watching the sunset over the cliffs at oia.
oia is a delightful little village on the northern tip of santorini, perched high above the caldera far below. white-washed houses are tucked tightly into the cliffside just below the town itself, which is a warren of narrow, cobbled passageways – a jumble of homes, stores and restaurants, bursting with people who crowd the streets each evening to witness the spectacular sunset.
the most striking thing about greece, the secret to its unsurpassed beauty, lies not only in the pristine surroundings and picturesque architecture, but in the light itself. the light, so perfect and strong and clear, illuminates the land in a completely magical way. in the morning as the sun rises it sets the blue shutters and doors aglow with its cool, steely light. as it rises high in the day, the cloudless sky becomes a vivid shade of royal blue and the intense rays reflect off the white-washed buildings with a beautiful, almost blinding glare, everything in sight increasingly vivid and crisp. and later, when the afternoon sun begins to slip towards the horizon, the golden light spills across the land – reflecting off the water and dancing across the walls. just before the fiery ball is seemingly consumed by the ocean, its warmth turns even the whitest facades light pink and a deep orange glow is engulfs the island, the early evening light casting shadows across every wall…
no sooner does the sun sink away, then the moon rises – bright white, and pouring its luminance clear and strong onto the waters below: it shines a perfect white glow upon the streets, the sky fading from an sudden blue to deepest black.