Chasing the SETTING SUN

IT SOLD ITSELF ON THE PROMISE OF A SPECTACULAR SUNSET AND UNRIVALLED LUXURY, YET SANCHITA GUHA FINDS THAT SANTORINI HAS MANY OTHER GEMS TO OFFER

- SANCHITA GUHA

They deserve to be on fridge magnets, those women on quad bikes you see all over Santorini, the Aegean allrounder famed for three icons: sunsets, volcanoes, donkeys. As Greek islands go, Santorini’s size falls somewhere between little brother to nearby ruin-rich Naxos, and fraternal twin to relatively faraway party destination Mykonos. On the map, it has a distinctive appearance: that of an open maw about to eat a smaller landmass—Thirasia.

Now benign, the volcano erupted in a big show in 1620 BCE, giving Santorini its greatest gift: the caldera, whose rim forms the island’s western shoreline. The volcano juts out in the middle of the caldera bay, an ever-present reminder of the island’s seismic history.

In early summer, the Caldera Walk hums with people and business. This is a 10-kilometre stretch from Fira, the midpoint of the island, to Oia, the northern village that everyone wants to visit.

It was late afternoon when I set out for the Fira-Imerovigli hike. The buzz of commerce from the shops and restaurants lining the Caldera Walk began to fade after a while as I found myself following a narrow lane flanked by private homes, churches, and small inns. The hubbub gone, the real character of Santorini seemed to emerge—a place sometimes overwhelmed by its own popularity, yet confident in its sense of community, based in no small measure on its Christian faith.