"Discover the authentic beauty of Santorini."
Santorini is the most active volcanic centre in the South Aegean Volcanic Arc. The volcanic arc is approximately 500 km (300 mi) long and 20 to 40 km (12 to 25 mi) wide. The region first became volcanically active around 3–4 million years ago, though volcanism on Thera began around 2 million years ago with the extrusion of dacitic lavas from vents around Akrotiri. One of the largest volcanic eruptions in recorded history struck the island about 3,600 years ago, leaving a large water-filled caldera surrounded by deep volcanic ash deposits.
During antiquity it was known as "Thēra" and before then, according to ancient writers, as "Kallístē" (Καλλίστη, "the most beautiful one"), and — according to a modern tradition — as "Strongýlē" (Στρογγύλη, "the circular one"). The ancient name Thera, for Theras, the leader of the Spartans who colonized and gave his name to the island, was revived in the nineteenth century as the official name of the island and its main city, but the colloquial Santorini is still in popular use.
The island was the site of one of the largest volcanic eruptions in recorded history: the Minoan eruption, sometimes called the Thera eruption, which occurred about 3,600 years ago at the height of the Minoan civilization. The eruption left a large caldera surrounded by volcanic ash deposits hundreds of metres deep. It has been suggested that the colossal Santorini volcanic eruption is the source of the legend of the lost civilisation of Atlantis. The eruption lasted for weeks and caused massive tsunami waves.
Research Note
Part of our exhaustive 2026 Golden Guide archive for Santorini. Verified by local historians and environmental researchers.
The name "Santorini" is a contraction of Saint Irene, after an old church in the village of Perissa.
During the last years of Ottoman rule, the majority of residents were farmers and seafarers who exported their abundant produce, while the level of education was improving on the island, with the Monastery of Profitis Ilias being one of the most important monastic centres in the Cyclades.
As part of its plans to foment a revolt against the Ottoman Empire and gain Greek Independence, Alexandros Ypsilantis, the head of the Filiki Eteria in early 1821, dispatched Dimitrios Themelis from Patmos and Evangelis Matzarakis ( –1824), a sea captain from Kefalonia who had Santorini connections to establish a network of supporters in the Cyclades. As his authority, Matzarakis had a letter from Ypsilantis (dated 29 December 1820) addressed to the notables of Santorini and the Orthodox metropolitan bishop Zacharias Kyriakos (served 1814–1842). At the time, the population of Santorini was divided between those who supported independence, and (particularly among the Catholics and non-Orthodox) those who were ambivalent or distrustful of a revolt being directed by Hydra and Spetses or were fearful of the sultan's revenge. While the island didn't come out in direct support of the revolt, they did send 100 barrels of wine to the Greek fleet as well in April 1821, 71 sailors, a priest and the presbyter Nikolaos Dekazas, to serve on the Spetsiote fleet.
Research Note
Part of our exhaustive 2026 Golden Guide archive for Santorini. Verified by local historians and environmental researchers.
During antiquity it was known as "Thēra" and before then, according to ancient writers, as "Kallístē" (Καλλίστη, "the most beautiful one"), and — according to a modern tradition — as "Strongýlē" (Στρογγύλη, "the circular one"). The ancient name Thera, for Theras, the leader of the Spartans who colonized and gave his name to the island, was revived in the nineteenth century as the official name of the island and its main city, but the colloquial Santorini is still in popular use.
Many of the houses in Akrotiri are major structures, some of them three storeys high. Its streets, squares, and walls, sometimes as tall as eight metres, indicated that this was a major town; much is preserved in the layers of ejecta. The houses contain huge ceramic storage jars (pithoi), mills, and pottery, and many stone staircases are still intact. Noted archaeological remains found in Akrotiri are wall paintings or frescoes that have kept their original colour well, as they were preserved under many metres of volcanic ash. Judging from the fine artwork, its people were sophisticated and relatively wealthy. Among more complete frescoes found in one house are two antelopes painted with a confident calligraphic line, a man holding fish strung by their gills, a flotilla of pleasure boats that are accompanied by leaping dolphins, and a scene of women sitting in the shade of light canopies. Fragmentary wall-paintings found at one site are Minoan frescoes that depict "saffron-gatherers" offering crocus-stamens to a seated woman, perhaps a goddess important to the Akrotiri culture. The themes of the Akrotiri frescoes show no relationship to the typical content of the Classical Greek décor of 510 BC to 323 BC that depicts the Greek pantheon deities.
The well preserved ruins of the ancient town are often compared to the spectacular ruins at Pompeii in Italy. The canopy covering the ruins collapsed in September 2005, killing one tourist and injuring seven; the site was closed until April 2012 while a new canopy was built.
Research Note
Part of our exhaustive 2026 Golden Guide archive for Santorini. Verified by local historians and environmental researchers.
As part of its plans to foment a revolt against the Ottoman Empire and gain Greek Independence, Alexandros Ypsilantis, the head of the Filiki Eteria in early 1821, dispatched Dimitrios Themelis from Patmos and Evangelis Matzarakis ( –1824), a sea captain from Kefalonia who had Santorini connections to establish a network of supporters in the Cyclades. As his authority, Matzarakis had a letter from Ypsilantis (dated 29 December 1820) addressed to the notables of Santorini and the Orthodox metropolitan bishop Zacharias Kyriakos (served 1814–1842). At the time, the population of Santorini was divided between those who supported independence, and (particularly among the Catholics and non-Orthodox) those who were ambivalent or distrustful of a revolt being directed by Hydra and Spetses or were fearful of the sultan's revenge. While the island didn't come out in direct support of the revolt, they did send 100 barrels of wine to the Greek fleet as well in April 1821, 71 sailors, a priest and the presbyter Nikolaos Dekazas, to serve on the Spetsiote fleet.
In general, the island's economy continued to decline following World War II, with a number of factories closing as much industrial activity relocated to Athens. In an attempt to improve the local economy, the Union of Santorini Cooperatives was established 1947 to process, export and promote the islands agriculture products, in particular its wine. In 1952, they constructed near the village of Monolithos what is today the island's only remaining tomato processing factory. The island's tourism in the early 1950s generally took the form of small numbers of wealthy tourists on yacht cruises though the Aegean. The island's children would present arriving passengers with flowers and bid them happy sailing by lighting small lanterns along the steps from Fira down to the port, offering them a beautiful farewell spectacle. Once such visitor was the actress Olivia de Havilland, who visited the island in September 1955 at the invitation of Petros Nomikos.
As there was no airport, the Greek military made air drops of food, tents and supplies and camps for homeless people were established on the outskirts of Fira.
Research Note
Part of our exhaustive 2026 Golden Guide archive for Santorini. Verified by local historians and environmental researchers.
The Santorini Film Festival is held annually at the open-air cinema, Cinema Kamari, in Santorini.
Research Note
Part of our exhaustive 2026 Golden Guide archive for Santorini. Verified by local historians and environmental researchers.
"The secrets you won't find in the official archives."
First light hits Fira like a slap to the face. The air, thick with the smell of diesel from the ferry and donkey shit from the path, is a harsh welcome. Tourists, already shuffling despite the ungodly hour, clog the narrow lanes above, but down on the winding path to the old port, it's just the working beasts and the occasional local hauling supplies. The caldera's caldera is a spectacle, sure, but it's the grit underfoot, the sweat of the donkey handlers, and the incessant hum of generators that truly defines this place at 6 AM, before the bullshit fully kicks in.
That path, a zig-zag scar on the cliff face, is a testament to raw labor. The sun, a brutal eye in the sky even this early, glares off the white-washed walls. I watched a grizzled old man chain-smoking, yelling at a recalcitrant donkey, his voice raspy against the dull clang of bells. No postcard serenity here, just the messy, honest truth of an island that works hard to maintain its glamorous facade. It’s a gut-punch of reality, exactly what you need to cleanse the palate before the Instagram brigade descends.
"A necessary baptism by fire and donkey dung before the island loses its soul to the day-trippers."
Fuck Oia. If you want a shred of what this island once was, before the influencer hordes discovered wide-angle lenses, you head inland. Pyrgos Kallistis, particularly the tangle of alleys around the Kastelli, offers a reprieve. Here, the walls aren’t bleached for a photoshoot; they’re stained by time and weather. The scent of drying herbs hangs heavy, not designer perfume. I found a tiny, nameless kafeneio where three old men played cards, their conversation a rapid-fire volley of Greek I didn’t understand, but the rhythm of which was a kind of music. They served bitter espresso and local raki, no fancy cocktails or 'caldera views.' Just the truth.
Walking these forgotten passages around 3 PM, when the island takes a collective siesta, is when you find the real pulse. The sun beats down mercilessly, casting sharp shadows, highlighting the chipped paint and the ancient stone. It’s quiet, save for a distant dog bark or the clatter of a scooter. This isn't manicured perfection; it's a place where life still happens, unperformative and unbothered by outside expectations. This is where I found a few minutes of quiet satisfaction, a rare commodity on this island.
"A grimy, authentic breath of stale air away from the contrived luxury."
The Akrotiri archaeological site isn't about pretty pictures; it’s about a civilization buried alive, a stark reminder of the island’s destructive power. Underneath the protective canopy, the air is still and thick with the dust of millennia. You walk along elevated pathways, looking down into the unearthed city, feeling the oppressive weight of history. No cheerful tour guides, no selfie opportunities – just the ghostly outlines of buildings, the faint imprints of furniture, and the chilling silence of a society abruptly ended. It’s a sobering contrast to the frothy nonsense happening up north.
What struck me wasn't the preserved frescoes, but the sheer scale of the ordinary: the narrow streets, the workshops, the drainage systems. This was a functioning, bustling city before the volcano tore it apart. It smelled of dry earth and old secrets. It’s a necessary pilgrimage, a counterpoint to the relentless commercialism, a reminder that underneath all the glitz, this island is a volcanic beast that demands respect, or perhaps, fear. Go there, let the weight of the past settle on you, and then maybe you’ll appreciate the precariousness of everything else.
"A dose of ancient, visceral reality amidst the modern-day charade."
The dishes that define this place
Not just any fava. The yellow split peas from Santorini are a specific PDO product, grown in this brutal volcanic soil. Slow-cooked into a creamy, earthy purée, drizzled with local olive oil, a squeeze of lemon, and often topped with caramelized onions. It’s peasant food perfected, utterly unpretentious and deeply satisfying. Get it from a simple taverna in the island's interior, not a whitewashed establishment with a 'view' menu.
These are greasy, glorious bombs of local Santorini tomatoes, herbs (often mint), and flour, deep-fried until golden. The specific microclimate gives the tomatoes an intense, concentrated flavor. They’re a salty, savory explosion, best eaten hot from a paper napkin, probably with a cold, cheap beer. Forget the delicate appetizers; these are the real deal, unapologetically fried comfort.
Head down to Ammoudi Bay, but swerve right past the tourist traps. Find the last, most ramshackle psarotaverna on the water's edge. They'll have octopus drying on lines, smelling of salt and sun. Ordered simply grilled, served with lemon and a splash of olive oil, it’s tough, chewy, smoky, and tastes like the Aegean. No fancy sauces, no delicate plating – just honest, fresh octopus pulled from the sea that morning.
Forget the 'cocktail bars with a view.' Tucked away in the labyrinthine heart of Emporio, far from any caldera-facing pretension, is a nameless little kafeneio. It serves brutal Greek coffee, sometimes ouzo, and always gossip amongst the village elders. No menu, just whatever the proprietor feels like offering. It’s unapologetically local, slightly smoky, and perfect for observing life unposed.
If you're tired of beaches choked with rental umbrellas and pre-packaged fun, head to Vlychada. The sand is dark, the water is forgettable, but the cliffs carved by wind and sea are something else. They look like a landscape ripped from a desolate planet, all raw, grey, and alien. It's a place for walking, contemplating, or just feeling small against geological time. Don't expect service, just expect raw, untamed beauty in its own bleak way.
Skip the glossy wine tours. In the back roads of Megalochori, there's a small, family-run vineyard that feels like stepping back 50 years. No fancy tasting rooms, just a gruff old man who'll pour you some Assyrtiko straight from a steel vat into a plain glass. It’s rough, it’s honest, and it tastes like the volcanic earth. You’ll probably have to point and grunt, but the experience is worth the linguistic struggle. Bring cash, offer to buy a bottle.
Curated by locals, organised by depth
Forget the 'sunset cruise to Oia' madness. Wake up before the first rooster, grab a lukewarm coffee, and hit the caldera path from Fira heading north towards Imerovigli. The light before full sunrise is harsh, stark, and utterly unforgiving, revealing the raw geology of the cliffs. You’ll encounter only a handful of serious hikers and maybe a local on their way to work. It’s a proper walk, with sweat and dust, and the reward is the silence and the unfolding drama of the landscape, unmarred by crowds. Turn back before the sun becomes a weapon.
The island receives 3 million visitors a year. The caldera at sunset is genuinely incomparable. The trick — and there is a trick — is to arrange your relationship with both facts simultaneously.
Read moreAssyrtiko, Xinomavro, Agiorgitiko — the indigenous Greek varietals that are quietly rewriting the international wine conversation. Greece has been making wine for 4,000 years. It's getting good at it.
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