“To the eye, it’s unmistakable,” writes the author of a recent CNN travel article. “It’s the world-famous holiday destination of Santorini, Greece.”
But, it turns out, the eye is mistaken after all. The destination in question is actually a luxury resort in the desert outside Abu Dhabi, one where the architecture deliberately imitates the domed roofs and white walls of Santorini, and the waters of the Persian Gulf stand in for the blue Mediterranean
As far as tourism gimmicks go, this one is fairly standard. Nobody who has visited the imitation Eiffel Tower in Las Vegas will be shocked by the idea of one famous tourist attraction copying another. This isn’t even the first imitation of Santorini: the Times of India recently described another “picture-perfect replica” of Santorini in China, this one a resort set on the shores of a lake in Yunnan province. The Times casually suggests that the whitewashed buildings “offer an authentic Santorini experience” to those who are not able to visit the original. The word “authentic” might have lost some meaning in recent years, but this usage feels particularly wrong. Is it? Maybe that depends on what qualifies as an authentic Santorini experience.
Half a century ago, the island was a tough place to scrape out a living: it was blessed with fertile volcanic soil and warm weather, but not much else. Two world wars and a devastating 1956 earthquake shriveled the population as successive generations fled for better opportunities elsewhere. The remaining elders hung on in their small stone homes, living in labyrinthine hilltop clusters constructed centuries earlier by residents desperate to defend themselves from marauding pirates. The walls of the houses were coated with limewash in an attempt to reflect the harsh summer heat, and, some theorize, to help repel disease and pests. As late as 1978, writer Lawrence Durrell described Santorini as an island haunted by vampires and ghosts, its volcanic crater still stinking of sulfur from the eruption that forged its current shape roughly 3,500 years ago. He called it a place where the sunrises and sunsets “put poets out of work” – but also a place that reverted to “silence and grimness” by mid-October each year.
That rugged era of authentic Santorini receded into history with the arrival of an airport and modern ferries. The island is now heavily touristed, and the typical visitor experience likely isn’t much different from what a guest at one of the replica resorts in Abu Dhabi or China might encounter – pristine buildings stacked atop one another in a rambunctious jumble, restaurants, hotel rooms with air conditioning, and countless scenic views worthy of Instagram. If the primary purpose of a typical vacation is to see pretty things, consume food and drink prepared by others, and share those things on social media, then maybe the replica Santorinis are just as good as the real deal. After all, if a photo of those familiar blue domes and white walls was to slide into your Instagram feed, posted by a casual acquaintance, what are the odds you would tap the heart icon and scroll on without ever realizing the Santorini you’d just “liked” wasn’t Santorini at all?
My gut reaction compels me to insist that the unique charms of any place will be lost in translation when it is superficially cloned. When I think of a replica, I tend to think of something cheap – or, at least, cheaper than the original. I can’t afford a real Vincent Van Gogh painting, but I can order a print of Starry Night, have it framed, and hang it above my couch. It will look nice. But I will know it is not the real painting, and owning that replica won’t necessarily dissuade me from later spending even more money to visit the MoMA in New York to gape at the original. But, according to CNN, the Abu Dhabi replica resort charges $800 USD per night, roughly twice the rate of a high-season room on Santorini itself.
A replica that costs more than the original? It turns out, this isn’t a mistake. The Abu Dhabi resort’s general manager proudly touts the exclusivity of his destination compared to the original Santorini, where, he correctly points out, “especially in summer, everywhere is packed, everywhere is busy.” At his resort, where the number of hotel guests is capped at 44, the wealthy can enjoy their own sanitized version of Santorini, one that lets them entirely sidestep the sweaty masses of water bottle-clutching tourists that might spoil the original. The sanity-as-a-service of a business class airport lounge is now also available at the destination itself.
Whether these replicas are utterly repellant or completely genius depends on the perspective. Supporters might point out that since frivolous air travel contributes to climate change, it’s better for humanity that thousands of Chinese tourists book a train to Yunnan instead of a flight to Greece. And, as travel hotspots like Venice and Dubrovnik institute new fees and rules in a futile attempt to hold back swarms of tourists, replica destinations offer another solution to the challenges of overtourism.
There are precedents. The Cave of Altamira in northern Spain contains fragile prehistoric wall art that dates back more than 20,000 years. Curious visitors began arriving soon after its rediscovery in 1868, and by the 1970s the hordes were generating so much humidity that mould was forming on the cave walls, damaging the art. In 2001 authorities opened an exact replica of the cave inside a nearby visitor center, and today it diverts over a quarter of a million visitors (and their destructive moist breath) from the real cave every year.
But even as I was coming to terms with the implications of these replica destinations, an even less authentic Santorini experience was already flooding social media. This one came in the form of bizarre AI-generated images in which the white buildings of Santorini are shown seamlessly melting into an elaborate series of waterslides and splash pools. The resulting alien mashup of Santorini and an American water park might be even more alluring than anything a Greek villager or Walt Disney could dream up. With any luck, if these utopian digital fantasies continue to supersede reality, and ever more people choose to experience the world solely through screens in the comfort of their homes, I will finally be able to find a crowd-free vantage from which to photograph a genuine Santorini sunset.
References
CNN. (2024, May 21). Why an imitation Santorini has appeared on the edge of the desert. https://www.cnn.com/travel/anantara-santorini-abu-dhabi-uae/index.html
Durrell, L. (1978). The Greek Islands. Faber. Pp. 117-122.
Greeka. (n. d.). Santorini History. https://www.greeka.com/cyclades/santorini/history/
Greek City Times (2024, May 24). Fake Santorini: AI Images Go Viral. https://greekcitytimes.com/2024/05/24/fake-santorini-ai-images-go-viral/
Greek Reporter. (2024, June 4). Why Greek Island Houses Are Blue and White. https://greekreporter.com/2024/06/04/why-greek-island-houses-blue-white/
MoMA. (n. d.). Vincent van Gogh: The Starry Night. https://www.moma.org/collection/works/79802
Parga Dans, Eva & González, Pablo. (2018). The Altamira controversy: Assessing the economic impact of a world heritage site for planning and tourism management. Journal of Cultural Heritage. 30. 10.1016/j.culher.2017.09.007.
Time Out. (2024, April 26). Venice’s new tourist tax has officially launched. https://www.timeout.com/news/venice-will-charge-tourists-5-to-enter-the-city-from-next-year-090823
Times of India. (2024, April 15). There’s a Santorini in China, a picture-perfect replica of the Greek island! https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/travel/destinations/theres-a-santorini-in-china-a-picture-perfect-replica-of-the-greek-island/articleshow/109309174.cms
Total Croatia News. (2023, June 3). Dubrovnik Old Town Visitors Face New Rules. https://total-croatia-news.com/news/dubrovnik-old-town-2/