Sunday: Last Day On The Island

We fly home tomorrow, early. This was our last day and I imagine the last time I'll ever see this place...
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We climbed on board our rented quad about 11:30 this morning, headed for our beach. It was windy and we wondered what the sea would be like...driving the coast road, we saw lots of whitecaps.

But I also saw a low-fuel indicator blinking on the dash panel. Unlike in the US, when you rent a vehicle here, it might not come with a full tank. We'd started off with a quarter tank, but the tanks on these quads are tiny. So now what? Gas stations are few and far between on the island. Instead of going back to Oia and hoping to find a station, we decided to drive to Thira where we knew there were stations. So along the coast we flew, then eventually began the climb from more or less sea level to Thira level, maybe a 700 foot vertical climb. The little quad with the mushy brakes moved right along.

An interesting sight along the way, and I wish I'd stopped for a picture: a man with a donkey, its back loaded with plastic crates full of grapes. A bit farther down the road, a big stack of these crates. I guess the guy takes his donkey into the field (because grapes grow like bushes on the ground here, not on stretched wire like in proper vineyards), picks the grapes, puts them into the donkey's crates, and when he gets three or four full crates, walks them back for pickup by a truck or something. It's the old version of Greece B says is dying out.

We got to Thira, but not the busy main street which is such a madhouse of scooters, pedestrians, quads, cars, busses, and big trucks. We asked for directions to the gas station, me miming someone filling a tank. "That way," she said, pointing. That way ten miles, or what? It's all Greek to me. We went "that way." Found the station, got the gas, hit the road back to the beach.
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But this time, with a full tank, we explored a bit. We took a road that seemed to lead down to the water (and none of these roads has anything resembling a name---or if they do, they don't bother putting up a sign) and we came to a beach, basically empty. But the winds were high and the waves were pretty big and broke pretty hard. Still, we set up camp. B even went out once and said the water was really warm---too bad we hadn't discovered this beach days ago, when the waves were calmer.
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After an hour or so we took off. It was a nice ride along the coast road, with nobody behind us trying to pass or run up our ass. We passed our regular beach, because its waves were large and choppy, in favor of the beach we'd visited the first day. When we got there, the waves were more managable so we set up our blankets and smeared the sunscreen on and lingered, listening to the sound of the crashing waves, swimming, and watching the others. A fine afternoon.
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We drove back to Oia and turned the quad in at the rental agency. We've dealt with the same young man when we rented the car and the quad, and half the time when we walk in he's eating. But he's stuck there 12 hours a day so when else is he gonna eat? The process of returning a rental is weirdly simple: you just walk in and give him the keys. He doesn't bother inspecting the vehicle or anything. Just "thank you,"and back to his French fries. OK.
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We wrote some postcards then went to the PO to mail them, then walked over to the office to settle with the landlord. Silver hair, shirt open, very tanned, extremely laid baco. He sat at his desk writing a receipt that we'll never be able to read because it's in Greek. I asked him if I could take a photo of him and he agreed.

Then he called the cab company for us to arrange a pickup for early tomorrow morning.

There are things I can say about this guy but I'll save them for my friends back home when we meet in person. Let's just say B and I, while very happy with the setting and the view and the general state of our accomodations, had a bit of a feeling we were being smiled at, but only in a faux-friendly way by a character who could probably be pretty greasy if he wants to be. And I'll leave it at that.
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Contrast that to a stop we made at the outstandingly cool Atlantis Books, where I bought my very first book by Lawrence Durrell, a boon companion to the great Henry Miller during his Paris days. It's the coolest bookstore I've ever seen, at least insofar as the setting goes...check out the website and the Flickr page.

We talked to a young American from New York who finished school and came out to work after visiting the island a few years ago. He's staying a couple of months then flying home, to settle in Chicago. We asked him how he copes with the madness of the gathered tourists----he says you have to find your quiet, private places. He boats to nearby, non-touristic islands. Some of these are so close they're just a motorboat ride away, yet have no regularly scheduled ferries traveling there, which maddened B, who really wanted to visit nearby islands.

Back "home," we looked through the fridge and scrounged what leftovers we could for our final supper on the terrace. As the sun set we ate our remaining fruit, cheese, veggies, and drank a bottle of wine. B fed the yowling cats who came around, in defiance of the landlord.

This trip will live with me. There were many impressions, "good" and "bad." The main ingredient in the "good" category was B, with whom I've had many wonderful travels...none of what I saw or did on the island of Santorini would have been as memorable or as fun if not for the fact that B and I were doing it together.
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As I write this, it's Monday afternoon. This morning we awoke early, finished packing and eating and feeding the cats, and left for the airport.

The airport has a rooftop lounge. You can go up there, have a drink or a smoke, and watch the planes arrive and depart.

While we sat on the crowded roof watching a couple of planes get fueled and loaded, who showed up but a young cat, probably about 8 months old. A friendly boy. He walked over and let me pet him, then flopped down by my feet for a few minutes.

Then he wandered on, looking for whatever Greek cats seek.

Thirty minutes later we were in the air. 2.5 hours after that we were back in Vienna.

And that's how these things seem to unfold.