On Distance

“You must go to Santorini!” Before we left home, almost all of us heard this. So yesterday, we took the two-hour-plus boat ride to this dramatic island. It not only may have inspired the tales of Atlantis, but also stole the show in the more recent The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants.

Santorini is a fantasy island: whitewashed buildings all trimmed in blue, labyrinth streets, and 400 churches crowded with holy icons, all stacked on sheer vertical cliffs that rise as high as 1,000 feet above sea level. It is also stacked with tourists; there is very little wriggle room. The only space smaller than the distance between sunscreen-slathered tourists was the six-inch distance between our bus going up the hill and the other bus coming down.

Santorini was lovely, for sure, but it is not this Greece that drew us here. Back at the hotel Sunday night—exhausted and trying hard not to be cranky—we felt like we were coming home. After all, we danced at the party here Friday night, we know how to get around town on buses that don’t say “tour” on the side, and when we dragged into school today, it felt exactly like Monday morning. Even the kids were droopier than usual. It’s a long way between Santorini and Saint Martina School.