Why I don't recommend Santorini or Mykonos (an honest letter)
Your baby-faced editor, Tina in Santorini 2014. I know better now.
Updated June 2026
Last Tuesday someone asked me on Instagram where to stay in Santorini. They were planning their first trip to Greece and wanted the inside line on Oia. I read the message, sat with it for a while, and didn’t answer. Then I started writing this.
I don’t write about Santorini. I don’t write about Mykonos. I do it on purpose. Read on for the reasons before you book your trip.
Why I’m drawing the line
Cycladic Spaces exists because someone asked me, fifteen years ago, where to take my family in Greece. I sent them an itinerary that was half what my mum would do and half my own pet rules. They came back and said it was the best holiday they’d ever had. So I kept doing it. Then I built a website. Then I started writing.
What I’ve learned in those years of helping Aussies plan Greece trips is this: the islands that get the most search traffic, the most Instagram coverage, and the most “best of” lists are also the islands where the gap between expectation and reality has become the widest.
The two with the biggest gap, by a long way, are Santorini and Mykonos. So this is where I’m drawing the editorial line.
The numbers behind the decision
Santorini has roughly 15,500 permanent residents. In 2024 it received over 3.4 million visitors. On peak cruise days it absorbs up to 17,000 day-trippers between 9am and 5pm, then they leave. Imagine your home town’s population tripling for eight hours, every day, all summer. That’s Oia.
Mykonos sits at roughly 10,500 residents and absorbs 1.5 million visitors a year. The mayor of Mykonos publicly called for capacity limits in 2023. In June 2025 the Greek government introduced a €20 cruise passenger fee for both islands because the infrastructure could no longer cope. Read the Greek government’s own briefing on the climate-resilience and cruise levies for the full picture.
These aren’t abstract statistics. On the ground they look like this:
Water shortages on Santorini every summer that force tavernas to ration and ration again.
Donkey welfare incidents that animal protection groups have documented since at least 2018.
Local cafe owners paying €1,000 a month for a single staff bed because the island has been priced out for the people who run it.
Cobblestones in Oia worn smooth by foot traffic.
Cable car queues that hit two hours in peak season.
The famous photos taken from six specific spots, crowded with hundreds of people trying to get the same shot.
Locals priced out of ever owning a piece of their own island.
The Instagram lie
What you see online isn’t what you arrive to. The famous Santorini sunset shot is taken from a particular wall in Oia where, in summer, two thousand people gather an hour before sunset to compete for a sliver of view. The famous Little Venice in Mykonos is a bar strip with €22 cocktails and a soundtrack you didn’t pick. The narrow streets you’ve pinned are full of cruise tourists moving in lines like school excursions.
If you’ve gone in expecting peace and got a queue, that’s not your fault. The image was sold to you. And if you do want to be part of that scene, then friend, I’m afraid you are lost.
The bigger point
There are days, especially of late, where I struggle to share. Travel has become commodified to such an extent it is almost ruined. Do I want to be responsible for adding pressure to a beautiful and quiet island. No. Do I want locals forced out of the places they have lived in for generations because of greed and gentrification? Also no. My island is suffering this fate now as we speak. If we didn’t have my grandparent’s village house, then I couldn’t afford to stay there. This is heartbreaking. Foreign investment, popcorn-chomping mass tourism, water crises and environmental devastation are very, very real.
There is a fine line I feel myself walking with this website.
Cycladic Spaces will keep showing you the Greece that isn’t being loved to death. We’ve done Lefkada, Naxos, Atokos, Athens neighbourhoods that aren’t on a postcard, sardine festivals on Lesvos, olive harvests in Crete. That’s the brief. That’s the moat.
Some readers will call this gatekeeping. Greece belongs to everyone, including the people who’ve been doing the same Oia photo since 2014. But a travel publication that recommends everywhere recommends nowhere. So I’m telling you, in writing, what I won’t send you to and why.
If you came here looking for the best villa in Oia or the wildest beach club in Mykonos, you’re in the wrong corner of the internet. I’d rather tell you that to your face than send you somewhere you’ll regret.
So traveller, I ask this of you. Think a little deeper. Slow down. Put down the phone. Don’t do it for the gram. Do it for your soul. Find it in you to connect with where you are, because that place may not be there in 5 years. Pick the accommodation on the island without the pool. Walk. Explore. Take your rubbish with you. Forget the bullshit and just be. Greece needs this. The world needs this.
FAQs
Is Santorini really that bad?
For 24 hours in shoulder season it’s still beautiful. The view of the caldera is genuinely one of the world’s great geological accidents. For a week in August it’s the most exhausting holiday you’ll have, and the most expensive. The view is the same. The crowds, the cost, and the strain on the island change everything else.
What about Crete and Rhodes? Aren’t they also touristy?
Larger islands absorb tourism better. Crete is 8,000 square kilometres. It has room for tourists and locals to share. Same with Rhodes. The Cyclades are smaller and the impact is concentrated. That’s why Santorini and Mykonos are a different conversation even from Paros and Naxos.
Am I a bad person if I go to Santorini?
No. But you’re also not getting the Greece I’d send my mum to. Pick your priorities.
What if I’m on a cruise and Santorini is a day stop?
Skip the day stop. Stay onboard. If you can’t skip it, take an excursion that goes inland to Pyrgos or Megalochori and avoid Oia entirely. The half-day in Oia is the worst part of the island for both you and the locals.
Where would you send a first-time Greek traveller instead?
Paros plus Naxos for islands. Athens plus the Peloponnese for mainland. A mix of both for two weeks. Read Travel to Greece from Australia: The 2026/27 Planning Guide for the full first-timer plan.
Will Cycladic Spaces ever cover Santorini or Mykonos?
If something genuinely changes (serious cap-on-visitors policy, a meaningful shift in how the islands manage tourism, a reason to update the editorial line), yes. Until then, no.
What about the cruise tax? Doesn’t that fix things?
The 2025 cruise levy was a start, not a solution. It funds infrastructure but doesn’t cap arrivals. For more on what Australian travellers pay in taxes and fees, read Greek Tourist Tax 2026.
