Prey to the Elements in Santorini

Toeing the edge, I fill my lungs with oxygen before I dive into the deep ominous waters of the Mediterranean. The icy water shocks my system and freezes my limbs with the realization of my vulnerable state, meters below the surface. The water drags me down with the weight of its past. Has someone fallen unconscious here? How many ships lie dormant under these waves? What if I lose the fight against the current and become forever submerged? It's a haunting world we live in after all. Plagued by history but also living through history.

Finding strength from within to fight these demons, my natural compass leads me towards the surface. Emerging from the water I find relief for my lunges, instantly filling with a welcome guest, air. My senses reform at a snail’s pace. The utter chaos amid the waves, push and pull me further away from any sense of stability. Water slaps against the hull of the ship, arms plunge into the water to propel bodies forward, and distant laughter in-between spurts of coughing. I rub my lips together only to find granules of salt burrowing within chapped cracks. My tongue sneaks out due to curiosity, only to find myself irrevocably thirsty despite being surrounded by water. The saltwater hangs in the air and inebriates my sense of smell. As I slowly pry my eyes open the sun threatens to blind me before I can comprehend the landscape laid out before me.

I map my surroundings before moving. Before me floats the wooden ship from which I have just jumped. A blue and white schooner with dark lacquered wood and rigging beyond my own comprehension. One may call it a pirate ship at a moment’s glance. Past the boat’s silhouette I spy in the distance Oia, a coastal town with whitewashed houses and colorful rooftops carved into the cliffs of a rugged island. To my right resides the vast Thólos Naftílos, an active volcano nestled in the center of the islands it formed, now called Santorini, a small circular archipelago of islands in the southern Aegean Sea. To my left, the destination of my journey, sits the Palea Kameni Hot Spring in the alcove of an island.

It never really sinks in. The fact that I’m traveling throughout Europe, island hopping the Greek Isles. Everything is a pinch-me moment but I’m in too deep to realize it. For the first time in my life, I’m living in the present.

Sinking back into the now, I begin swimming towards the hot spring, trailing after my travel companions. I’m Icarus craving the warmth of the sun, gravitating towards the comforting heat instinctually offers me. Warm currents seep through the icy water and crawl along my skin propelling me forward with increasing vigor. As I swim closer, the ocean floor rises with me until I can eventually drag my toes along the rocks below. Some grate on the soles of my feet begging to find purchase in soft flesh. Others are worn smooth, covered in slippery algae that repels human touch.

Warmth seeps into my soul, clears my mind of all thoughts, begging for a moment of unconscious respite as if I were an egg in an incubator. It’s instinct that leads me to float on my back. The water is tranquilizing, lightly lapping against my body as if I were the island of Santorini. A concrete, immovable object created by hot magma from the earth’s very core. Impenetrable. Beautiful. One of nature’s creations. The world exists around me, but nothing can affect me apart from mother nature.

I float despite gravity. Ears submerged; all sounds appear distorted as if the ocean has offered to protect me from reality. I bask in the early November sun high in the sky, letting it burn away my last layer of sunscreen as if skin cancer doesn’t exist. My thoughts fleeting with the clouds in the sky as I float in and out of consciousness. Maybe it’s the lack of homework, or the devil may care attitude I’ve acquired while abroad, but I have yet to form a crease in my brow this week. It feels like the height of luxury and vulnerability. Letting the world revolve around you carefree. How will I ever leave?

Eventually, I find strength from within, resolving to stand up. Finding my footing proves difficult with slippery, slimy rocks underfoot. Like a curious toddler, I roll onto my back and bring my foot above water for further inspection. Deep autumn orange algae stains the sole of my foot. Curiosity takes over, causing me to inspect my other foot which I find equally infested with orange algae. Upon further inspection, I discover my body is slightly tinted orange along with the water I’m partially submerged in. By walking on the shallow ocean floor of the hot spring I kicked up an orange mineral found in the algae. There is no smell, and I don’t dare taste it, but it managed to stain my skin like a premature Oompa Loompa. My mind was no longer lost in a silent haze, as laughter instinctually burst from me. A rather spiritual experience left an unwarranted physical imprint on my body.

Scanning the individuals around me I discover I’m not the only one transfixed by this spiritual experience. Radiant eyes, abundant dimples, harmonious laughter, and unbridled smiles flourish on faces throughout the hot spring. We’re all orange kids in a candy store, reunited with the simplicity of childhood. Caught up in the magic of the moment, unaware of the rarity at hand. It’s all a vivid haze we’ll miss and look upon dearly years from now.

It's the abrupt nature of a bell that wakes me from my stupor. “Now remember, when you hear the horn that means it’s time to swim back to the boat,” I recall the captain saying after dropping the anchor. Instantly, my eyes search for the boat, my ticket back to reality. She sways among the waves, further than I anticipated. The moment I try to gain footing, I slip, flailing in the water struggling to regain composure. I’m exposed by my insecurity, searching to make sure nobody saw my clumsiness. I favor the water over the deceitful ground hidden below, opting to make my way through the sea with a simple backstroke, minus the arms.

The peaceful water of the hot spring gives way to the unforgiving nature of the cold, open sea. I’m prey, fallen victim to the ruthless ocean waves. As if Triton was issuing me a challenge. A test of strength, and the backstroke doesn’t stand a chance against the ocean's fast-changing temperament. Survival instincts kick in as I roll onto my front sealing my mouth and closing my eyes as I fight the current with a haphazard breaststroke. Poseidon taunts me as the wind and waves cackle. Saltwater threatens to fill my lunges as I start to lose steam. Persistence and pride keep me afloat, screaming louder than the lost souls drifting below me. How could something so beautiful be so deadly? Innocent waves cleverly hide the malicious intent hidden in these waters. Unlike Icarus, I will not fall prey to the elements. This will not be my final destination.

I was naive, letting the picturesque hot spring lure me into its lair, captivate me with its spiritual serenity that made me long to stay forever. Like a siren does to a sailor. Without the bell to wake me, I could have been lost forever in a state of divine existence. Left floating for eternity. Just another island in Santorini.

I escape through sheer luck. In the moment of battle, it seemed mother nature had done her worst. Rain clouds gathered, wind swept in, and the ocean acted as gravity opposite to my Sisyphus. Yet the moment my feet touch the lacquered wooden deck of the ship the storm clouds give way to the sun’s rays. As if nothing happened. As if it was all a ruse. A figment of my imagination. The distant hot spring mocks me with its beauty. The waves lapping against the hull, tell me, “No one will ever believe you.”

My mind doesn’t dare speak, doesn’t dare acknowledge the moment. Not while I’m still floating above the belly of the beast. Who knows what it’s capable of? I seek comfort in a towel, wrapping it around myself as if it were the golden fleece capable of cleansing me. I sit silently, lost in a daze, letting water bead on my skin, trail down my legs, and dry as salt crystals in my tangled hair. The orange minerals dyed my blue swimsuit a dark murky green. My skin itches at the thought of salt crystals clinging to my hair, minerals bleeding into my skin and swimsuit, water nestling into any nook and cranny. Desperate to rid myself of the hot spring, I vigorously scrub my body with the rough towel. I imagine its sandpaper revealing a fresh, pure layer of skin untouched by the Mediterranean. The Aegean. The same ocean Aphrodite emerged from.

There’s something in the air here. The waves and soil. A heartbeat below the surface that I try to write off as a part of my imagination, but the Greeks have their myths. The lure of the water, wails of the wind, and weight of gravity beneath the waves calls upon my memories of mythology. I may be able to wash away the minerals from my skin, but this feeling will remain. This pervasive gut feeling that the air I breathe, cobblestones I wander, and water I tread are all saturated with the weight of history. Regardless of whether myths hold a grain of truth, I find myself staring into the waves expecting signs of sirens, nereids, and hippocampi. These waters bore the Argo and consumed Icarus, but unlike some Greek tragedies, I emerged physically unscathed. Mentally I’ll never be the same, forever changed by these sapphire seas.

Greek Mythology Glossary

Icarus: Son of the famous craftsman Daedalus, Icarus was imprisoned with his father on the island of Crete by the King Minos of Crete. To escape, Daedalus fashioned two pairs of wings made from wax and feathers for Icarus and himself. Daedalus warned Icarus not to fly too close to the sun for the wax would melt, and not too close to the sea for the seawater would wet the feathers. They escaped but Icarus forgot his father’s instructions and gravitated toward the warmth of the sun. The wax melted, his wings fell apart, he fell into the sea and drowned.

Triton: As the son of Poseidon and Amphitrite, Triton is a merman and the messenger god of the sea who uses a conch shell to control the waves as he desires.

Poseidon: As the Greek God of the sea, Poseidon is known to ride in a chariot and wield his famous trident. He is said to reside in the Aegean Sea, ruling over the Sea, Earthquakes, Floods, Storms, and Horses.

Sirens: Half bird, half-women creatures known for luring sailors into disaster with their entrancing singing voices. Odysseus escaped the sirens by plugging his crews’ ears with wax to remain deaf to the Sirens.

Sisyphus: Known as a trickster and master thief, he cheated Death (Thanatos), but in doing so he angered Zeus. Fed up with his tricks, Zeus punished him with the impossible task of rolling a boulder up a mountain. Every time he would reach the top, the boulder would roll back down.

The Golden Fleece: The fleece of the golden ram was the greatest desire for Jason who led the Argonauts. It’s a magical artifact known for its powerful healing abilities.

Aphrodite: The Greek goddess of love and beauty, was born from the sea foam produced by the severed genitals of Uranus.

Nereids: Exactly fifty sea-nymph daughters of Nereus and Doris that live in the Aegean Sea. They help sailors when faced with ferocious storms.

Hippocampus: The horses of Poseidon with the upper body of a horse, and the lower body of a fish.

Argo: A ship built with help from the gods, that later sailed Jason and the Argonauts on their quest to retrieve the golden fleece.