The “Scene-ry” in Santorini

Past sunset Oía Santorini

Santorini. I get it now. I really do. There’s a reason people gush over this crescent-shaped slice of the Aegean.

The whitewashed homes clinging to volcanic cliffs, the impossibly blue domes —it’s all ridiculously pretty. It’s a kind of head-shakingly, laughable kind of beautiful.

At times, the maze of clustered homes reminded me of Horton Hears a Who—a whimsical world teetering on the edge of a caldera all cobbled and jumbled together by sets of staircases that sometimes don’t get you exactly where you’re meant to go.

We chose a traditional Greek cave home perched high on the ridge with a terrace overlooking the volcanic caldera and those iconic domes in Oía and the endless Aegean. I could’ve stayed right there on that terrace for days. We kind of did.

No museums, no maps, no car, and no agenda—just watching ships glide in and out of the harbor and the light do its painterly thing from sunrise to well beyond sunset.

Every moment felt like it was begging to be turned into a postcard. And, like Monet with a camera instead of a paintbrush, I took 1,000 photos in Santorini, sometimes of the same scene just at different times of day to capture that very particular light.

That said…Oía, Santorini is a bit of a different Greece. It’s stunning, yes. There’s no debate there.

However, it doesn’t quite scratch that cultural curiosity itch for me. There’s not much in the way of local history or tradition on display (at least in Oía)—it feels more like a dreamy backdrop for a honeymoon photoshoot or Instagram reel than a deep dive into Greek life and I heard more American accents than Greek ones.

So this post isn’t a deep cultural unpacking. Nor is it a litany of activities—it’s more of a visual love letter to Santorini with some social commentary thrown in. Sometimes, beauty really is enough…for a few days until that cultural itch needs to be scratched again.

What stood out most during our stay in Santorini? The day crowds. Each morning, cruise ships and ferries arrive like clockwork, unloading wave after wave of eager explorers. They, well…we…pour into taxis and buses, winding their way up the cliffs in a procession.

Getting off the ferry in Santorini

By mid-morning, the narrow alleys of Oía swell with selfie sticks, sun hats, and tour groups—each guide holding up a numbered paddle or brightly colored scarf like a lighthouse in a sea of tourists. Add to that the suitcase porters, who somehow hoist enormous luggage over their shoulders and weave through the crowd like pros. “Excuse me! Coming through!” they call out, as they navigate steep, winding staircases with the agility of mountain goats—delivering bags right to your doorstep.

Venture out early, and you’ll likely find yourself in a slow, scenic shuffle—equal parts people-watching and bumper-to-bumper sightseeing. It’s not unpleasant… just don’t expect to set any speed records before lunch.

But once the day trippers vanish—Santorini transforms. A hush falls over the cliffside, like the island itself has exhaled. Suddenly, it feels like you have the whole place to yourself. You can hear a spoon clink in a teacup three terraces away… or someone coughing faintly from a home halfway down the cliff. It’s so still, you feel like you need to whisper—It’s like you’ve stumbled into a secret version of Santorini, meant only for those who stay the night.

In the daytime, the entrance to our apartment just so happened to be the most visited patch of cobblestone in all of Oía. We’re talking prime real estate—front-row seats to the never-ending photo op of Santorini’s famous blue domes. From morning until sunset, queues of elegantly dressed people…and some in various stages of un-dress, stood for hours in a line snaking 50 yards back to the main thoroughfare, for their photo op moment with the iconic domes in the background.

Once again, Liam channeled his inner David Attenborough, creating a video commentary…this time on human nature. It’s BBC meets Santorini-TV. Due to the blaring Spanish playlist and hum of people down below it’s a little hard to hear in parts so I will transcribe it here…but it’s funnier to give it a listen.

Transcript:

“We’re here in Santorini, in the natural habitat of Touristis Graecus. Often traveling long distances, for their yearly migration, they will wait for one of the greatest attractions of humankind: Instagram reel photo shoots.

They forfeit food, water, rest, oftentimes spending hours climbing stairs…only to achieve a singular photo upon which they will post. They value this above food. Many skip lunch and wait through the long, hot hours of the day, standing in the glaring sun only to achieve what brings them happiness the most: A simple photo shoot. As simple as it is, it drives the production of a chemical we call dopamine. This dopamine is responsible for the action of all they do.”

Tensions sometimes ran high—especially in the late morning heat—when some groups treated the site like a full-on Vogue cover-shoot, taking endless slow-motion twirls and dramatic, come-hither gazes over the shoulder. From our terrace above, we’d hear the occasional, “Hurry up!” from an exasperated tourist with a ticking cruise ship schedule.

Sensing an opportunity, Gaelan and Onora took it upon themselves to liven up the scene. What began as a lone stuffed animal (Bear) dancing for the crowd, turned into a full-blown terrace performance—complete with a rousing Spanish playlist (we didn’t have any Greek music on hand) . The line of overheated, makeup-melting tourists soon found themselves mildly entertained by our kids instead of glaring at the dawdling influencers ahead of them.

And then came the breakthrough: Someone dropped a euro in appreciation. The kids lit up like slot machines. Tip hats appeared. Homemade signs followed: “Tip the Bear!” More animals emerged. “Tip the Suna (a fox)” and then just “Tip the animals” when they decided to bring out the whole bedtime army.

Soon, the crowd was tossing coins like we were running a street theater. Even more, the house had an old ship’s bell and each time they received a coin, they’d say “thank you” and ring it.

These two entrepreneurial siblings, at the end of the three days raked in $50 in coins! Oía may be known for its domes, but that week, our kids gave the town something else to talk about.

Before dinner one night, we took a cue from the Instagrammers below and did our own little photo shoot on the terrace. Once the “normal shots” were out of the way, Liam became the director, executing selfie-stick ridiculousness.

That evening, we had dinner at Skala, indulging in pasta, lamb meatballs, and—because you can’t seem to go wrong here—moussaka, again. Much of the meal was spent puzzling over Quinn’s growing list of riddles, which had us all debating wildly implausible answers. Bellies full and our “puzzlers sore” (as the Grinch would say), we sauntered back to our quiet neighborhood, and into bed.

After all the sitting, terracing, and eating, we needed an activity for the following day to get our blood flowing. Ammoudi Bay - a lovely cove for swimming - is said to be 287 steps down the steep cliffs from Oía.

I beg to differ. While the steps are labeled for your counting pleasure, what they didn’t take into consideration is that each step is LONG, requiring you to take 4 slightly slippery steps until you get to the next one.

So, let’s be honest here. In reality, we went down 1,148 steps to get to the sea. About halfway down, dusty donkeys stood in the shade, standing in their own poo, ready to carry you the rest of the way. I said, “Nay” to that.

We reached the sea and Ammoudi Bay to find a whole town. Who knew? Wait. You could drive a car down here?

Waterfront restaurants, sun-drying octopi, and boats lazily bobbing about in the turquoise water, captained by sleepy cats…greeted us. It all looked so delicious, we couldn’t wait to jump in.

Getting to the swimming hole was just around a rocky promontory. Suddenly, we came to a halt at a large metal gate that read, “Danger. Rocks falling.” So, of course we climbed around it and continued on. I mean, everyone else was doing it. (said the Mom of four kids…great modeling)

Straight out of a pirate movie scene, we plunged into crystal-clear water and fought the swift, choppy current to reach a large, craggy rock island that once housed a church, now in disrepair. Hovering weightlessly and admiring the schools of fish below, I let my imagination run a little too wild as the water deepened beyond visibility. “Breathe,” I told myself.

Oh right. We now have to climb up the 1,148 steps. Just as you start to ascend, there’s a perfectly placed kiosk, “Tesla taxis here.” No thanks, I’d rather walk. Heart pounding in my ears, I made my way up the cliff slowly, taking much needed photo breaks while the kids buzzed passed in a torrent of animated conversation. Ah, youth.

We made it and changed for one last family photo!

For our final night, we grabbed takeaway from Skiza Pizzeria and lingered on the terrace, savoring every last bite—and every last view—before saying goodbye to this beautiful place.

Next, we will join Theseus and face the legendary Minotaur in Crete. Cheers!!