The capital of Santorini, the village of Fera, is 1,000 feet above its tiny harbor. The harbor is so tiny that the ship cannot dock there. Tenders must transport us to the dock, and four crew must help us navigate the bouncing and treacherous step from the boat to the dock. If the waves are too brisk, good luck to you!
Once you have conquered the dock, you must get up to Fera by tram or donkey. If the winds are high, guess what doesn't run. And, for some reason, the ship didn't recommend the donkeys. People can walk the same trail as the donkeys, but the problem is not only that it's a steep 1000-foot climb, but that the donkeys have carefully placed "presents" upon the path. Tom and I are tough; after all, we've hiked several times in the UK through, it seems, thousands of sheep pastures. But we didn't have the choice. The tenders simply would not run people to shore in the high winds.
Stuck on board a rolling ship, we made use of the ship's facilities and did nothing.
We reclined and
Watched windows being washed.
Let me say now that today is Tom's birthday. He got a mention in the ship's daily newspaper and the dining room cobbled up a special breakfast for him (meaning us). He accused me of arranging all that. I wish I could be that devious! I told him that at least forty servers didn't circle us and sing him happy birthday while beating a drum and wearing spangles. When we went to dinner this evening in one of the two "special" restaurants on board (menu created by master sushi chef Nobu, not that I'm bragging), the servers circled us and brought out a cake with a candle. After Tom blew it out, everybody clapped and wished him a happy birthday. At least there were no spangles or drums. Tom took it well.
I talked to the front desk about what chance our excursion had of being called off. A clerk said that if the weather hadn't calmed by noon, it probably wouldn't happen. At 11:00, I saw the one remaining tender head to Fera's harbor. Ooo, ooo, ooo, I thought, maybe they're checking to see if they can dock. At 11:30, we were cleared to go ashore and the tram was turned on.
Yay!
Now the funny thing is we didn't even land at Fera's dock. We were spirited away to another village dock. We still needed four crew members to get each of us over to the other side. A bus took us to Akrotiri, a 3600-year-old city buried by volcanic ash, à la Pompeii. Actually, about three percent of it is now unburied and sheltered in a neat building.
Guides always want to show us ancient toilets!
Later we dodged tourist shops to gawk at blue-domed churches and whitewashed walls. One shopkeeper asked us why we were so late. They really have the cruising timetable down!
In about the middle of the picture is a dome. If we had gotten a fancier excursion, the dome would have been blue. But our package only allowed for brown domes.
Two American boys, so the story goes, loved Santorini so much, they opened a bookstore. The eccentrically decorated AtlantisBookstore was a treat. Of course I bought a book. (Need you wonder?)
We wound up in Fera and took the tram down. Six of us were scrunched in one of the tram bubbles. Tom looked over to the donkey path next to the tram lines and saw the donkeys being taken down to the bottom. He got excited and said it was too bad we couldn't take the donkeys. "I took the donkey up," a young woman said shyly and grinned. Which goes to show that you can't always rely on the ship's advice.
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