THIRTY-TWO
The morning sun peeked over the horizon, casting a soft golden glow across the caldera. It was early—too early for most people to be awake—but I had always preferred the quiet of a sunrise to the chaos of sunset. Oia, famous for its sunsets, was still asleep as I wandered its narrow streets. The paths felt like they belonged to another time, and the soft glow of the first light made everything look like a painting.
The Aegean Sea stretched out before me in hues of blue, the water calm and still as if it were holding its breath for the day to begin. I passed by whitewashed buildings, their blue shutters reflecting the light, and tiny boutiques still closed for the morning. The scent of salt and the faint hum of the distant waves mixed with the air, giving me a deep sense of peace.
I paused at a charming cafe that hadn’t yet opened, the scent of freshly ground coffee lingering in the air, and I couldn’t help but smile. This was the calm I had been looking for. The world wasn’t rushing by. It was just me, the sea, and the peaceful charm of Oia in the early hours. I found an open place and sat to enjoy breakfast.
With hours to fill before Lena’s arrival, I decided to explore one of Santorini’s more creative offerings. A local I’d met at breakfast had raved about a pottery studio tucked into the hillside near Pyrgos. The idea of creating something with my hands felt like the perfect way to pass the time, so I hopped into a taxi and made my way there.
The studio, called Keramos, was a quaint, sunlit space with wide windows overlooking the vineyards below. Inside, shelves were lined with delicate ceramic vases, bowls, and intricate figurines—all painted in the earthy blues and whites of the island. A woman named Eleni greeted me warmly, her hands already dusted with clay.
“You’ve come to get your hands dirty?”
she asked with a knowing smile.
I laughed. “That’s the idea. But fair warning—I’ve never done this before.”
“Even better,”
she said, ushering me to a wheel. “Sometimes beginners make the most beautiful pieces because they don’t try to control too much.”
Eleni guided me through the process, from molding the wet clay to centering it on the wheel. At first, my hands were clumsy, the spinning clay wobbling as I tried to shape it. But with Eleni’s encouragement and a lot of laughter, I started to get the hang of it.
By the time I was smoothing out the sides of what could generously be called a vase, a small group of tourists had joined the workshop. We shared stories and tips, marveling at how something so simple could feel so rewarding.
“You have a good touch,”
Eleni said as she inspected my work. “Not perfect, but it has character. Like Santorini itself.”
I smiled, feeling a quiet pride in my lopsided creation. It wasn’t about perfection—it was about the experience, the messiness of trying something new. And I certainly mastered messy.
After finishing the piece and leaving it to dry for painting later, I thanked Eleni and stepped back outside. The day had warmed, and the view of the caldera stretched endlessly before me.
On the way back to the hotel, I picked up a bottle of Assyrtiko wine from a nearby vineyard shop, imagining sharing it with Lena when she arrived. For now, I was content to stroll through the narrow paths of Pyrgos, marveling at the small, colorful details I’d overlooked before.
By the time I returned to my suite, I felt refreshed and inspired. The afternoon stretched before me, full of possibility. I couldn’t wait to see Lena and tell her about the morning’s adventure.
Lena: I’m almost there. Grabbing my Uber.
Me: I’ll be waiting.
When I finally saw Lena in the hotel lobby, I couldn’t contain myself. She was standing there with that smile of hers, and I ran toward her, my arms open wide. We screamed in excitement, embracing tightly like we hadn’t seen each other in years. “It’s been too long,”
she laughed, and I nodded in agreement. It felt like we were the only two people in the world, free to do whatever we wanted without any constraints. We were ready to party, to experience this place to its fullest, and to make memories we could take home.
We grabbed a quick lunch at a charming taverna and headed out to explore the island, ready to dive into the fun. I could feel the excitement bubbling up as we made our way to our first stop, Koo Club.
“I think I’m about to get my groove on, let’s see if Santorini can handle me,”
Lena teased, adjusting her sunglasses.
I laughed. “Oh, this place can definitely handle you. But don’t blame me if you end up making some questionable dance moves later.”
She rolled her eyes but was already scanning the crowd. “Just wait until I show you how it’s done.”
We settled at a high table, soaking in the open-air vibe, the sound of laughter mixing with the chill beats. Our cocktails arrived, vibrant and colorful.
“This is living, Charlie,”
Lena said, raising her glass. “Cheers to getting back to adventures.”
“Cheers to that,”
I agreed, clinking my glass against hers. “And no regrets—unless, of course, we wake up tomorrow and can’t remember any of this.”
“I’ll make sure you remember,”
Lena said with a grin, “but I can’t promise I’ll remember everything.”
As we sipped our drinks, I couldn’t help but smile at how easily we fell back into our old rhythm.
From Koo Club, we wandered to The Wine Bar, a cozy, tucked-away spot that was perfect for sampling the local Santorini wines. The sun was starting to dip lower, casting a warm golden glow over everything. We found a table near the edge, overlooking the caldera.
“Oh my God, Charlie, this is heaven,”
Lena sighed, gazing out at the view. “I could drink this wine forever. Where has it been all my life?”
“Probably hiding in the vineyards,”
I replied, laughing. “But now that you’ve found it, I’m sure it’ll be your new obsession.”
Lena gave me a knowing look. “It’s already a problem. Are we getting more?”
“I was going to say we should head to Two Brothers next, but if you want more wine…”
“Let’s do both,”
she said, grinning. “Because why not?”
We spent a few more hours at The Wine Bar, chatting about everything and nothing. I filled her in on the Luca details. She kept asking more and more questions.
Lena leaned forward, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. “So, tell me this—did he make you feel like you were the only woman in the room, or is he just that smooth with everyone? I need to know if he’s got that charm or if it’s just you he’s making melt.”
I couldn’t respond fast enough before she asked the next question. “He’s always smooth and charming.”
She shot me a teasing grin before continuing, “And wait, when you kissed him—was it slow and deep, or was it more of a you both can’t wait type of thing? Because I need to know what kind of romance we’re talking about here.”
“Lena, it’s fun…not really romance,”
trying to placate her insistence that I suddenly was the star in some romance flick like Anyone But You. I wouldn’t hate being in a romance movie with Glen Powell—he was spicy.
She paused, scanning my face for any sign of hesitation. “Oh, and don’t leave out the part where he makes you forget how to breathe. I can tell there’s more to this story! I need every detail, no matter how small or embarrassing!”
I gave her some details and showed her another picture we took in Ravello—she seemed pacified (for the moment).
We headed to Fira. As soon as we stepped into Two Brothers Bar, the energy shifted. The place was alive, packed with people dancing, laughing, and having a good time. Local DJs spun tracks that made it impossible to sit still.
“This place is electric!”
Lena shouted over the music, her eyes shining with excitement.
“Only the best for you, darling,”
I teased, pulling her toward the dance floor. “Let’s show them how it’s done.”
We danced our hearts out, our laughter blending with the music, and the view of the caldera in the background made everything feel even more magical. I’m positive we kissed more than our share of random people. As the night wore on, I felt so grateful for this time—so alive in a way that only the right people and the right places could make me feel.
At some point in the night, I realized I had lost my shoes. “Lena, where the hell are my shoes?”
I asked, looking around in bewilderment.
“How can you lose your shoes?”
she replied, laughing hysterically. “They were literally on your feet!”
“But now, they are not,”
I said, shaking my head in disbelief.
“I fear they are lost forever, and we shall need to hold a service for them, a celebration of life,”
Lena declared solemnly, before bursting into laughter.
“To the barely worn Christian Louboutin heels, we will never see the red soles peeking as Charlie walks too quickly ahead because she is either about to pee her pants or is following snacks,”
Lena said, mock-seriously.
“Rude!”
I replied, playfully swatting her.
“It’s ridiculously obvious to me now that you make way too much money to casually lose $800 heels,”
Lena continued. “I think maybe we need to focus on opening the closet door to the one person who has loved you unequivocally since the 6th grade. Oh, that’s me. I want access to your closet!”
We couldn’t stop laughing, the absurdity of the situation and our over-the-top reactions making it all the more hilarious. It had been a day filled with fun, laughter, and unforgettable moments.
As we stumbled back toward the hotel, our cheeks flushed from the wine and dancing, Lena slung an arm around me. “This trip is too good to be true. I’m glad I came. I don’t know how I’m going to leave.”
I smiled, my heart full. “You’ll have to pry me out of Santorini first, but we’re not there yet.”
The hotel loomed ahead, and Lena looked up at it, eyes wide. “Charlie, this place is incredible!”
We made our way upstairs, chatting non-stop as I led her to our suite. I could tell she was already falling in love with the island—and with the perfect way to cap off a day in Santorini.
“Well, this is a hell of a start to our adventure,”
Lena said, flopping onto the bed as I set down my bag. “We need more days like this.”
I laughed and sat down next to her. “Agreed. And don’t worry—this is only day one. We’ve got plenty more to go.”