Santorini

    We’re sailing through the Mediterranean, south of Crete.  After setting sail from Barcelona, the shale cliffs of Corsica yielded to the shallow shoals of Sardinia, and from there we sped through the Tyrrhenian Sea, angled ourselves betwixt the Aeolian islands where Stromboli eternally salutes the mighty furnace of Etna, cruising our way through the strait of Messina, which wedges itself between the boot of Italy and the horn of Sicily.  The waves of the Ionian were sparkled by golden showers from the sun, and the magic of the watery causeway between Italy and Greece- the hearts of two of mankind’s greatest and most ancient civilizations- beckoned us forth to lands of promise and holy sanctity.  The first of the Grecian islands we reached was Cephalonia, which is the setting of Corelli’s Mandolin, one of my all-time favorite novels.  Then we sailed down the Peloponnese coast and into the imperium of Odysseus’ maritime world, at the heart of which rises from out the sea the thousands of islands of the Cyclades, foremost among them one of the greatest destinations in all the world: Santorini.  This pearl of the Mediterranean has blue-domed churches sitting high on the edges of cliffs that complement the clear skies and waters so well that you could swear they were polished orbs of jewelry worn by the ancient Gods.  In fact, the domes are topped with white crosses from Byzantium that so perfectly match the spotless white buildings that it almost looks as if the divinity of their color had promoted the pagan shades of blue to the monotheistic, chromatic oneness of white.  Sometimes, when the sun is setting down on those streets and the water is calmer than the shores of Innisfree, you can watch young lovers dining on the terraces and determine that they’ll never be more satisfied than they are now, that the grace of God has blessed them with an experience so paramount that the daughters of Poseidon longed to return from their constellation in the sky to that island where they’d lived as sea nymphs.  I only wish that I’d had her with me, that special someone, that person with whom moments like these could have been etched into our memories and preserved through the ages.