In Paxos
To Paxos then. A reasonable trip on a Germania plane, a small but reassuringly German airline. The familiar sensation of stepping from the plane into the Greek sun, walking across the concrete of Corfu airport like walking into an oven. Then a short coach ride to Benitses harbour where we were put aboard the Vicky B, a small charter ferry. Sat on the top deck drinking a can or two of cold mythos beer as we travelled south down the channel between Corfu and the mountainous Greek mainland. The islands and headlands like watercolour washes of blue. Eventually we neared Paxos, looking mysterious in its heat haze. August is of course the time of year when Italians also take their break, and Corfu being a short sail from Southern Italy. When we arrived at Gaios Harbour in Paxos, a huge Italian motor yacht was harboured where the ferry was to moor. The Captain of the ferry employed his loudspeaker and addressed the Italian as malaka (wanker). The affronted Italian (an arrogant cazzo...
