Day 67 - Glamour Gone But Not Forgotten

Packing up our lives in Scotland to come up with the million pound idea that will keep Paul in juice-coloured leisure suits and medallions, doesn’t come without its sacrifices; namely, hanging out at the cafes most evenings, drinking coffee, and solving the world’s problems.

A cup at one of the many cafés along the waterfront costs two Euros and, like our bathroom scales, it slowly adds up.

But today we’ve discovered a great way to simulate a cosmopolitan lifestyle without spending a penny: pack a flask of hot coffee and head to the public café area at the end of the wharf. Perfect. Why didn't we think of this before?

The wharf is a hub of activity with boats, people, trucks, and donkeys coming and going; raw street theatre with its fair share of comedy and tragedy. And like some great relic of a long forgotten communist regime, the sheltered seaside balcony with its collection of steel tables and chairs, is for the people.

After a day locked inside working, we excitedly boil the kettle and dust off the Thermos in preparation for reviving our social life and solving the issue of third world debt.

Just as we’re heading out the door, the sky turns wild. Strobe lightning, violent thunder, and hail stones the size of tumours thwart our plans. Determined to spend the evening out, we huddle under our dripping porch and crack the flask open.

The seeming poverty stirs Paul and he basks in the nostalgia of his student days: midnight rallies, living on half a tin of beans, and feeling like a rebel against the system. Meanwhile, Nicole dreams of frocks, glamour, and cocktails. She is a long way from Paris tonight!

Day 66 - We're Gonna Live Forever

Thanks to the dead, we're going to live longer.

The local cemetary is located on the side of the hill at the top of a very steep staircase, which is perfect for improving our fitness. We have started running in an attempt to get fit and live until we're 150 years old - each that is, not collectively.

The priest thought our Gymnastiki was a great idea when we bumped into him at the top of the stairs one day.

We give the passport fiasco a miss today and instead head out to do our current exercise routine: walk to the end of the waterfront, climb quickly up through the maze of houses to the foot of the staircase, run up the stairs and along the looped road back to the bottom of the stairs, repeat this three times, then run down to the waterfront, stopping at the vegetable stall at the end of the wharf. About 30 mins in total.

Paul bounds down the road with the ease of someone travelling to their letterbox to check the mail. Nicole lags way behind, leaving a trail of lung-lining on the tarmac as she chokes and gasps her way to the finishing line. In an act of blind faith, she desperately holds on to the belief that the pain will pass.

This is supposed to be good for us. Isn't it? It will extend our life. Won't it? Nicole wonders if she has read in the past that statistically runners drop dead from heart attacks more often than non-runners. She is not sure though and pushes the vague memory to the back of her mind. Sometimes, ignorance is bliss.

After all, this is supposed to move us farther away from those permantly resting at the top of the cemetary stairs, not closer.

Day 65 - Soft Porn and Bureaucracy

Today we battle it out again with Greek bureaucracy as we attempt to get Nicole a new-style Greek passport. With a change in legislation, the Greek government now require DNA samples to be embedded within the document along with a microchip recording of all the stored memories within Nicole’s brain. Something like that anyway.

Our first stop is to get passport photos adhering to Greek requirements: a grim, miserable expression. Next, another near-death experience on the roads at the hands of a hot-headed taxi driver overly confident in the protection offered by the icons on his dashboard. By shear luck we arrive at the tax office still sporting a pulse.

The tax office is the next leg in this bureaucratic relay. Here we must purchase some vouchers before heading to the police station to pass the baton on.

The office is dark and colourless with the staff tucked behind a thick curtain of fag smoke and a heavy wooden U-shaped barrier; memories of a back-street East-End pub surface. We stand at the barrier waiting to be served. There is no one in front of us, but looking into the pit we see the, mostly male, staff engrossed in the soft porn being played on the small T.V attached to the wall. We wonder if there is a long list of men on the island waiting for a job to become available here.

Finally a heavily moustached staff member drags is eyes away from the thonged backside on the screen long enough to ask what we want and to direct us to another desk to get served. We move to the cell-like window as instructed and wait again. There is a woman in front of us with a large pile of papers that each require to be looked at, signed and stamped by the smoking official behind the bars whose eyes regularly dance between the T.V and the documents.

After half an hour, all papers are stamped, a large wedge of cash is handed over, and the woman in front of us leaves. We fumble around with the smattering of Greek in our heads and manage to splutter out what we want. Nicole is asked her age as this apparently has a bearing on the cost. She is not sure how she feels when she discovers that her age is “good”, it will bring the cost of the vouchers down to 76 Euros. More cash is handed over, three vouchers are handed back, and we head off to the police station for more hoop jumping.

Arriving at the police station we are again greeted with a smoking official behind a large desk who informs us that we are too late (it is 1pm), the department is closed, and we must return between 8 – 12 midday tomorrow.

'Tomorrow' is when all business gets done in Greece.

Day 64 - The Great Race

Today we head to the local stadium to break some athletic world records.

Paul has trawled Wikipedia for the fastest times ever achieved for the men’s 100, 200, & 400 metres. He has recently revived his cross-country running career from his glory days at West Linton Primary School, and is keen to see how he measures up against the industry's greats. Nicole has been recruited for the day to cheer and hoot from the sidelines as Paul gloriously tears over the finishing line.

Unusually, Nicole barely gets a word in on the way to the stadium. At the end of the 30 minute walk, she has learned all about Paul’s running techniques, strategies, & great triumphs in the small Scottish village of West Linton during the late 70’s & early 80’s.

After checking out the track and satisfied with its lane markings, Paul begins to stretch and limber up; a look of serious concentration on his face as he bends from side to side. Finally, he is ready. He is going to start with the 100 metres, and his time to beat is Jamacia’s Asafa Powell’s 2005 record of 9.77 seconds.

Nicole readies the stop watch as Paul lowers himself into the starting blocks. “Ready, Set, Go!”. The watch has started running but Paul has not. At the crucial moment he needs to go to the toilet. A quick check round the stadium confirms that there are no facilities open and then the race is really on. Back to the house and to the bathroom.

Paul doesn’t make it in 9.77 seconds but he does make it in time. Nicole does what she was recruited to do and hoots. With laughter.

Day 63 - Love and Money

It’s been a cold grey day spent inside working, so we head out tonight to have a romantic date down at a waterfront. Café Ciao is chosen for the large mugs of roasting coffee served, and the outdoor burners that keep the blood flowing so you can enjoy the seaside scenery.

Thoughts are ping-ponged back and forth about love, life, and Freddy Mercury, and all seems to be going well until we stumble into mentioning the outstanding Value Added Tax that is owed to us. This leads us on to debating the benefits and cons of remaining a Ltd Company, and what on earth are we going to do about our accountants who charge an arm and a leg and a kidney and a liver whenever they spare us a thought. The date is over and we are once again business partners clashing at front line.

Not people to give up easily we schedule another date for next week.

Day 62 - Curses and Scandals

We are on our way to the ancient castle on the hillside when we bump into Themis. She is a cousin of a cousin of a cousin’s wife’s son, and, according to Nicole’s Father, Michael, they are related.

The sun has reared its head again today but in Themis’ world it is still dark and miserable. With a long solemn face she informs us that all the women on the island are bitches and every second one is cheating on their husband with their husband’s best friend. We also learn that it’s alright for the men to have affairs - that’s natural - but it is very unnatural for women to do it – apocalyptic even.

She pauses in the story to greet another long-faced comrade and together they commiserate on how crap life is on this Greek island in the deep Med. Satisfied that the other is just as miserable, they say goodbye.

The gossip continues and we go on to learn that the biggest bitch on the island is Themis’ sister-in-law who believes that Themis poisoned her husband with mushrooms. She is also having an affair with her husband’s best friend. But not to worry, Themis has put a curse on her. Something bad is going to happen but we can’t seem to get a straight answer as to what.

The sister-in-law has also put a curse on Themis but she is convinced that the curse has not taken effect, rattling her Protective Eye on her key-chain at us in triumph. We stop short of asking her if the curse is an affliction of delusion and pathological misery.

An hour later we say goodbye to Themis, never guessing that this seemingly quiet, remote island is a hot-bed of sex and scandal!

Day 61 - Nicole's Name Day

The great day arrives - December 6th - the feast of Saint Nicholas and therefore it's Nicole's Name Day, or Yiorti.

As we described on Michael's special day (Nov 8th), your name day is a very special occasion that celebrates only you... and everyone else with the same name.

Dec 6th is also a special day for the whole of Kalymnos because Saint Nicholas is the official protector of the island. Saint Nick hasn't been doing a lot of protecting recently - he died nearly 1700 years ago - and this may explain why the island has changed hands so often through the years. Kalymnians are keeping faith with the Saint though and, indeed, it's a local public holiday.

So the town is packed with Nicoles and Nicks plus their family and friends. Hundreds of islanders have put on their Sunday Best leather jackets and shades, and piled into the town square: first to watch the navy and the priests grimly parade the icon of Saint Nicholas up and down on a big chair, and then to sit in the cafes for a few hours and drink coffee and talk.

Nicole's personal celebrations are crowned with Michael's cheesecake confection. Not to be confused with the sweet of the same name, this cheesecake is a solid block of homemade cheese, decorated with chocolate lettering. On top of this, Nicole is lavished with gifts (750 grams of Nescafe and a litre of milk) and a card. Chronia Polla, as they say!

According to Wikipedia, Saint Nick is also the patron saint of thieves, pawnbrokers, and the falsely accused - good company - and we hope they had as much fun as we did today.