Corfu Day Three

 Before I went to bed I popped my clothes in the combo washer/dryer. With a little luck, I’d wake up to clean clothes. I was half lucky, I woke up to wet clothes. Normally this wouldn’t be any sort of encumbrance but for two things. My room has the European hotel feature of not having electricity unless the key is inside the room. The second being that this thing takes over two hours to dry clothes. There goes the morning. Not much matter anyway, it’s raining out and I’d rather be under a roof anyhow.

After an eternity I managed to escape my sudsy prison and try for an adventure. Corfu has a synagogue. Predictably, it is closed right now. I did learn an important fact for the day, there is a cruise ship in port and that means tourists. The once-calm streets are now full of families in ponchos speaking Spanish and Italian. Damn tourists ruin everything. Wait, I’m a damn tourist. I guess I can only get so grumpy when I’m a part of the problem.

As such, I commenced cafe hopping with the book Brian gave me on communist Albania. Off to see who can make me the best lungo in the city. The lungos were not great but the book is fascinating and heartbreaking. Mud Sweeter Than Honey is a series of interviews with folks who were trapped in Albania during the communist dictatorship. The dictator’s isolationism was so extreme that he pushed the Russians and the Chinese away for not being communist enough. The interviews are heart wrenching.

I tried to meet up with Beth and Brian in the afternoon but our nap schedules were completely in conflict. I emerged from my cafe at dinner time, whatever that means here. Dinner took me to Berdes, a tapas bar that typically has live music. Spiro, last night’s DJ recommended it to me. Just like his music choices, his restaurant choice was a good one. Solid creative food and a new drink, rakimelo. It is best described as a raki hot toddy diluted down to about 25% ABV, much stronger than a toddy. Just like a toddy is is medicinal and the perfect thing for a rainy day. In due time, Spiro appeared and introduced me to his friends at the bar. Being Athenians among them, they were kind enough to give me recommendations for Athens. We finished our night at 7 Sins, an incredible cocktail bar in Corfu. Watching how a bartender handles their jigger and tins can tell you everything you need to know about what they’re capable of. Spiros (same name yes) is fantastic. He prepared me a drink with Metaxa, something that could probably be done in the US but not well. You can buy the bottle but bartenders don’t know the spirit. Spiros did. Spiro (the DJ) and I chatted the night away. I shared my plan to go to Paxos on Sunday. They called my crazy and said I won’t find much there. As far as I’m concerned crazy might mean I’m acclimating to the culture and that’s a good thing. I don’t know what I’ll find there. If all there is to do on Paxos is drink raki at the beach with a good book I’ll be content.

Spiro and closed out and made our way back to our respective homes. I pulled out my phone at two in the morning and got a text from reality. A man who might be my next boss reached out to ask when I’m coming back. He might have some work for me if I am available in the US at the right time. The dose of reality was shocking. If I got an offer but had to go back now would I? Mann tracht und Gott lacht. These things are not worth planning about. I’ll make the decision if I need to. In the meantime, less subjunctive and more sleep.