Santorini is the most beautiful place I’ve visited. I’ve heard it told that the color of the water surrounding Greece and her islands is like no other on the planet. Photographs don’t do it justice. Different hues created by the varying depths of the valleys under the surface make it look like a water color study in blue. It’s the product of the violence that Mother Earth can sometimes inflict, wreaking cataclysmic destruction, but when the dust settles and the land heals, a garden of Eden is born.

Santorini, whose proper name is Thira, is the southern most member of a group of islands in the Aegean known as the Cyclades. It’s a tiny cluster of four islands made up of a crescent shaped ridge with three islands in its interior, remnants of a composite volcano, the largest and most destructive type where a magma chamber under the surface relieving pressure explodes and falls in on itself, creating an enormous bowl shaped structure called a caldera. Santorini is such a structure, its western portion collapsed allowing seawater to flow into the center. The result is a glorious combination of volcanic cliffs and brilliant blue sea. Rent a car for one day and you can circumnavigate it from one end to the other, fitting little excursions throughout the day and still have time to catch a glorious sunset at one of Ia’s many cafés on the Northern tip of the island.

We took a day to walk all the way to Ia (pronounced EE-ya), the upper third of the island, and the effort was spectacularly gratifying. Walking Northward, as the clusters of whitewashed hotels and villas fell away behind us, we were greeted by vibrant wildflowers framed by ancient volcanic stone walls, terraces that I imagine once held the bounty of past Grecian societies–perhaps Venetian or Turkish, being former occupiers of this bewitching crater–but that now nourish the seeds of dozens of wildflowers and whispers of bygone eras. We continued onward, passing desolate rocky cliff faces with nothing to grab onto if the unsteady gravel happened to give way under our feet. We climbed up narrow dirt paths lined by black stones that had fallen from the mountain above us, evidence of the once volatile movement of this island, to come around a bend and be almost tackled by the winds of the Aegean blasting over a ridge that afforded us a breathtaking view of both sides of the island. The only thing keeping us from staying for a while and taking it all in were the brutal winds. We continued on until we reached the leeward side of the ridge where we could rest from the beating we’d just taken. The rest of the trail was as magnificent, always changing, always challenging. Reaching Ia was a relief–we were tired, hungry, and had gone through our water. Still, I wanted to walk back, experience all of it again, be dazzled and inspired anew. But our wariness and our full bellies got the best of us, and we decided to take a taxi back to our little cave house.

We’re enjoying our stay here. Every evening we get a spectacular show of colors as the sun sinks behind Nisos Thirasia. When the light fades and night envelopes the sky, stars come out with a stark clarity. Morning comes and we are reminded of how incredibly lucky we are. To be here. To be able to move around the planet with such ease and see other landscapes, other seascapes, other miracles. To be reawakened by our senses.

It took a 2 hour car ride to the airport, an 8 hour red-eye to Madrid, a 3 hour flight to Athens, many failed attempts at sleeping, and all the waiting time in between, but we finally got to Greece. Up to this point, we’ve been fortunate enough to avoid the pain of jet-lag, traveling to places in time zones only an hour or two ahead of California. The 10 hour time difference knocked all of us for a loop. Despite efforts to acclimate quickly by not napping during the day, going to bed at a reasonable hour, eating meals at normal times, going out and getting moderate exercise during the day, it still took us a full week to stop waking in the middle of the night (even with the help of Melatonin) and not feeling dog tired the first half of every day. The first few mornings, it took everything bit of will power not miss breakfast at the hotel restaurant, trying not to show up with our clothes inside out. I can’t recall ever being so tired for so long.

I’d always heard that Athens, despite its glorious history, had become a congested and polluted city, unpleasant and not recommended to visit. Something changed that. In 2002, Athens was the host city for the Olympics, and the government took the opportunity to make some profound changes. To prepare, construction was completed at baffling speed and in unprecedented amounts for the country’s history. The clean up effort was immense. It’s obvious to me that those changes were taken to heart, because I did not encounter the pollution and congestion I heard about. Athens is a big city and, as such, has traffic. As an old city, it has narrow roads and tiny cars to navigate those roads. It still doesn’t come close to LA’s 405 freeway at rush-hour. The subway was impeccably clean, and some stations have art and replicas of ancient artifacts with historic information on display. I was impressed. The only thing that disappointed me was the city planners’ lack of foresight in handing out permits for what seems like an obsession to build 1970s themed apartment buildings, all with the same lack of character or unique design, street after street, block after block. We still had a good time, and we enjoyed the ruins. Even though we were warned of pick-pocketers, we were never bothered. Once again, I was reminded of how much I enjoy being in a big city.

We visited the Acropolis on our second day here. A stone structure that appears to have erupted out of the ground eons ago, it proudly displays the Parthenon, built as a temple to honor the goddess Athena. Accompanying the Parthenon are other temples to other gods, but the Parthenon is the crown jewel, and in its time it was the largest and most admired of all the temples on and surrounding the Acropolis. At night, we had the good fortune of dining just a short distance away so that we could admire it like an illuminated jewel on display for all to see. Even though it has taken its beatings through the passing of time, from nature’s sometimes violent movement, from thieves looting, from conquerors’ callous maneuvers in war, changes inherent in occupation– through all this, it has remained regal and stunning, still demonstrating the genius of its architects. Experts are still in awe of the way it was built. They have been rebuilding part of it to maintain structural integrity of what remains and to demonstrate, in part, how it looked before its demise. Those new additions, the white marble originally used, can be easily seen in subtle but visible contrast to the ruin itself, which has yellowed with time. They’ve done a remarkable job of filling in the gaps with care and precision. In studying the Parthenon, they discovered that not a single section of the columns (of what remains) matches another section, so reconstruction has required painstaking research. They also found that the shape of the columns, how each one tapers toward the roof, gives the impression of exaggerated height and a feeling of movement to the whole structure. Fascinating. We completed our visit with some quiet time for the kids to ponder what they were seeing and write down their thoughts. In doing so, my husband finally had the chance to fulfill his dream of studying the Acropolis while sitting at the steps of the Parthenon. It was almost like traveling back in time. I couldn’t help but imagine being in the same place 2,000 years ago, wearing a toga and sandals, holding scrolls under an arm, or bringing my offerings for the goddess.