…poor man
Those without a penny to their names arrive in Myconos in a perfect lather, their suitcases under their arms, on Saturday morning, having slept on deck to save themselves the cost of a night’s stay. A black watery liquid with a touch of frothy milk costs 5 euros. Wherever one sits, whatever one puts in one’s mouth; everything is expensive on Myconos. It should be noted that the tap water is undrinkable. Just licking an ice cube might result in a five-day bout of diarrhea. From sun beds to cheese pies to lighters that have «I love Myconos» on them, everything costs the earth. Fresh fish on Myconos is its quickest joke: some huge dusky sea perch caught by a Moroccan spear fisherman have been artfully frozen to keep their eyes black and shiny. With empty purses, the famished tourists make a show of enjoyment at the noisy clubs, positioning their emaciated bodies in some empty spot where clashing music thunders into their ears. With a whirling head, the penniless one goes to bed, where he only gets a few hours’ rest. He has set the alarm clock so as not to miss breakfast, which is included in the price of a room. For the crafty hotelier – as though he didn’t know what time Myconos bars closed – has determined breakfast lasts from 7 a.m. to 10 a.m. Still bleary-eyed, the wretch heads for Super Paradise beach. The sun is high in the sky and the music at full blast, as though they have played non-stop since the night before. Nobody swims in the sea, so as not to sober up. Everybody is enjoying themselves unbearably. Fortunately, all good things come to an end. Soon, the day comes round for the sleepless and penniless weekenders to get some nourishment and rest – in Athens.
