So we arrived in Santorini aboard the high-speed ferry from Piraeus. In April, few of the passengers were tourists. Most were Greek families visiting the island for the weekend. Or maybe a Athenian visiting a friend. Or shop and hotel owners returning to the island to get ready for the season.
Nevertheless, in Greece, the ferries are such a typical mode of transport, that they can disembark as fast as a New York city bus. It became apparent quickly as we gathered our luggage for our own weekend stay that everyone was focused and ready to go when we docked.
In my travel planning, I suspected that Santorini's port, despite its small size, would have plenty of transportation options into town. The port is at the bottom of one the steep cliffs. I assumed it would resemble many other Mediterranean or Caribbean island ports I had visited with a mad chaos of taxis pushing for your business, mopeds whizzing off and small 6 person vans-turned-buses. People milling about negotiating fares and if were were lucky, some kind of organization to the mess. Boy was I ever wrong.
Upon stepping off the huge ferry, the literally hundreds of passengers disappeared. As if they all dove into the ocean. Everyone apparently had something pre-arranged as every small van was loaded and took off. Family members drove down to great their loved ones. Only a half-dozen or so taxis filled quickly. A few moped rental agencies, an Avis office and a hotel and restaurant or two were located on the water but little else.
I quickly discovered that I, Mr Itinerary, had no plan. All we needed was a ride up the hill and into Firá town. As we stood there looking like bumbling tourists with our - albeit light - luggage, we wondered what our options were. Renting a moped with the bags was out of the question. Avis could be a fall back but we didn't need a car. As soon as the concern set in, a pushy Greek taxi driver approached me to inquire if we needed a ride. We breathed a sigh of relief as he ushered us to the last Mercedes wagon waiting on the dock. When we got closer we discovered there were already five people in the back seat and one in front. He grabbed our luggage and threw it into the battered rack atop the car and opened the front passenger door. Is this guy serious?
We were desperate. I climbed into the front and squeezed the already-seated patron towards the middle of the front bench seat. The driver climbed in. My wife proceeded to climb aboard seated on my lap. In the front seat. Up a steep cliff. Sure enough, we were off. Luckily we arrived into the heart of Firá unscathed. My heart returned to it's resting rate and we paid the man a few Euros and wished him well.
The weekend proved to be well worth the troubles and our return journey was, sufficit to say, much less concerning. (We flew back to Athens!) Next time, we'll be the first one off the ferry.
