My heart sank when I saw the “closed” sign on Atlantis Books in Oia. Throughout my life, I’ve sought sanctuary in bookstores, deeming some of them sacred—like Sarinah Kinokuniya in Indonesia, Borders at Wheelock Place in Singapore, and Ampersand in Sydney, to name a few. Having repeatedly read about this mystical bookstore, often listed among the most beautiful bookstores in the world, and finally being in Santorini, I couldn’t let it go. A quick on-the-spot Google search revealed they had relocated to another iconic Santorini village, Firostefani. Phew!
The catch? It was our last evening in Santorini. We had just arrived in Firostefani for a sunset dinner, but Fafa could see the sullenness on my face. When I told him my dilemma, he gave me two options: enjoy a sunset dinner in a restaurant in Oia (something he wasn’t too keen on, to begin with) or take another expensive Uber ride to Firostefani, braving the wild, windy evening to find this Atlantis Books I’d never mentioned once to him before. Neither option thrilled him, but he was willing to go along with it because, you know, for better or for worse.
No brownie points for guessing which option I chose.
A few minutes and fifteen euros later, and after a rather average Asian meal, we found ourselves battling the wild winds of Firostefani, guided only by Google Maps. We walked through mazes, avoided throngs of tourists, and navigated narrow alleys while trying not to get distracted by all the sparkly kako mati jewellery. Up and downstairs we went, in and out of alleys, and then up the stairs again until there it was: Atlantis Books—sitting atop a maze-like hill, or so it seemed to me.
(The No Longer Lost) Atlantis Books
I stepped inside, trying to soak in the vibe as much as possible as quickly as possible.
Atlantis Books was small, yet it didn’t feel crowded. It was filled with kindred souls, sharing some kind of love for books, browsing or perhaps simply responding to the beckoning of this mythical bookstore, a kind of literary lighthouse. The space felt alive, brimming with culture and creativity, with its tree-branch decor and well-organized sections. It felt more like a home than just a shop.
And for a brief moment, amidst the blue hues of Santorini, I was home.
I touched as many books as I could, though most were in languages I didn’t understand. Still, I was determined to bring something home from this home. A Hellenic cookbook? A rare English novel? A Greek children’s book? A tote bag with Plato’s “Life must be lived as play” quote?
Then I saw them: journals, neatly stacked on a shelf by the cashier, organized by rainbow colours.
Let the record show that, until that moment, I was a purist diarist. For five years, I’d sworn by my Black Expanded Moleskine.
But this was an Atlantis Books journal. Should I? Could I? Is the paper even good? Did they have an A5 size? Were there blank pages? I need to touch them first. Is there a sample that I could write on? How much is it? Do I even have a luggage space for it? What would I use it for? A daily journal? A themed journal? A travel journal?
My internal debate lasted far less time than it took to describe it here. When the gorgeous girl behind the counter confirmed that it was made locally (a local journal! This could be a thing – my thing!) and offered further help, I blurted, “Err… do you have a blank journal, small-ish, and maybe in blue?”
Yes, that’s right, people; standing inside Atlantis Books, I broke my Black Expanded Moleskine rule (at that time, I had no idea what kind of floodgate this would open for Fafa, who has since become my official journal buyer, but that’s a story for another day). As usual, Fafa insisted on getting me the journal, and I thanked him but nowhere close to my excited “OMG, yes, please!” when the cashier offered to stamp it with the official Atlantis Books seal.
I briefly considered getting a journal for Jik, my ultimate journal buddy, but with limited luggage space and a solid dream of another trip back to Santorini, I decided to let her choose her own when we were here for the girl’s trip.
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It was already dark when we made our way back to the town square to catch one last expensive Uber to the hotel. There, we packed for our 4 AM flight—this beautiful journal included.
Atlantis Books was the first thing I added to my travel list when we booked our trip to Greece and the last thing I ticked off before we left. It was every bit the sacred sanctuary I had dreamed it would be, a place rich in culture and wonder. 10/10—highly recommend you check it out.
P.S. At the time of writing this, my Atlantis journal is still empty. I’m waiting for the perfect occasion to start it or the perfect destination to bring it along. Maybe the Rapi-yal wedding trip next year?
Atlantis Books address: Firostefani, Santorini, T.K. 84700, Kyklades, Greece. Opening hours vary — contact them to confirm.
Follow me on Instagram @KultureKween for more recent updates.
