year, lured by those images of an orange sun dipping into
the sea behind Oia’s iconic windmills. Even if you’ve
never been there, you know what it’s supposed to look
like. It’s the famous Greek beauty that launched a
thousand screen savers.
I wanted to see if it was still possible to have an
authentic experience on Santorini—and if not, to see if
there were islands in the Cyclades where I might find
one. After all, the entire archipelago is known for that
striking combination of piercingly blue water, traditional
whitewashed buildings, and rugged landscapes that
Santorini has done so much to popularize. An hour away
by jet boat, tiny Folegandros offers similarly dramatic
vistas in an atmosphere of rustic calm; Milos, once the
resting place of the Venus de Milo, an icon of classical
beauty, has extraordinary beaches, archaeological sites,
and a timeless, peaceful interior. Was there a way, I
wondered, to still experience Santorini, and the rest of
this region, in all its raw, unspoiled glory?
I was shown around the island by Nikos Boutsinis, the
affable, bearded proprietor of Santorini Walking Tours.
Nikos, who has the rangy physique of a distance runner,
whisked me through the heart of Oia to avoid a boatload of
visitors about to be discharged from one of the cruise
ships anchored in the bay. “The cruise-ship visits define
how much fun we can have,” he said. “We must go
quickly.” On our way out of town, he pointed out the ornate
captain’s houses, built with the spoils of the island’s
19th-century shipping boom, and took me inside dwellings
that had been carved from the volcanic rock of the cliffs.
Then we jumped into his car and headed inland.
Before the arrival of mass tourism, Santorini’s
vineyards were one of its main sources of income, and
today much of its interior is still given over to grape
cultivation. As we drove toward the town of Vourvoulos,
near the island’s quieter eastern shore, Nikos pointed out
the vines, which had been trained into distinctive low
basket shapes to protect them from the Cyclades’ famous
winds. At Vassaltis Vineyards, we tasted whites made
from the local grape, Assyrtiko, which the island is
famous for. To anyone whose idea of Greek wine has been
defined by the overpowering pine flavor of retsina,
Assyrtiko—which produces magnificent, complex whites
with hints of honey and green apple—is a revelation. At
the Artspace winery in Exo Gonia, our next stop, we
sampled vinsanto, a dessert wine made from sun-dried
Assyrtiko grapes. It was sweet but not cloying, with a
heady scent like attar of roses.
Just outside Exo Gonia, Nikos showed me a group of
derelict houses that have stood empty since 1956, when
the most recent earthquake hit the island. The event
caused colossal damage, destroying more than half the
buildings in Oia and Fira and setting off a wave of
emigration. The island’s future looked bleak until the
influx of visitors began to transform its fortunes.
Tourism is now by far the most important industry on
the island—and is growing exponentially. Nikos, like