![]() ![]() ![]() Our glasses clink and the conversation flows freely. In the atmospheric dug-out wine bar of the hotel, a cornucopia of Santorinian wines await us, together with friends close to our heart. Fortune smiles on us, as it is open all year round, and it hosts us impeccably. Walking along the brow of the cliff, we pass through Fira, stopping to pay homage at the Museum of Prehistoric Thera, and continue onwards to Imerovigli, to the hotel Iliotopos. A glass of Assyrtiko here gazing at the breathtaking view is enough to turn anyone into a poet. The tasting hall is open and warm and welcoming. On the saddleback between Pyrgos and the road to Athinios one finds the facilities of Santo Wines. ![]() The pruned vines, woven into basket-like coils, were spread out on the ground – artworks of daily life waiting patiently for the spring to bring forth the first shoots and, gradually, the next harvest. And so later I walk and admire the vines, which at this time of year show their other side. In Pyrgos everything was shut, but I had come for a friendly visit to the winery of Haridimos Hatzidakis, which I had not yet managed to see with him since it was completed and became fully operational. The sea glistened in a waveless caldera, and the villages glowed in the sunshine – freshly washed by the recent rains and dried by the northerly breeze. ![]()
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