Santorini, at the hour nobody claps
I almost skipped Santorini. I was told it would be full, and it was, between ten in the morning and nine at night. So I walked the Oia cliff path at six, with cats, a few women with brooms, and nobody else. The caldera was flat and silver. The famous white walls, up close, are not white. They are grey and cream, patched like old sheets.
In the afternoon I tasted Assyrtiko from vines grown coiled into low baskets on the volcanic soil, hiding from the wind. At sunset I watched the caldera fade from a terrace well away from the crowd in Oia. Dinner in Pyrgos was the quietest hour on the island. Santorini is beautiful. It is simply better before breakfast.

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