The (Real) Romance of Santorini

Recently, when Matt from LandLopers was in Alberta, he talked to several travelers who had ended up there because of digital marketing. It got me thinking about why I travel to the places I travel to.

In the case of Santorini, the responsibility is shouldered solely by Pinterest.

Santorini is a breath-taking place. From the first sight of Oia clinging to its cliff to its jeweled lights at night, my trip to Santorini is made up of a thousand treasured memories and a million jealousy-inducing photos. Eating waffles on the beach, drinking cappuccinos on the black beaches of Perissa, getting teased by a Greek mama, Santorini was everything I was promised.

But sometimes when you’re promised so much about the fantasy and romance of Santorini, it starts to feel a little bit… white-washed.

Maybe I first noticed it our second night there, when we spent the afternoon wandering around Oia. We had hoped to get a view of the much-acclaimed sunset during dinner but hadn’t made any reservations at the fancy terrace restaurants. While shopping, we asked a jewelry store owner on a whim if she had any recommendations. She looked concerned when we said we hadn’t made any reservations, hemmed and hawed a minute about our dismal prospects, then whipped a business card from a stack by her register and phoned up a nearby restaurant. Within minutes she had gotten us a table, which we felt was an extraordinary stroke of good luck. But when we showed up and ended up sharing the sunset with half a dozen other couples on a nearly empty terrace, I wondered just how the tourist expectations the romance of Santorini had been created – by actual demand or careful planning.

I have been to very touristy places – I work in Times Square – but when you look at Santorini you realize just how much it caters to your ideal experience (and the prices reflect it!). When we travel we try to go where the locals go, eat where the locals eat, try to get a glimpse into local life. Here on Santorini it seemed difficult. Boyfriend realized, and our host confirmed, there are very few children on the island. There are forty students in the one and only high school. Santorini is less of an authentic experience and more of a resort.

And it’s a beautiful, charming resort. Boyfriend and I drooled over the villas with private infinity pools. We indulged in fancy terrace dinners with only slight hesitation at the prices. And we watched every single sunset while we were there, planning them out to get as many different perspectives as possible. Maybe Santorini was selling me something, a prepackaged experience, but I was eager to buy it.

But the most romantic moments weren’t over sunset dinners or our postcard-worthy walks through Oia. They were teetering on our motorbike in the strong wind in twilight as we wound around along the cliff roads. Or each morning when Boyfriend made us Turkish coffee in our quiet apartment. Or when we entertained ourselves in ancient Akrotiri by making up ridiculous facts for each other — and another tourist actually stopped us to ask questions because she believed us!

So maybe it’s not Santorini, then, that’s romantic. Maybe it’s the result of a good photographer and an excellent marketing team. And even though I missed some things on Santorini, some ‘must-have’ experiences, I think next time I would skip it for Milos, recommended by a lovely postman who gave us a lift to the ferry. Or Naxos, whose little port city charmed the pants off me on the ferry. Or maybe an island even more remote and unknown to allow adventure, not white-washed houses, to romance me away.

What’s the most romantic place you’ve ever been to? What made it that?

Follow my blog with Bloglovin