Up the cliffs

Welp. In addition to needing to know how to say eff-Harry’s-toe, today I realized I needed another phrase.

Σιγά το διάολο!

No idea how to pronounce it. However, it means “Slow the f😳ck down!!”

The taxi driver, paid through Uber, received a set rate to get us from the flat to the port. Ergo, it was in his best interest to get us there as rapidly as possible.

120km/hr on a road where the limit was 80.

While answering his phone.

Dodging pedestrians…

…And un-helmeted, short-short beclad young ladies barely holding onto the idiots determined to out-maneuver the taxi with their motorbikes.

We took one turn on two wheels.

Probably a good thing the driver didn’t understand much English, although he displayed his ability to thank us in multiple languages I recognized, and even more I didn’t.

We made it on board the Enchanted Princess, one of the line’s largest. As we’ve been a bit inclined to do this trip, we tried to figure out what to do at the last minute.

Initially, we’d figured at the first stop, we’d take the tender in and stroll around one of the towns, maybe have a leisurely lunch. No need for a formal tour, right?

Santorini is a small yet impressively expensive Greek island formed on the edge of a volcano. The caldera is submerged, but the edges rise out of the water at a freaking alarming rate, so several very scenic towns perch on the top.

Okay, they dangle precariously on the edge. Who are we kidding.

Historically, they’ve had donkeys trek tourists disinclined to climb the brutal, hour long switchback staircase up the precipice.

However, with the ever increasing waistlines of the populace, these poor beasts are unable to keep up, especially in the heat. The donkey owners are now derided for continuing to have them carry obese tourists up the mount.

In 1982, a wealthy resident installed a cable car – four minutes each way to the top, €6 each way. It can move 600 people an hour in both directions. This act of philanthropy included payments to the donkey owners to compensate for the lost business.

That, IMO, is brilliant but for a country renowned for its mathematical progress, damn, they’re also clueless. Or so greedy they’re willing to make their visitors miserable… at the end of their visit.

Three cruise ships arrive in the morning. Even if only a quarter of the people want to ascend, that’s likely 3,000 people including off duty staff.

Oh, yeah, they can have as many as five (five!) ships tendering the unwitting vict… uh… tourists ashore. They have up to 80,000 people showing up, making this one of the most crowded ports in the world.

So here’s the math issue… the Pythagorean theorem is much, much more complex than 3,000/600 per hour – and that’s a conservative figure. Five HOURS to shift everyone up the precipice? Oh, hell no.

But it’s okay! If you pay for a tour, they bus you up to the top, thereby avoiding the misery of attempting to ascend in time to meet your guide. Genius, right?

Except… they provide nearly everyone a ticket to get back via the swinging coffins. No shade, no where to sit as you wait. I was reading reports of three hours or more in line to get down.

I’d be willing to try the steps down if not for the donkeys. The staircase shares space with pack animals. It’s already smooth cobbled marble, but add donkey poo and you may take the staircase painfully on your bum.

I talked to one woman who said she saw several people slip and at least one fall. I can’t imagine evacuation from the steps is easy or comfortable… stretchered by a couple of I’m sure very strong, fit young lads already working to maintain their balance, lugging your carcass up the hill to the lone hospital, wishing you hadn’t indulged in so many desserts on board.

That’s a hard pass.

So I approached this with some serious anxiety… three hours in the heat? To ease my nerves somewhat, we booked one of the few remaining excursions (a walking tour of Oia (“EEE-yah”), Pyrgos (“PEE-ree-ohs” we think) and Fira, three of the towns with a taverna lunch, but with the understanding we’d have to either line up or risk landing in a pile of donkey leftovers.

There isn’t even the OPTION of paying a shitton of cash to avoid the return misery and ride a bus back to a navigable port. The port for Fira is reached ONLY by foot or by cable car.

I don’t understand why they can’t bus people back to the ports from which they landed. Are they driving people around in the Greek equivalent of pumpkin carriages a la Cinderella? These giant motor coaches turn into what, grapevines or something after the clock strikes noon?

Pffft.

As soon as we got back to Fira, we headed for the cable car station. Halfway there, came to a dead stop. People started piling up behind us.

Since we left immediately it took a little less than an hour. I wouldn’t have wanted to wait any longer, given a bunch of people were finishing their tours at the same time.

The towns were pretty, but as Beloved said, we haven’t seen anywhere yet this trip we’d like to live. I’m sure Greece has lovely places to reside, but it’s too hot and too crowded for me.

And I prefer to flush toilet paper.