Monday, February 01, 2010

COLD WEATHER DREAMING

Santorini from above

It could be that you, like me, are looking out at a white world right now or possibly one a little too familiar at the present time.                 Seems this is a good time to transport your spirit to faraway places if for no other reason than to remind yourself they are there.           Above you see a photo taken from the cliffside town of Santorini, Greece, on a glorious sunny October day. Those who call this home         assure me that on some days the rain and wind blows so fiercely across the caldera (sunken volcano bay) that they're prone to remain huddling by the fire inside those little stucco houses. So, not every place is perfect all the time but on this day, perfect it pretty               much was.

Santorini Street Scene

Like most Greek Island towns, this one remained crammed with tourists like me, puffing up the steep inclines clutching cameras and considering the thousands of wares that shopkeepers displayed in doorways and on streets. Then just when you thought you could be anywhere, that you're positive that scarf, that shawl, that hat, had appeared in multiple manifestations in at least 40 towns before,              you round a corner and glimpse that view. Oh, this is Santorini! I'm in Greece!

It's then that you break from the well-trodden paths, heading higher into the hills. Yes, it's hot and you're a little dry and                         every cafe passed tries to lure you in for refreshment overlooking that magnificent view but you're on an adventure. Higher                         and higher you climb the cobbled streets until you're beyond the tourest enclave and into the place where the real people live.                      Old ladies dressed in black wave at you from their doorsteps while others wonder why you're not back in the town buying                             their son's olive oil and spice mixtures. Up here, the roads are most gravel and the fields hold goats and a few chickens                                 but you feel as though you've seen a small part of both sides.

Okay, so time to head back to the ship. All right then, you're way up here and the ship's way down there. Only two ways                               exist to get up and down—the chairlift or down the 500+, donkey-littered steps. Which would you choose? Right, so we                                take the steps.

One hour and a half later, our legs quaking with fatigue, we successfully maneouver past close to a hundred donkeys being                       herded up and down the stairs by the their masters. A few of them seemed a bit disgruntled by their treatment and would                          head right for us to give us a bit of a start. More than once, I found myself clinging to the wall while the hoofs clambered                               up past. The drivers, just like their donkeys, appeared to be wearing blinders. I don't recall seeing a single tourist riding                                 a donkey, meaning the animals had lots of time off and the masters weren't getting paid. Hence, we walkers weren't                                   regarded in the friendliest of terms.

Back down at sea level, you look up at the sugar-cube town rimming the lip of the old volcano and wonder if you'll ever                                   believe you were really there. Maybe one February day, you'll take out your photos and revisit that blue, that utterly                              perfect blue or maybe knit something to transport you some place vivid.

Celestial Blue Wrap

This wrap was made in honor of that sea blue. It's available as a free recipe here in the July 09 newsletter archived here:http://archive.constantcontact.com/fs081/1102315364698/archive/1102631943896.html .  If you'd like to receive my newsletter, just sign up on the button found on this page.