Sadly the time had come for us to leave Santorini. We checked out of Dimitri’s and called him to arrange a lift back to the port, but he refused, despite having promised it when we checked in.Walking to the centre of town we decided that we’d had enough of scooters, and should get a car. There was some debate about which one we should have, but we ended up in a Hyundai Ascent, which had plenty of space for the luggage, automatic gearbox and air conditioning too. Since I was the only one with a driver’s licence with me who was reasonably experienced behind the wheel, I officially hired the car, which was quite a challenge in the travel agency seemed to doubt that I was 21. She pored over my licence carefully.
“What year were you born?”
“1981. I don’t remember it personally I’m afraid”
“Hmm. You look about sixteen”
Eventually she satisfied herself that I was the very same Andrew Betts as the one who’s driving licence she was holding, and led us to the car.
First we headed to the red beach, based on a recommendation from my sister. Driving was pretty easy, though remembering to check for oncoming traffic when turning left was a bit unusual. Plus we now regarded scooterers as a menace to respectable drivers. Funny how quickly we managed to change sides on that issue.
The Red Beach was, predictably, red. Breathtakingly sheer cliffs hung over the narrow sandy strip, on which dozens of bathers were sunning themselves. We approached the beach from one of the cliff tops, but it seemed a bit crowded, and there was a nude photo shoot in progress at one end, which put us off.
Nathalia and Sunil wanted to find a decent beach for some final-day sunbathing, and they decided that this wasn’t it, so we jumped back ion the car and headed for the ‘white’ beach. A sign proved to be a dead end, so on a whim we followed a road to the southwest and found the island’s lighthouse, perched on a rocky outcrop on the corner of the island. It offered spectacular views of the volcano and bay.
Charlotte had given us a beach recommendation on Sunday, so Nathalia and Sunil decided that we should follow it up. Chris and I dropped them off at the beach, which turned out to be a good choice though I can’t really remember the name of it. Anyway, they were happy so we drove off and decided to give the monastery another go. It had been closed when we tried to visit it the first time, but Chris had seen a sign that said it closed at four, so we were more hopeful that it would be open at this time of day.
A lot of winding roads later, we got to the top and had a repeat experience. It was still closed. This time I went to look at the sign with Chris, and realised that it was in Greek.
“Didn’t you say there was a sign?”
“Yes, there it is”
“It’s in Greek”
“But it says four o’clock – there”
To be precise, there was a huge amount of Greek, with “16:00” in the midst of it. It could have meant “We close at four”, but equally it could have been the score of the last inter-monastery basketball game.
“So we’ve driven all the way up here on the basis of four digits in the middle of a sign written in a language we don’t understand?”
“Yes”
Well, fair enough then. We drove back down the hill, and went to Kamari to say goodbye to Charlotte, having picked up Sunil and Nathalia on the way. Chris drove, and due to some navigation which I will kindly describe as ‘eccentric’, we got there via the island’s airport. There was something strange about it too – it had what appeared to be a series of anti-aircraft flak guns along the runway. Why anyone would consider attacking Santorini’s airport is beyond me.
We had lunch and walked over to Kali Bazaar. Charlotte was asleep, so we bought a few souvenirs and left our regards. We were back in Perissa in time to collect our laundry and have an ice cream before handing the car back and picking up our prearranged chauffeur to take us to the port. We had to pay an extra €10 for this since Dimitri had failed us. The chauffeur seemed to want to take another person too, which was ridiculous since even without luggage the car will only seat five. I imagined attempting to fit six people, five backpacks and four daypacks into a Honda Ascent, and told the driver in no uncertain terms that it wasn’t going to work. He rather grumpily agreed to drive the four of us there immediately.
The boat arrived about 15 minutes before our scheduled departure time – it was making a flying stop. It was the best yet though, beating both of the rust buckets we’d experienced so far by far. It was in a different league.
To be precise it wasn’t the height of luxury, but it was doing it’s best. For instance the floors were all wooden laminate, but of the click-lok type you buy from your local B&Q, and the click-lok wasn’t working too well. Having said that, the staff were well turned out and friendly, and there was a power socket in the lounge for Chris to plug his laptop in. We were all travelling deck class this time, so Chris was roughing it somewhat compared to his usual class of travel. He didn’t look impressed.