Oía on the Caldera

There is one particular view that most people come to Oía for: the white houses cascading down the cliff in terraces, blue domes and a few old windmills scattered between them, and beyond it the wide, deep-blue caldera. I had seen it countless times in photographs, and still wasn’t prepared for how much it works in reality.

The caldera itself is what remains of an enormous volcanic eruption that blew half the island into the sea more than 3,500 years ago. What looks today like an idyllic bay is in truth the flooded crater - and the villages cling to the very edge of the drop, as if they had dug in there over the centuries.

For photography, Oía is a feast of white against blue, of light and hard shadow. I let myself drift through it in the late afternoon, when the sun sat lower and the edges of the houses turned soft. Every lane opens a new frame, every staircase a new view of the sea.

No wonder this place is photographed so often - and yet every image feels as if you had only just discovered it yourself.