‘That’s true,’ she says. ‘I’m dreading leaving this sunshine behind.’
Our driver knowledgably points out places of interest as we travel, including the remains of old villages destroyed in the earthquake, and the names of pretty little white churches set back in the hills.
Eventually, we climb out of the Jeep and I stand in front of the Profitis Ilias that seems to be almost touching the clouds.
Pushing open the heavy wooden door of the church and stepping inside, I feel the sense of thousands of years of history wash over me. There is a faint smell of incense, along with candle wax from candles burning gently in a copper stand. A lady wearing a black-lace veil sits in one of the dark wooden pews, her hands joined in prayer.
‘Oh wow this is beautiful,’ whispers Lulu as we glance around. A huge stained-glass window behind an altar at the far end of the church casts light into the dark space.
I always feel a sense of peace in such places and take a candle from a box, and light one for my grandad, the funniest man I have ever known, who passed away three years ago.
Outside, I take some photos, including a selfie, standing alongside the Jeep and with a view across a valley.
‘I’m sure your social media will go wild when they see your photos from Santorini,’ says Lulu as we walk.
‘I hope so.’
I think she might be right as the posts I have uploaded up to now have had thousands of views.
‘Imagine being able to make a living from your social media?’ says Lulu. ‘Although I do hope you would still take on some singing jobs. You should never waste your talent,’ she tells me as we stand on top of the hill taking in the vista.
‘Ideally I could combine the two, but I think I am still a long way from earning any real money through social media, although my followers are growing,’ I tell her.
‘But you do get recognised.’ She nods towards the couple from the plane, who are walking towards us.
‘That rarely happens, but yes, I guess so.’ I smile.
‘And an awful lot of freebies too,’ Lulu reminds me, so I guess I am pretty fortunate in that respect. ‘But I know you work hard on your content to make that happen,’ she acknowledges.
‘I do, and all the really highly successful influencers must have worked so hard to get to where they are too. It doesn’t come easy,’ I tell her, thinking of the hours and hours I have spent making and uploading videos and sharing content, yet I still only have a fraction of the followers they have. The free gifts and invitations are coming though, so I guess I need to just keep going.
Soon enough, we have jumped back in the Jeep and are making our way towards Red Beach, where we will make a quick stop to look at the windmills of Emporio.
Passing peasant houses with goats in the front gardens, and nearby allotments growing vegetables, I idly think of what Christos would make of this environment. The lifestyle of the villagers is a far cry from the flashy nightclubs and luxurious yachts he frequents. And even though I like those things too, there is such a calmness and feeling of authenticity about being here that I can’t help but find it completely charming.
Stopping at the windmills that date back to the nineteenth century, some intact, others in ruins, we explore the remnants of the ancient village, and admire the endless sea and mountain views.
Our driver tells us knowledgeably that the windmills were once owned by a wealthy landowner who wanted to produce wheat, the location being perfect to power the mills with its highwinds. They became obsolete in the twentieth century, with the onset of modern machinery.
I take a couple of selfies and a few with Lulu in front of the windmills before we move on.
Outside a village house, we spot some home-made olive oil and ouzo for sale, displayed on a wooden stand. We both make a purchase, much to the gratitude of the seller.
‘What a way to see the real Santorini,’ says Lulu as we climb back in the Jeep and are driven along, sometimes on rocky, single-track roads where we are gently lifted from our seat.
‘It’s wonderful, isn’t it? Although Christos was saying that the locals don’t always appreciate the tourists.’
‘I think those locals appreciated us,’ says Lulu, lifting her bag of organic olive oil and two jars of local honey.
‘I think he was referring more to the residents of the congested areas. Andreas in the shop mentioned the ships and how they descend in huge numbers too.’
‘Surely it’s good for business though?’
‘That’s what I thought, which I guess it is, but he said he wished people visited more in the spring and autumn rather than descending all at once in the summer months, as it’s kinder to the infrastructure.’
‘I get that. Although I guess if you have a beautiful island everyone is going to want to admire it in the sunshine,’ she reasons, and I think that is probably true.
Stopping for refreshments a short while later, we order ice cold frappes and I think of how little time I have left here in Santorini. It occurs to me then that I don’t really have anything to rush home for. I have no job, and I am living with my parents. Then again, my spends have almost run out and I could never have been here without the accommodation being paid for. Iquickly check my emails on my phone to see if there is any news about the jobs I have applied for, but there is nothing forthcoming.
