If you think Oia is spectacular by day, just wait till you finish dinner in a taverna and make your way back down those stairs. A full moon will light up the stairs below you, and if you pause to look around, you’ll see another side of Oia.
The moon glows above the caldera, casting a pathway across the water, and the white houses tumbling down the cliff face glow in the gentle light. Strings of light perch on tall cliffs along the tall circle of the island under a sky full of stars.
Tonight is Sunday, and there are only two things to be heard. Directly below, waves ebb and flow against the rocks at the water’s edge.
Above the waves, in the village, a priest chants, his Byzantine tones broadcast across the town from the church. His voice echoes across the water, sending a haunting song across the Aegean. Nightime in Oia is surreal; perfection.
The Oia you see in photos is always in the day: blinding sun bounces off perfect white and blue houses. But you have to be here to experience the night when there are no tourists to be heard, no music from the tavernas.
It’s like my secret Oia, just the waves and the song and the feel of the cool breeze against my face.