There are many shops lining the streets of Oia. The trick is to get there before the tourists, as the sun is climbing but hasn’t yet reached its peak. It is peaceful now with only a small handful of wanderers. Merchants open their doors according to no particular schedule. Some are open while others are still dark on this morning. Each shop is more colorful than the next, yet somehow, the warmth of the sun, the signature whitewash and blue-tiled roofs of the Greek buildings are the overriding hues. A large dog lies prone in the sun of a shop doorway, his thumping tail the only indication of life as we stoop to pet him.
“He’s so sweet!” we tell the shop owner.
“That one,” she snorts with good humor. “He belongs to no one. He sleeps with the one who fed him last.”
We laugh, and she wishes us a good day.
We stop to lean over the wall and stare out over the blue of the water barely discernible from the blue of the sky. We try not to move. We try not to breath. We try to stop the earth from spinning on its axis.