(this is a bit old but I don’t think it got sent. Hmm.)
All right, so it’s pink.
At the end of the season it’s sort of like that 21st you went to that they’d massively overcatered for – you know, hiring a hall and DJs and getting lots of alcohol and lighting – but not many people actually came. And so everyone wonders whether they should get into the spirit of things or bail to the other, better 21st they’re going to later in the evening.
The main difference is, there’s no birthday person about whom you care one whit.
Agios Gordios is a little township totally sold to the tourist trade. You can see why – its little crescent beach is the archetypal small Greek island swimming paradise. Golden sands (well, sort of brown, really) against spectacular cliffs spiked with those pointy Greek conifers, and the clear bright Med waters rolling in. And they really were rolling – it’s been very heavy on the surf these days, and apparently three people died on a nearby beach yesterday.
I went swimming today and didn’t drown. It was good.
I’ve met lots of people. I’m starting to understand the logic of hanging around with Kiwis and Aussies in a situation like this – they’re the only people who aren’t completely mad. (Several wise Canadians excepted, of course.) And they’re all good people. I think we want similar things out of travelling, and certainly there’s a generous irony in how the group I’ve fallen in with has enjoed the plate-smashing ouzo circle and lengthy, ridiculous happy hours.
The booze cruise hasn’t run because of the weather.
In a few hours I start out for Athens.