Iconic Santorini

I’m in a cave Jacuzzi; sunlight is dancing across the whitewashed roof, and below it I’m floating happily in bubbles, post massage. My skin is soft, and my head is light with the scent of lavender, grown in Greece and blended into oil by a holistic company called Aptiva, which means ‘life of the bee’...

There aren’t many bees in Santorini – or so our waiter tells us at breakfast as he serves us exquisite honey made by the few bees that do live on the volcanic island. That morning we’d woken in the cosiest bed imaginable; made from coconut fibres and covered in soft, downy pillows with crisp white cotton sheets. We’d called reception to say we were awake – ‘Great! Breakfast is on its way’.

Opening the door of our suite we had been greeted by dazzling sunshine, the deep-blue Aegean and all shades of cerulean. I wrapped myself in the soft silk-and-linen sarong draped over a chair in our room and took five steps from the bed, to our balcony decorated with olive trees, pots of lavender and sun beds decked in navy cushions and white umbrellas. I gazed happily around me.

Herodotus says Santorini was originally called Strongyle, meaning round; later it was called Kalliste ‘most beautiful’. In 1913 BC it was blown apart by a volcanic eruption and parts of the islands crumbled beneath the Aegean, leaving the island in its current crescent-moon shape. In the middle is the ocean, dotted white billowing sails and tips of the now hibernating volcano, which peek out as islands. This blue lagoon is called the caldera, and the first time I saw it I felt as though I was in a new dimension. We can’t stop looking at it all holiday.

The waiter enters our blue world, laden with perfectly poached eggs, croissants with homemade jams, delicious Greek yoghurt and precious Santorini honey, which is rich, sweet and the colour of sunshine. It goes perfectly with nectarines and strawberries.

Mr Smith paces the balcony assessing wind and weather conditions: we decide to go out sailing on the caldera that afternoon. I while away the morning with a massage and lazing about in a cave hot tub, until we join a honeymooning couple from New Jersey and jump aboard a catamaran. We kick back on deck as our captain sets sail in search of swimming spots around the island; we go for the Red beach (so called due to its colour from the iron), and the white beach (because of the limestone) and a dip in the hot springs near the volcanic islands.

The only person living on the islands is a hermit, who lives with his sheep and chickens and is said to offer massages to passing day visitors. I want to go there, but our captain says, ‘I wouldn’t!’ He also tells us the hermit sometimes turns up with goat’s milk and swaps it for a beer.

As the sun sinks towards the ocean we drop anchor and our crew cook up a delicious traditional supper of grilled fresh prawns, calamari, Greek salad and lots of crisp white wine.

We look up at the villages of Santorini, 300 metres above the ocean, spread on top of the dark volcanic rock. They look like icing sugar on top of a cake. Iconic is now just a speck on the cliffside in the village of Imerovigli, about half way around the bow of the island.

It is dark by the time we got back to our cosy room. We go for a quick splash in our private grotto pool dug out of the rock below our bedroom. Mr Smith is particularly enamoured with the remote-control candles.

Upstairs in bed I read some of Aesop’s Fables – the hotel has left a copy of the book in our room. They must like the philosopher, because as a nightly treat they leave biscuits alongside one of his quotations (we got ‘When all is said and done, nothing is said or done’) and the bathroom is stuffed with Aesop products in his honour.

The next day we sunbathe and swim in the saltwater infinity pool. Sometimes we sit in two seats, in the water, at the end of the pool, with fresh watermelon juices in hand. I usually read piles of books on holiday, but in Santorini I feel like I’m missing out whenever I pick one up.

At dusk, I walk through the village to Skaros, a rocky peninsula that juts out of the island. It was a mediaeval fortress back in the day, until a series of earthquakes destroyed it. Now there is only one church (one of 365 on the island), and a tiny chapel just beside the path that leads onto the rock, where I saw a bride having her photo taken. Santorini seems to be the place for weddings or at least being papped in your dress. I climb the rock to watch the sun go down; where to watch it is much debated on Santorini – it’s as sunset-y as you can get all over the island, but it’s fun to get new angles on perfection.

Sunset fully appreciated, I walk back to Iconic and notice how many people have written their names on the rock – I decide to join them. I write a big ‘THANK YOU!’ too because truly, Santorini is incredible. Do go, right away. The moment you arrive at Iconic and see the view over the caldera, your soul will start dancing with pleasure.