But repose was what I sought. And in Oia it was possible to find privacy and solitude, as well as unmarred vistas of the sea. [...] I loved the simplicity and intimacy of the Chelidonia villas, as well as the care taken by the owners over detail, despite their keeping a respectful distance. When I needed a new clothesline, Erika told her husband to make sure it could be taken down so as not to mar the view. "Erika," he intoned, "This is Greece. He doesn't need one that can be taken down." But when I came home that night, after walking the five-mile ridge from Oia to Fira, I noticed it indeed had hooks so that, when not in use, the line could be removed.

Having experienced the cliche for four days from the panoramic terrace of a modern cave house at Chelidonia villas, I must say the view is as timelessly stunning as the Atlantic Ocean and as mesmerizing as it must have been in the years before photos and cruise ships made the island a highly popular destination. [...] Our villa proved a perfect blend of comfort and simplicity, neither posh nor lacking in any way. Its private terrace, sitting some 250 feet above the Aegean, provided the most breathtaking view - over the sea, Oia and nearly the entire west coast of the island - I have ever enjoyed from a lodging in the 50-odd countries and 46 states of my travels.

While Santorini is home to 14,000 people, 500,000 tourists call this island home for a few days every year. And why not? The Cyclades' southern-most island, Santorini is said to have the best sunsets, one-of-a-kind white-, red- and black-sand beaches as well as a large caldera, the result of one of the world's biggest volcanic eruptions. The volcano's last upsurge was in 1956, which devastated the village of Oia and buried what is now Chelidonia Villas. Excavated and restored in the early 1980s, Chelidonia's nine villas, better described as cave homes, opened to the public in 1986. The caves date back to the Middle Ages and each differs in size and structure depending on who built them. (...)

"We enter and see tables strewn with food: spicy sprigs of arugula, whole, fried sardine-like fish and bowls of a green paste made with garlic and other herbs, loaves of bread. A gnarled, hairy man with a denim peasant cap gets up and begins to dance, snapping his fingers. I thought only Zorba the Greek did this. Then a barrel is opened and more wine is given all around. "YAMAS!" we all toast. And we see where they crush the grapes in the corner and learn how he makes his wine, not to sell, just to share with his friends. Then a man walks into the revelry with a dead rabbit and plops it in front of me on the table. No one flinches and the owner of the house and wine cellar begins to pet it. Patricio says, "I've never felt a dead rabbit," and he pets it. And then a box of pastries is opened up next to it and baklava and other nutty sweet confections are passed around. It's late and we're drunk and happy."