Everyone was amazed by the beauty of this village. I cannot even begin to describe it. It was even better than Mykonos. White-washed houses are stationed in volcanic soil, and many are built in niches in rock on cliffs. Blue-domed churches are sprinkled throughout the village. We stopped at one of the churches to light a candle for Costa’s friend. The interior of the church was very ornate. Stepped streets take you to various houses, shops, and other sites.

In one of the shops we went to we found a very crazy older shopkeeper. He was selling some typical souvenirs but was very rude. He had a bunch of cameras around his shop and  watched where everyone went. However, I think that many cameras had to be fake, as he would have to have a dozen VC'Rs. Talk about paranoid. Someone should tell him that for a clepto, the danger makes it more fun to steal. He told Costa that he couldn’t speak proper Greek and was rude to other customers. I saw something I liked but would not buy from his store. Why should I give money to this jerk? However, Costa and Tiffany did end up buying things from his store. I guess people in Chicago and Australia are nicer. If he were rude to me, I might have accidentally bumped into one of the clay carvings and told him when it broke that he should have put it in a spot with less traffic and walked out. Despite this, everything until this point had been perfect.

It was nearing the time to say goodbye to Santorini. To get back to the ship, you have to walk from Oia to the port of Ammoudi 300 steps down. There are three ways to get down the stairs to the ship. You can take a cable car or donkey ride down or walk down the donkey doo-covered stairs. The cable car line was very long and filled with older people waiting to get down. Also, none of us wanted to walk down the donkey doo-covered stairs. We opted to take the donkey down. The donkeys, after all, look pretty nice from the top of the stairs. I should have known when I first gave the ticket for the ride to the man taking tickets what would unfold. When we gave in the tickets, we were told to keep walking down. We were not told how far to go or what to do. On our way down we were asked for our tickets again. Not speaking a word of Greek, I kept gesturing that I had given my ticket in. We were then told to keep going down. Finally, some time later, a guide decided to put us on his donkeys. Unfortunately, he chose to put me on the donkey first. I had one foot in the stirrup when the donkey started walking away on its own, while our guide was putting Tiffany and Costa on their own donkeys. On the ship, our tour manager said that the donkeys would be held by the guide and we would be lead down five at a time. I am terrified that my donkey is taking off on its own, while Tiffany and Costa are sitting on their donkeys who are not taking off. The guide is still putting two more people on their donkeys when my donkey turns a corner and I don’t see anyone anymore. I start calling for the guide who does not come. The donkey turns a tight corner and I see how many feet it is to the bottom and how steep the cliff really is. All that is running through my mind is what if this donkey decides to throw me off and I fall to bottom of the cliff and die? I guess that would be a faster fourth way to get to the bottom. I suppose the headline would be "Dumb American tourist thrown by jackass off a cliff." I wonder how that would look like in Greek letters?

Anyway, many minutes later, I finally see Tiffany and Costa behind me. The guide is holding their reins while my donkey is still walking ahead on its own. I am cursing under my breath, praying and having visions of Christopher Reed at the same time. I hear Tiffany scream, too, as her donkey apparently stumbled precariously close to the edge of the cliff. Costa is carrying on, saying to turn around while he takes a picture. Here I am hanging on for dear life. I’m thinking that when I get down, if I live, I’ll smack the upside of his head to knock some sense into him. The donkey continues to walk down and stumbles. It dips down to eat some hay. I get a clear view of the jagged mountains and how far down it is. The donkey make some noise when he stumbles: is he going to throw me over now? The donkey proceeds to charge at people in front of me. I’m like, "I don’t know what to do to the people in front and scream at them to move to the side for their own good." If the runaway donkey kicks them down, I hope I am not responsible.

Finally, we are almost to the bottom when our guide asks us for tips. He states that it is more money if we want to continue the donkey ride down. Tiffany and I throw the tip at him as fast as we can so we can get off. Tiffany looks visibly terrified when she gets off, as I am sure I did. She screams at Costa that she needs time to get her bearings before she can take a picture. Costa is the only one carrying on staying on the crazy donkey, wanting a picture. When headed down, we still have to walk down the donkey doo-covered stairs. The first thing I do after I go to the bathroom downstairs is to go to a bar and order a beer. Tiffany and Costa run back and tell me to hurry up because the last tender is about to leave. I chug the beer down as fast I can and head to the tender, thankful to be alive!

Upon arrival to Santorini by ferry, you'll find yourself herded onto the bus to Fira (1,30€). From the bus station in Fira, take the bus to Oia (0,90€), the town on the northern tip of the island, famous for its sunsets. Oia's Sunset is just around the corner from the bus station, so you won't have to drag your baggage far. We had a lovely studio with air-conditioning and a little kitchen. There's a pool and breakfast if you pay extra. Sotiris, who runs the place, will give you a map and lots of advice. Oia was a beautiful place to stay on Santorini, and the best thing was not having to pile into a crowded bus after watching the sunset.