August 10, Santorini, Greece
We arrived yesterday to paradise. A sweet man met us at our taxi and carried our suitcases, on his back, to our hotel that was tucked away in the cliffside village of Imerovigli. The eyes have truly never seen something so beautiful, the waves of the heart crashing in pleasure and desire. Volcanic islands cradled in the sea.
Santorini provides you with the most aesthetic color palette in every corner you look. All the houses, hotels, and buildings nestled on the side of the cliff, all of them white, and all of the corners and lines softened. No sharp edges, only a white blanket of smooth architecture laying on black volcanic rock. It is an overwhelmingly wonderful feeling to not be able to fathom how beautiful something is while you are witnessing it, how you could possibly describe what you are seeing. I am attempting, but I will give up soon.
Since yesterday a slight haze has laid itself on the sea, blurring the line between water and sky. In the distance a thin white line traces all of the charcoal islands, where waves must be crashing into their bodies. There are many heavens on earth, but I must be standing in one of them.
We are staying at Aeolos Studios & Suites. Since we arrived, Ohad and I have been drinking wine, dipping in and out of the pool, eating fresh seafood, and sitting in silence taking in the breathtaking views. I always want to take too many pictures but I am trying to balance.
Today we decided to walk around for a bit, exploring the winding paths and stairs through Imerovigli, I took my newly acquired vintage handbag from the 1940s, and packed it with my Olympus film camera. Only as we walked further could we truly understand how high all the properties are built on the island over the sea. You are constantly suspended in paradise over the Caldera.
We spent some time wandering the picturesque streets, spying on private pools and hotel bistros, and indulging in the luxury of walking in a new place without a purpose. We came across what looked like a massive private residence, one of many on the island, but this one caught our eye. On the left side there was a door, and from where I was standing it looked like there was nothing past that door. If you went through it you would just free-fall in to the sea. A doorway to the sea. Sun and water shining through the cutouts in the wooden door. This was the balcony to the Aegean. It was simple and majestic.
Skaros Rock was the home of a castle fortress, actively used in the Middle Ages, the rock high enough over the sea to protect the fortress from pirates. There it was, standing colossal and archaic in front of us, and we saw people climbing it in the distance.
Long story short, we climbed it also and enjoyed every second of it. With sandals, and that vintage purse, we managed what seemed like a thousand stairs. The view was beautiful. The air was clean. We passed a kind couple, red in the face as they started to walk back to the village, and they encouraged us, if we were brave enough, to climb all the way up, start down the other side, and to find the church. “You will be all alone there,” he said. We continued on and eventually we found that church.
There it stood, in all its sacred, abandoned glory. There really was something holy about it. This white and blue sanctuary all alone there on the side of the mountain, preserving time, spirituality, and the essence of life. Being there flooded me with the ultimate sense of calm, while injecting me with a fierce vitality. We wanted to make love right there.
Time passed. The wind was strong. Nature had its hands on us. I wish I could convey the startling imagery of this spot.
We closed our eyes. We were moved by the wind.
We laughed, we danced.
I stripped down. I cried.
It was divine.
The sublime colors, temperatures, and scenery, and the stones held us. And we thanked them. For the brief hour we spent there, the art of living and seeing bloomed, and there was freedom.