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Published: June 11th 2017
I think Mykonos might be Greek for windy. It's still blowing a hurricane. We want to go to the beach, but only if we can find one that we can lie on without getting sandblasted. Elia Beach is on the south side of the island and the wind is from the north so we hope that it might be a bit more sheltered there.
We stand at the bus stop in front of the hotel and get front row seats to a loud argument between an Asian couple and their twenty something son. The son is inside the bus and the couple are outside. The mother and the son are both waving their arms vigorously and yelling at each other. It looks like the son is trying to convince his parents to get on the bus, but they don't seem too keen. Another man who is with them is trying to get them to yell a bit more quietly, but this isn't having much effect. The parents eventually join their son, but the yelling continues. I hope they don't know something about the bus that we don't. Another man buys a ticket and goes and sits at the back of
the bus. He then decides that the driver has given him the wrong change, so he starts arguing with him. After a while the driver asks him loudly if he knows anything about maths. Everyone else in the bus laughs and the man returns sheepishly to his seat. I wonder if we should scrap our plans to go to the beach; it might be more entertaining on the bus.
The whole island is very barren. All the vegetation is brown and there are virtually no trees. We see a few goats and cows in the rocky paddocks, but there doesn't seem to be too much for them to munch on. All the paddocks are separated by meticulously constructed stone fences, but it doesn't look like there's enough going on in the paddocks to justify the effort.
It's windy at the beach as well, although perhaps a bit less so than it was back in the town. The beach is very wide and long. The sand is a beautiful golden colour, but a bit coarser than the very fine sand of Rhodes and Corsica. The beach is of course lined with seemingly endless rows of beach umbrellas and sun
lounges. We're told that we can take any umbrella that isn't occupied and someone will come around and collect the rent. The umbrellas all have buttons you can press to get snacks and drinks. Issy soaks up the sun, while I decide to test the water. It's quite a bit chillier than the water in Rhodes, and almost Port Phillip Bay chilly. There aren't too many people in the water; I think it‘s too cold. The front row of sun lounges is virtually in the water. There is apparently only a very small tide range in the Mediterranean so they're probably almost in the water whether the tide is in our out.
It comes time for us to catch the bus back, and no one has yet come around asking us for rent money. I go to the shelter where the rent people seem to have been, but there's no one there. Issy says that I shouldn't worry. She says that if they were really desperate to get our money they would have come around at some point during the two hours we were lying there. I feel very guilty, but if we don't leave now we'll miss the
bus, and the next one isn't for another two hours. I wonder if they have security cameras here. If they do they‘ll know that we haven't paid for our sun lounges, and I'm sure that our photos will now be on file at the airport and we'll be arrested when we try to leave.
We walk to the windmills to watch the sunset. On the way there a man standing in front of a shop says hello to us. This is not unusual. People often stand in front of shops and say hello to us to try to get us to go in. When I say hello back he says "gidday mate, 'ow yer goin“ in an excellent Australian accent. I think it’s probably the best imitation of an Australian accent that I've heard from a Greek person. He asks me where we're from, and when I tell him he asks me if I barrack for the Blues. I tell him that I do. His accent isn't an imitation; he's Greek Australian, and his parents come from Melbourne. We chat. It's always good to talk to someone who barracks for the Blues. Blues supporters are kindred spirits wherever we
are in the world.
The sunset is spectacular, and we take lots of photos. It's still very windy, and we get sandblasted. We also get sprayed with wash from the waves, even though we‘re about fifty metres back from the shore.
We have dinner at a restaurant in the middle of the town away from the wind. The main courses come out but it seems that they've forgotten the starters we ordered. We're still hungry when we finish, at least I'm still hungry. I walk Issy back to the hotel, and then go back into town in search of more sustenance. We're in Greece, so surely there must be a souvlaki shop somewhere, but all I can find is gelati. I hope I can make it through to breakfast.
It's midnight, and I hear loud gunfire outside. I think that the Russians and the Australians must be fighting to decide who gets Mykonos. I tell Issy to get under the bed, but she heads bravely out onto the balcony instead. She says that I should come out too,...... and watch the fireworks.
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