Travel Photography, Writing and Photoblog from Matt Feldman

Amonstrous day of travel brought me from the Sahara desert oasis town of Tozeur back to the Mediterranean's capital of apathy and pissedoffedness: Athens, Greece. Or at least to the airport in Athens, which continues to defy logic by actually improving their (already nice) facilities. This free internet terminal is proof of advancement that even trickles down to backpackers. The most substantial new feature since my last visit is the wonderful train link between the airport and downtown, more efficiently whisking residents and masochists into the smoldering belly of the irate beast.

Could time and enhanced modernity and the learning curve of a million Olympic tourists have softened the deadly razor's edge of interpersonal Athenian communication into something more mellow, like maybe just a pummeling with a blunt object or a drive-by shooting? "Oh come ON! You've got to be kidding! Go over THERE!" barked the check-in agent at the airline counter marked ALL DESTINATIONS, where all those destinations do not seem to include mine and I'm summarily bounced to an unmarked counter hundreds of feet away that, clearly, I should have telepathically recognized. But, says the big overhead banner, "Athens Welcomes You."

The glistening Aegean Sea is smooth as glass and on the approach to land in Santorini, the plane skims Kamari beach with its tavernas and cliffs and umbrellas and volcanic rocks. Home, sweet home.

I've come back to Santorini with the intent to spend the week. There's no pretending, this time, that I can escape its epic pull and visit other islands. Joining me for my week will be Karol and Neill, Irish and Scottish guys, respectively, who I met here last year. They will be flying in later today, at which point we will find a place to stay. The duration of their visits, however, is enough to make me want to burn my return plane ticket. Karol is spending a few weeks, Neill plans to stay at least a month. There is no hiding my jealousy.

I board the bus from the airport and wind my way toward the main town, Fira. It's warm. Dry. Wonderful. Fields of vines and white stuccoed houses pass by. I know the bus route enough to recognize the changes since last year. As a devout vagabond, I have an unrelenting passion for the new and undiscovered, but this island resonates on a different level. There is great comfort in the familiarity of Santorini. And the contrast with my past week of travel is compounded when I realize how happy I am to be out of Tunisia.

While interesting and distinct and certainly worthwhile, I'm content to have left its persistent air of edgy aggression behind. I won't miss the absolutely punishing heat, either. Although I already pine for the amazingly delicious Merguez (sausage) sandwiches.

Which is convenient because my first culinary destination is the infamous Lucky's Souvlaki, the gravitational center of my gyros universe. There are other gyros shops vying for supremacy, of course. And some, like a beachfront taverna at Kamari, even have offerings to brag about. A typical North American gyros is shaved from a Spam-like slab and has a quality somewhere between unedible and awful. But at Lucky's, even on a bad day (should such a thing exist here), the gyros creations are nothing short of sublime. What a rebound.

Swimming a few hundred metres from the shore of Perivolous beach, I pause to look back to shore. The early evening sun is still warm and bright and soaking everything in a luxurious, golden hue. The water is calm and exquisitely refreshing after a day spent lounging on the sand. New friends and old friends alike relax on chairs and paddle around in the gentle swells, more buoyant than usual from the increased salinity of the Mediterranean. One of the nearby beach clubs throws music into the sky, loud enough that the danceable fusion of modern house and warm Afro-Cuban jazz rhythms extends all the way out here at the edge of the swimming area.

The island of Santorini is many things. But with each visit, the sum of those things seems to exert an even stronger attraction towards its shores. Santorini has come to define a vacation. For all the wandering I have done, this island remains one of the few places to which I eagerly return and dread leaving. Almost no other destination veers so dangerously close to perfection.

Somewhere on the island, I am sure there must be a tally of those who simply abandon plans to return home and adopt Santorini as their own. Judging by the sentiments of crowd assembled with me, that tally could easily grow by a few more. But in a few hours, however, my bags will be grudgingly packed and I will board a ferry bound for and Athens before flying on to Zurich and Baltimore.

In the meantime, work calls: I have a barbeque to get started.

This brings my final trip dispatch to a close. I'd hoped to write more and more often, but, well, you know. As always, thanks for reading and thanks for writing. Stay in touch, and stay on the road.