Biscuits, biscuits, everywhere…

I wake curled in the foetal position at the top of the bed. I still have last nights dress on. I can’t stretch out as my suitcase is at the bottom of the bed so I’ve obviously decided just to lie down around it. Ohhhhhhhh dearrrr…

I reach for my phone, which is surprisingly sensibly on the bedside table next to me and get the fright of my life: It’s 11.30 am! 11.30am!!!!! Jeez I’ve missed a whole morning of Dimitrius hunting AND tanning time, both of which I can ill afford to miss! There are three missed calls from the couple last night checking I got home safe and messages from people I’d been texting before I passed out, again checking that I’m ok. I’m ok… I’m still in the foetal position and there’s a little man banging his fist off the inside of my skull but I’m ok. I gingerly text the couple back to give my apologies for not getting back to them, telling them I passed out on my bed and thank you so much yes I did get home safe… though God only knows how. I must’ve been a racing pigeon in a previous life as I somehow always manage to find my way home; even though I’d only previously walked here once and that was a back-and-forward-try-this-way-then-that-way-mission. In that respect I’m very proud of my drunk self as she actually has greater navigation skills than my sober self. My drunk self gets extra brownie points when I realise she also remembered to take her contact lenses out: I’m an inebriated genius! Though the makeup taking off was obviously a step too far as looking in the mirror I’m sporting that lovely panda look. How come my makeup was sliding off my face last night yet now it is resolutely stuck to my skin and burrowed into every crevice?  I sigh, turning my gaze from the mirror to find of all things a biscuit perched at the end of the bed. What the…?!
Moving around the room there are biscuits everywhere. I must’ve come in and had some sort of biscuit orgy. Just as well I didn’t manage to give them to Not-So-Grumpy-Old-Dimitrius and Not-So-Grumpy-Old-Dimitrius’-Wife as they’ve clearly played a key part in last nights activities. They’re on the drainer in the kitchen, in the bathroom sink, basically any random place you can think that a biscuit shouldn’t be, there’s a biscuit there to greet you. It’s like a Tracey Emin piece of modern art. A postmodern biscuitopia. I eat them; or should I say I down them like last nights shots. I hate waste and hangovers call for food… even if they wouldn’t be my first choice and they’ve gone abit soft now, they’ll do.

I finish my biscuit treasure trail of gluttony and look at my phone in more detail, specifically the messages from the night before. Oh my. It’s just as well I’m sitting down (I find the little man in my head bangs his fists even more when I stand up). My favourite messages trail is the following, all sent by me and with no response from the other party in between:
00:26am:  Oh dear
00:26am: Yes
1:01am: I am ver
1:02am: I am ver
1:02am: I am

Then nothing else.

Answers on a postcard please: what the bloomin’ heck was I talking about?! I have absolutely no idea now and by the looks of it I probably didn’t have any idea then either. Think brain think…I can’t recall leaving the bar but I do remember at one point walking along Papadiamantis (love that name) Street and giving myself a stern talking to for swaying around like the drunken idiot that I am. The next thing I recall is waking up…
Uh-oh how did I get in the hotel?! The lady told me when I checked in that they lock the front door at midnight but there is a key on my fob I can use, or there is a back gate near my room which also might be locked, but again I have a key. Question is did I get in the front door or use the back gate?! Either way I’m very impressed at my key usage at a strange property in a drunken state; again drunken self has outshone sober self. Oh hang on, did I see anyone? Or more importantly did they see me? If I went through reception there is the possibility I may have had a conversation with someone… I have absolutely no idea. I could’ve met Dimitrius himself in reception last night and I’d be none the wiser. I decide for the rest of my stay I shall use the back gate so that I don’t have to see anyone at reception, just in case they know of or mention my drunken antics.
Keen to waste no more of the sunshine I take my makeup and last nights dress off, put my suncream and beach clothes on and drag my sorry a** down to the beach to mend my broken self. On the agenda is pure pandering to whatever my hangover wishes, be it sleep, stuffing my face or hair of the dog, whatever is necessary will be done.

I find a solitary space on the beach and doze and dip for a few hours before playing a game with myself: I want food, I don’t want food, I want food, I don’t want food. For gods sake please don’t let today be Dimitrius day, he’d run a mile if he saw me now I’m sure. What exactly happens to your face during a hangover? Is it just that my eyes can’t see straight so I look different or have my features actually contorted into some unrecognisable shape? It’s 3pm now and other than those random biscuits I haven’t ate anything and as not eating isn’t making me feel any better I decide to give eating a go.

The beach is lined with bars and tavernas. I go and sit in the only one I can find that isn’t shaded (after missing the full morning I need to maximise my tanning time now) I sit for fifteen minutes and no one approaches. Maybe I’m just invisible on my own, or maybe someone recognises me from last night and thinks I’m not going near that drunken loon, or maybe I just look hungover and should not be served anything just in case I decide to hurl it up again. Whatever it is I’m not in the mood for Greek service lethargy so move on elsewhere; sun or no sun I need a Cola. Speaking of Coke I’ve recently been made aware that some people actually say no when told at a bar ‘sorry we don’t have Coke, is Pepsi ok?’ I honestly thought this was just a polite bar brand name awareness statement which everyone always agrees to but apparently not, there are people in the world who change their drink preference if they are to be served Pepsi rather than Coke! Who knew! Life is a constant education.

Me being me who will eat or drink anything doesn’t care what Cola beverage they serve, only that they serve one quick. I find another bar, plonk myself in a chair and zone out to the music. I’m bemused when people keep clapping at the end of records until I realise a good half hour or so later that there is a dude playing guitar right behind me! Jeez hangovers suck, you miss the most obvious goings on: Dimitrius could’ve been holding two fingers up behind my head to do that rabbit ear thing right now and I’d be none the wiser. I down my Coke faster than last nights Ouzo and eagerly wait for my obligatory holiday Club Sandwich (for some reason I never eat them at home, only on holidays) then it arrives and I struggle to eat it. I’m neither here nor there nor in nor out. I’m used to indecision at the best of times but I’m in hangover hell and don’t know what to do with myself, everything is a self-inflicted struggle. I take my time and get through the bread mountain before retiring to the beach again to do the only thing that can help me now: sleep. Dimitrius will have to wait another day…

20170719_122138
Be that a fishing boat?

20170719_123242

20170719_122320
Oh to be a cat

20170719_12292320170719_12352720170719_12415520170719_12422820170719_124504

Mamma Mia, here I go again

It’s axiomatic that on my last day in Skopelos the sun is back out in full force. As I’m leaving one of the hostesses neighbours pops by and there’s discussion around the weather; I comment that bad weather seems to follow me and she is visibly relieved when I tell her I’m going today, effectively asking me to please never return. My lovely hostess (who appears personally distressed that the weather has been so poor during my stay as though it were something she could control) offers to drive me down to the port but I tell her I have plenty of time, it’s all downhill and plus I have some people I’d like to say goodbye to…
I make the regular turns: left then right then left then right and…they’re not there! Not So Grumpy Old Dimitrius and Not So Grumpy Old Dimitrius’ Wife’s house is locked up! I am genuinely gutted. I wanted to ask their names; why on earth I didn’t do this sooner I have no idea and now I’m kicking myself. I also have some biscuits left over I was going to give to them. I figure I could leave them on the doorstep (well, pavement) but how would they know they were from me and it’s not like I have some post it notes in my suitcase I could quickly write a note on…and even if I did they wouldn’t be able to understand it anyway. Another reminder that in life you should do things while you can as you never know what is around the corner (that’s certainly the case around here, I can’t even work out what corner I’m on nevermind what is around it) and may never get the opportunity again; Carpe Diem and all that jazz. I trundle off deflated down the hill, bumping my weary case behind me.
Once in town I need to find a bakery to have one of these famous Skopelos cheese pies – and see if they’re actually any different to any of the other islands cheese pies. This one is baked fresh for me and it appears in a snail shape, which would have been a surprise had the spinach pie in Alonissos not been the same shape. I sit at the harbour with my pasty swigging from a can of Greek beer (well I wasn’t going to leave it was I, I did say I hate waste!) once again waiting for a man in a blue shirt. No such luck but I figure it’s too busy around here anyway, this is neither the time nor the place so I’m quite happy to leave when the next ferry appears and whisks me off.

The water is still very choppy after the storms so it’s a slightly queasy journey and I’m pleased with the slight break from the bumps when we stop in Glossa. This is the port nearest the famous Mamma Mia church so I’m surprised it appears quite low key, I was expecting lots of sightseeing party boats but it appears very peaceful and unpretentious…possibly the sort of place where you might find a fisherman! Damn why didn’t I stay here again?! Oh well, no changing plans now, I’m all ferried out; onward to Skiathos! My final Dimitrius hunting destination…

 

 

20170718_124031
No comments please, it’s a famous Skopelos cheese pie that’s what it is!
20170718_130531
It’s a sorry state of affairs when you can’t even lure a man in with a beer
20170718_133748
He’s behind you! Err no, he isn’t…
20170718_134031
Nevermind where’s Wally, where’s Dimitrius?!
20170718_134101
Bye bye Skopelos… and your bloomin’ sunshine today
20170718_135817
There’s a boat out there…should I swim to it and see if it’s him?
20170718_145638
Mamma Mia, here I go again…it’s Glossa
20170718_144853 (1)
Nevermind Dimitrius, where’s Colin Firth and Piers Brosnan?!
20170718_144831 (1)
Glorious Glossa
20170718_144835 (1)
If Dimitrius is at that port I will not be happy!
20170718_145457
Seasick sailing