I hate Santorini...

From a geological perspective, Santorini is astonishing. It was once a complete island with a central volcano. A massive ancient eruption left behind only the rims of the volcano crater, a circular group of craggy islands marking the edges of the caldera. White-washed villages like iconic Oia teeter on the edge.

Here's detail that only a volcanologist could love. I came to Santorini on a small cruise ship; we were urged to view the approach from the top deck, and advisedly. Those different coloured strata of rock have some stories to tell. 

We travelled by coach from the debarkation point, zigzagging via countless pretty terrifying switchbacks to the top, then across the arid island to spend a few hours at Oia. Oia is famous for its sunsets so the visit was timed to transport the punters to the natural attraction.

Everything was so beautiful. Best recipe for awe: simple white-washed structures, serene blue sky, sparkling azure water, distant island vistas. 

I won't explain the whitewash story, but here's a little expert travel column if you like.

But what I saw wasn't awe. It was competitive selfie tourism, crowds of people, the beautiful young ones in their special Oia dresses -"I'm ready for my closeup Mr.Demille" - the older ones determined to tick off another box on their travel life list. Everyone has to be in 'that' photo of Oia.

If you think I'm being too grumpy, here's another opinion. I especially like the tour guide's comments on the cyclical nature of the Instagram phenomenon.

The narrow lanes leading to the north end of the village where the big event was scheduled to happen were elbow to elbow tourists, shuffling along, watch-watching. The lack of respect for privacy and property was embarrassing. No wonder many places hate tourists.

 

So I perched on a couple of spots, trying to ignore the folks smiling for the camera. The lack of humans in these photos is a tribute to my patience, and my height.

 I headed down a few side lanes, marvelling at the light, loving the soft shapes of the buildings, noticing how the sun 'set' over and over as it struck buildings at different heights and directions.

Impatience growing, I left the melee and returned to the little main square. A bit further on I encountered two members of our group wisely enjoying dolmades and wine. It was an easy decision to make, and there my lovely evening in Oia began. 

No, I don't hate Santorini.

How could I?

I just hate what we have done to it.

I took this photo from our ship as we were approaching the little harbour. If you look closely, you will see buses at various levels of the road criss-crossing the rock face that is the road up to Fira, the main village. As we were tendered from the ship to the dock we were marshalled into groups with breath-taking efficiency and assigned to specific buses to join the procession. In the old days, weary donkeys trudged the route with goods off-loaded from the boats tied at the harbour. 

These final photos are of the parking lot as we made our way back to our coach to make the return trip to the ship. 

No, I don't hate Santorini.

But there's a good chance Santorini hates us.