on the very corner where I emerged on to the main street. The staff back at the supermarket found a clerk who spoke enough english to be very helpful, though I had asked for no such thing, and was prepared to pay the price of my linguistic ignorance.


Next Day: Perivolos Beach and Perissa
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My guidebook talks about the black sand beaches of eastern Santorini as if the remarkable thing is that they are black. This is the Mediterranean, people! The remarkable thing is that they are sand. The first real sand beach I have seen in the Med. (There are supposed to be some in Montenegro between Budva and Sv. Stefan)
defaultaltdefaultaltBar with rubble stored on arouind the main room.defaultalt
From all the boarded up bars and accomodations, this must be a jumping place in summer. In winter it is a ghost town worthy of its look-a-like the Mojave.

Perissa does have a single open business: a 24-hour (and apparently 365-day) bakery with a friendly english-speaking owner, some sinfully huge sugar donuts, and what appears to be olive bread. A french bread with an olive green tint to the inside, and a hint of olive flavor. Tasty stuff.

Excellent for dipping in Katya's daddy's home made oil.

Contents Copyright 2012 Jeff Bulf