Oia, Santorini

The village clings to the rim of a flooded volcanic crater, so the ground simply falls away at the edge of the lanes into a blue drop of sea hundreds of metres below.

The buildings are stacked and folded into the rock in white and pale blue, and walking Oia is really a matter of following stairs up, down and around other people's rooftops.

In the hour before sunset the western lanes fill shoulder to shoulder as everyone converges on the same view, cameras up, waiting for the light.

Away from that crush the back lanes and the long stair down to Ammoudi Bay are far quieter, and often the better memory of the place.

Santorini's horseshoe shape is the geologically dramatic result of a catastrophic volcanic eruption around 1600 BC, the island's steep caldera cliffs revealing three thousand years of layered lava and ash that give the landscape its distinctive colouration.

The villages of Fira and Oia on the caldera rim are connected by a path along the cliff top that takes about two hours to walk, offering sweeping views of the volcano's interior and the caldera sea at every turn, with the white dome of Oia's churches the classic image of the island.

The island's vineyards grow in volcanic soil at altitudes of up to 400 metres, producing the crisp, mineral Assyrtiko white wine that has become one of Greece's most recognised modern wines, a fitting gastronomic counterpart to the ancient volcanic landscape.

It is the defining image of the Greek islands: the caldera, the white cubes and the domes are what most people picture when they picture the Aegean.

The sheer drama of building a village on the rim of an active volcanic caldera makes even a short walk feel vertiginous and memorable.

The evening light on the white walls and the blue sea, when you can find a quiet corner for it, genuinely lives up to the photographs.