Kefalonia Day One

 Amenities! Wow it feels nice to be taken care of. I had totally forgotten that this hotel has a continental breakfast. In the US, we often joke that continental breakfast is not real breakfast. On the continent, I am content with it. A cup of caffeine, some cheese, olives, maybe a pastry. It’s just perfect here.

There’s a historic footbridge connecting Argostoli with Drapano, the settlement on the other side of the water. I figured I would start my day by hoofing across that. I walked Lithostroto, the main drag, to get there. What was deserted last night is now full of people. Like Paxos, this island is very shut down for the winter and the activity I see here is similar but scaled up. Lots of people sitting and drinking coffee. Old men on the patio smoking cigarettes. Young women inside chatting with their friends.

The bridge extends across the water at a series of odd angles, veering left and right as it crosses the bay. Most people on it are exercising or just out for a walk. I’m noting that everyone seems to turn back at Drapano. An old man is wading in the water with a net and shovel, it seems like he’s going for fish but he returns to his scooter empty. As I get to the end of the bridge I sense someone walking up behind me. I tense up as this stranger grabs my shoulder. A good surprise, it’s the bartender from last night. He kindly informs me that as I suspected there is almost nothing in Drapano unless I want brunch. As I’d already eaten, I turned back.

A bridge to nowhere

This is more or less the extent of things to see in walking distance. Better secure some wheels since the busses are crap in the winter. Lucky for me, the front desk was able to find someone who could arrange a rental. He’s closed shop for the winter and only keeps one scooter around for himself with a disconnected battery. He won’t need it while I’m in town so it’s mine for a few days. This rental had more formalities, a waiver, written rental agreement, and a stern reminder to wear a helmet. So corporate.

I fired up the bike to see a lighthouse to the north of town. When I got there I overheard a couple speaking English and bothered them about it. They’re both from the UK and have been living here for years now. Since their residency was established before Brexit, they can stay as long as they like. Both of them work in tourism and live as the locals do. Work like the devil in the summer and rest in the winter. They point me in the direction of a monastery which is has a beautiful church, a beautiful drive, and a beautiful restaurant nearby.

I can attest to the beauty of the ride over. The sweeping curves remind me of the roads in The Santa Monica Mountains I used to speed as a degenerate teenager. Kanan, Mulholland, Potrero, Tuna. Everyone local knows these and I see them laid out before me again. The only thing that’s missing is some 16 year old asshole with a learner’s permit and a BMW doing his best to install it in the side of a mountain.

Not a file photo of Kanan

All the villages I pass through are eerily quiet. You can imagine that before tourism took over as the main trade that these small clusters of houses would have been the farms of one or two families. As they hear me buzzing along heads turn, the traffic is unusual. The shut doors and windows give a post-apocalyptic feel to an idyllic vacation spot. Sometimes I feel as through I am going through a disused movie set. Nobody is home, it only exists to give the appearance of life.

The monastery is similarly quiet. The gates are open, it’s not like the monks take a break from God in in the off season, but nobody is out. No open windows. No noises. Just me and a pair of curious felines. This island also has its share of the stray cat population that seems to blanket the Ionians.

The only brothers I could find at the monastery

The barbecue restaurant was not open when I rode by but may not be closed for the season. The thing to look for is patio furniture. If it’s tied down, covered, and stored the place is all done for the winter. I saw some out and may have to return to this one later. Since I was hungry I made my way to a taverna near the coast for a snack. Google predictably failed me, I knew that trusting the opening hours was a fool’s errand but I am a fool in need of errands. After a ride back to the hotel it was time for my afternoon nap.

All the thinking about barbecue stayed in my head and so for dinner it just had to be pita gyros. The spot I found sold me a sandwich for four euro. Out of curiosity, I looked up their menu on the internet to see what an on-season price would be. Six fifty. It’s no wonder the people here can take so much time off. Tourism took an economy that exported nothing but fish, olive oil, and wine and supercharged it. What a weird thing.