Pineapple Tattoo

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We decide to get up early so that we can visit Myrtos Beach hopefully before it gets too crowded. I go down to breakfast to find that I'm the only person here. Fortunately the apartment owner has a very cute Scottish Terrier called Freddy who decides to keep me company.

This is our last day in Assos, and it doesn't feel like we've been here for a week. Issy says that she's decided to re-rate Assos as a ten out of ten, and hope that some later destination can knock it off its perch. Each time we've come to Europe we‘ve stayed at fewer places for longer, but even a week here doesn't feel like it's been enough.

We head back down the long and windy road to Myrtos Beach. There are quite a few people here even this early in the day, but at least this time we manage to find a park within manageable walking distance.

We’re told that we can claim any two empty sun lounges and umbrella, and someone will come around later for payment. There seems to be a definite pecking order. The permanent rentable lounges and umbrellas are in three rows about thirty metres back from the water's edge. The rented umbrellas are all either white, or blue with white stripes, and it seems that there’s fierce competition for places in the front row. We're too late to get a spot there, and have to settle for the next row back. As Issy‘s about to sit down I spot a rusty nail on her lounge, which it seems is intended for us to put through the stem of our umbrella to keep it up. I wonder how many times this one’s injected the backsides of unsuspecting first time renters. I hope the local hospital‘s got a good supply of tetanus shots. I assume there is a local hospital.

The area closest to the water's edge is reserved for the upper echelon of people who’ve brought their own umbrellas with them, and don't have to rent. Their umbrellas are all very brightly coloured, presumably to ensure that they are very distinguishable from the rented variety occupied by the lower echelons further back. I'm sure most people who come to Kefalonia would fly here. I wonder how they transport their umbrellas. Most of them don't seem to fold up, so I don't think they'd fit in an overhead locker. Even if they did, they've all got sharp pointy ends, and I suspect look a bit too much like weapons to be let on a plane. Maybe if you need to bring your own personalised umbrella you need to come here on a boat. A lot of the people in the very front row look like they’re probably sufficiently cashed up to own their own boats.

We head in for a dip. While a lot of the beach is sandy, it's very pebbly close to the water, so I wear thongs to protect my feet, and leave them at the water's edge. The beach is steeply sloping, so I'm in over my head about five metres from the shore. The water seems very salty, and much more buoyant than the water back home. As I go to get out I realise that I haven't taken enough notice of exactly where I left my footwear. I spend a long time standing in the same spot at the water's edge, scanning up and down the beach to see if I can spot them. Eventually I look up to realise that I'm standing right in front of a group of girls sunbathing topless. I‘m not sure they're at all convinced that I was looking for my thongs.

Back at our sunlounges in the second row of the rented section, someone leaves from the two lounges in front of us. We move quickly to claim a spot in the front row, but we're too slow and someone else gets there before us. This is clearly a very cut throat business. We're going to need to get a lot smarter in future if we want to advance.

A man comes around to collect the rent. He says it costs seven Euro for the day, and we can stay here all night as well if we want to. I wonder if anything happens here at night. He tells us that he didn't sleep very well last night. He prints out a receipt which he attaches to the umbrella with the rusty nail that's holding it open, which is apparently proof of claim to the umbrella. As people leave, this same man needs to get to their umbrellas before the next occupants, so that he can remove the receipts. If he doesn't, the next occupants will claim the receipt as their own, and they won't have to pay. There's only one man, and hundreds of umbrellas, so he must get a lot of exercise. I wonder why he doesn’t sleep well.

We hear a lot of whistles blowing, and assume that this is the life guards going about their business of preventing people from drowning. It seems that we're mistaken. While there are two life guard towers on the beach, they don't seem to have any actual life guards in them; the whistles are instead being blown by the parking attendants. I think that parking must be a lot more dangerous here than swimming. I wonder if anyone's keeping a lookout for sharks. I've read about sharks in Greek mythology. I wonder if they're only myths. I wonder about this a lot as I prepare for my next dip.

An English family takes up residence on the set of lounges next to ours. The father has a fresh tattoo of a pineapple on his shoulder. It's a very big pineapple, and it's all in black. He doesn't have any other tattoos, or at least any that we can see. I wonder why anyone would get a tattoo of a big black pineapple on their shoulder. Issy says that it must be a symbol of a secret society. If so, he doesn't seem to be trying to keep it very secret. I think it's more likely that he did it to win a bet, or that he got it late one night after spending a bit too long in the bar. I didn't think that you were allowed to get tattoos while you were drunk. Maybe that's just in Australia. Things might be different here in Greece, or even in England.

Back in Assos Issy rests up while I walk down through the village and up the other side of the valley to take some more final snaps. The views from this new vantage point are as mesmerising as they’ve been from everywhere else around the harbour. We settle in for our final dinner in the main square. We're both feeling very sad to be leaving.

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Photos

Myrtos Beach
Upper echelon coloured umbrellas by the water's edge

Comments

[Clayts]

Sure, Dave
Sure you were looking for your thongs, Dave. I thought this blog was meant to let us know what was actually happening over there?! Clayts

[DaveandIssy]

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