MBG in Europe

A little bit more of life in Corfu

Friends,

Even with a 7 hour break during the day I have failed to stay on top of my blogging, regrettably. Most days seem to fill up by themselves with the happenings of life here in Ag Gordios, Corfu. There is, afterall, one of the most beautiful beaches in Europe just a short walk down the hill. There is, afterall, a couple of guitars and my harmonica and more than a few capable musicians always passing through (last week we had two Finnish Luthieries who brought a 1940’s Harmony acoustic and a 12-string that they made themselves). There are, afterall, people my age from all over the world and a 24 hour fully-stocked bar.There are others things too… Kayaks and quads and books and volleyball, etc., etc. I beg you forgive me…

And now that I have your attention, here’s a little bit more insight into my life working at the Pink Palace in Corfu, Greece:

If there were one solitary word to describe the atmosphere of Greece and the Greek people (the men, at least), it would be horny. Because they love sex and they love honking. Everything can be put into a sexual context, I’ve learned. Makis, one of the long-term staffers and Corfu native and Greek dancer, is the undisputed king of sexuality. My Greek vocabulary is limited to the essentials (those essentials according to Makis). I won’t try to spell them, but the words I know in Greek are: hello, please, thank you, you’re welcome, cheers (yamas!), friend, asshole (malaka), blow job, fag, gay, orgy (partouza). You now, just enough to get by…

Yesterday Makis offered to take me for a spin on his motorcycle. Knowing it was a loaded question, I gulped and obliged. 10 minutes later we were on a narrow backstreet passing two cars at 200 kilometers per hour without helmets on and I was simultaneously taing stock of my short life and screaming for my mommy. Could you hear me, Mom? Maybe I’ll never live it down, but I’m glad I lived through it. I’ll never go for another ride with Makis again, that crazy malaka.

In the last couple weeks the busboys (perhaps the most notorious of jobs here at the Pink Palace - we get paid to drink and flirt and for most of the boys the summer is a competition at picking up chicks) got a new boss, Vito, or as we call him, the Godfather. Vito used to be a sprightly young buck like us and he worked 7 summers in a row from 97 to 02. He’s a legend. He’s told us stories of this place back in the heyday (they used to get 1,000 guests at a time in the middle of peak season). The Godfather says that Antoni, the angry cook on the dinner line, slept with Nicoletta, the fat and crazy cat woman who works the kayaks and lives in the dilapitated shack on the beach. Now when he pissed us off during dinner service we smile big and say, ‘ziki ziki Nicoletta’ and he shuts up.

July 1st was Canada day, always the biggest party day of the summer at The Pink Palace (for some reason Canadians flock to this place like their geece that come to Norht Carolina to spend their summer shitting all over Freedom Park - I’ve learned all I know about Canada in the past month, I think I can even name all the provinces and their capitals). Instead of Ouzo we drank champagne after Greek dancing. It was quite a night, but I thin the 4th of July was bigger. We started drining beer in the AM and soon got the idea to resurrect the Godfather’s fabled ‘Kayak Club’ which consists of buying a case of beer and loading it onto a kayak and wading out in to the ocean and getting wasted and talking shit all day. We went through 3 cases and, against all odds, the busboys were able to make it through dinner service and continue drinking through the night despite the boss’s (not the Godfather, the head bartender ‘Little George’) demands of cutting us off until we all passed out in various places still wearing our pink satin togas with smeared red, white, and blue facepaint covering our bodies. I think I sang ‘Born in the USA’ more than 10 times that day. Justin, AKA The Rooster -fellow busboy, frat boy from Florida - was excused from the club after face planting during Ouzo circle clean up (another of our duties is sweeping up all of the bits of broken plate after the plate-smashing ceremony that follows the traditional Greek dancing and ouzo - champagne that night - drinking on every toga night). Even Geoff embraced the spirit of Independce Day and let me paint a flag on his chest. It was a wild night.

Against all odds, Hannah and I are still maintaining a functional relationship here. She’s still the coolest girl around, it’s just on nightsl ike last night - when she went to party in town and I had to work and then I got invited to skinny dip with three girls from Quebec and I did, of course, but that’s all I did - that I rethink this exclusive relationship deal. We’ll just have to see how it goes. Last week we celebrated 200 day - another busboy, my roommate Adam, had sex with his 200th girl so we made a cake and threw a party the next day. I think he’s at 205 now, though…

Also seemingly against all odds, I gave in and got a haircut. Nothing drastic, I still have my glorious curls, but the hair to my neck thing was getting bothersome and it’s hitting the upper-90’s now so something had to give. Thanfully Abraham, one of the Albanians, nows how to cut hair from his father, a barber, and did a great job for free. I bought him a beer.

Surely there is much more to be said but I’ll have to leave the good stories for when I get back - don’t forget to ask me about how Dr. George, the owner of the Pink Palace, came to be known as such (I’ll give a hint - he doesn’t have a PhD).

I must confess that I’m already planning my next 3 three trips - driving from Seattle to Alaska, touring Australia and New Zealand, and hitting every country in South and Central America by car of motorcycle. I am convinced that life is fulfilled by traveling and I aim to travel as much as possible while I’m young. I was also invited by Clint, a gust who came through here about a week ago, to join him on his round-the-world sailing trip in a couple years. It’s all good.

OK. Jake, fellow busboy from Seattle just waling in with his guitar on his shoulder so that means I have to go…

Know that I miss you. Trust that I’m safe. Feel that I love you from so far away. (song potential??). Stay fresh, friends.

Love, life, etc.,

MBG from Corfu.

PS.

I’m 21.

Thanks for the birthday love that I was sure I could feel all day on Saturday.

Half-eaten Tuna Fish Sandwich, chachahchahchacha

Friends,

For my silence I apologize. Lots has happened in the past week and half since Geoff and I returned to Corfu and started working at The Pink Palace, one of the biggest and most famous (party) hostels in the world. Our jobs (busboys) mean wework for an hour in the morning setting tables for dinner (sometimes we have to set for 240 guests and soon the number will be around 500!) and then working in the club from 8 until 2 (‘working’ consists of picking up empty glasses, cleaning up spills, dancing, drinking, and flirting with guests).

During the day we hang out on the beach or around the bar or wherever the cool people are, or we sleep. One of the other busboys has a guitar and there’s a pretty good collection of books here too (I’m reading a western called “H&R Cattle Company” - Fast Fortunes and Faster Six-Guns!).

So, I’m spending the summer here in Greece. The people here at the Pink Palace are amazing and I’ve got a really good group of friends in the staff here. There’s Nick from Brooklyn, the late night bouncer who talks shit about everyone - “Look at this fuckin’ guy,” he says. There’s Makis, the manager who also does Greek dancing with on Ouzo Circle nights (think traditional Greek music, shots of Ouzo, plate smashing, and everyone wearing togas) and has taken a liking to me, a frighteningly bromance is blooming. There’s Andy, the funny DJ in the club who wears his nurse outfit only twice a year. There are lots of people.

There are lots of girls, too. Canadian girls, American girls, Australian girls, Spanish girls, Swedish girls. Way more girls than guys. And everyone knows the staff guys are the hottest around. And in this sea of girls, as usual, I managed to attach myself to just one, Hannah, the cute Canadian bartender who I flirted with relentlessly when I was a guest. All of the other staff say it’s stupid to get involved at The Pink Palace, but we don’t care.

The other night around 4 a few of us, Nick included, piled into Gareth’s van (a stickshift van?!) and drove into Corfu town for crepes. On the winding cliffside drive we looked out at the ocean and the few lights from the small town below and the stars above everything and Hannah said something like, “I can’t believe we live here.” And I didn’t realize it until then that I live here.

I live in paradise.

I’ll write more about the details of my life soon (ish - my 7 hour break is usually spent on the beach far away from a computer), the Wednesday crossdress nights, the toga parties, the people, me and Justin’s I’m On A Boat Pink Palace Remix (coming to a youtube near you, I promise). For now, I just want you all to know I’m doing great and I’m still missing you and still wishing you could be here.

I’ll be back at the beginning of August, just in time for the Avett Brothers album-release party.

If you can come to Corfu this summer, please do. I not, I’ll take lots of photos and write as much as I can.

Love, Life, Beach, Etc.,

MBG from the reception bar at The Pink Palace in Corfu, Greece, Europe, the world, the universe, in one thread of my pink satin toga, the most important article of clothing I own.

Summer in Greece.

Broke in Athens

When you have no money, everything about the world changes. Yesterday Geoff’s small bag was stolen from right under our noses. In it was his wallet and passport and our fishing gear and some other random stuff. A big blow to the morale. Today Geoff and I spent 45 minutes in the supermarket deliberating how best to spend our last 3.65 to quiet our hungry bellies. We did it beautifully, buying some supplies to make mini sandwiches and 1.5L’s of cola and water. As we ate we talked aobut how broke, but happy we are. Life refuses to be less than exciting and interesting and satisfyingly awesome. Our last week was spent island hopping - Paros, Ios, Santorini - with some friends form the Pink Palace. I have a lot to show and tell but not the time right now. Tomorrow we get back to Corfu where we have jobs, hopefully, waiting for the summer. I’ll post again very soon, friends. I’m missing you all greatly. I think I’ll write a book in my free time this summer. That’s all.

THE spot.

Traveling with Geoff has been great. Since I’ve hung out with him every single day for the last 5 weeks straight we’ve gotten to know each other pretty well. In some ways I know Geoff better than many of the people I know. And, on account of this proximity, we’ve developed an interesting dialect, per se, in our conversational English. Since it’s his third language he’s constantly getting better and since I’ve been traveling in non-English speaking countries for such a long time, my own English has changed a little bit on it’s own. So, with me always using unfamiliar words and then explaining their meanings (sometimes accidentally using more unfamiliar words that need further explaining) and Geoff translating expressions from French or German, for better or worse, the dialect that we use together is truly unique.

All that is to say that we’ve got a sort of rhythm, or some kind of consistency, with some of the things we say and one of our most common phrases is to declare ‘spots’ - places where the right intersection of events and/or feelings culminate into a state of perfection and satisfaction for us. So far ‘spots’ have included the rock beach in Nice in the morning after the night train, big bottles of Heineken on the ledge of a bridge in Florence on a Saturday night with the lights lining the streets dancing in the water, cigarettes at the Coliseum in Rome at night after a big meal of pizza, and on the fishing boat at 6:30 in the morning with Papi steering and us sighing and yawning and a couple of big ones in our bucket. For the most part the spots just keep getting better and more frequent. Geoff and I are really living it up. And yesterday, we found THE spot here in Corfu, Greece.

We rented a couple kayaks from the Pink Palace and set off for the big rock island at the end of the beach to the left. We paddled and laughed and talked and got high on the color of the water, a brilliant turquoise, and how far down we could see the sandy, wavy sea floor. Soon we were at the rock and swimming around in our states of natural ecstasy and then we got back in and paddled a little further down where we found some good spots for cliff diving (not 22 meters, alas). We climbed up the peculiar metamorphic rocks (the boulders were just a bunch of smaller rocks held together by a bunch of even smaller rocks, etc.) and flew back into the sea. On a big one I dove in with my fists clenched in front of me like superman and maybe a I really did fly for a few seconds. Geoff went after me and hit the water bent and came up screaming for his balls. He eventually recovered and we decided to paddle back for a lunch of €4 ‘Double Gyros’.

Back at the rock island we parked for a little while on a tiny beach (really just a patch of sand in between two boulders) and took in the sun and watched the seagulls fly threateningly around their rock island. I waded into the clear brilliant turquoise water and sat down in the shallows and floated on my back in the perfect me-sized space between more rocks. In that moment I was beaming with all kinds of positiveness and I looked over at Geoff and we didn’t have to say anything, but I did anyway. “This is THE spot, man.” He smiled and laughed a little and sighed and looked around and shook his head and then looked back at me and confirmed, “you’re fucking right man, wooohoooo!” Then I closed my eyes and beamed this good feeling to everyone I care about everywhere and I wished Bailey was there and I wished everyone was there and I thanked all the gods I don’t believe in and I thanked my own undeclared personal gods and I felt the sunlight hit my face and then it spread, into my heart and all around my floating body.

And then we got back in our kayaks and paddled all the way back, stopping to dive into the deepest bluest awesomest places and we ate those gyros and drank some beers and played basketball and took naps and then it was dinner time. At The Pink Palace you get complimentary 3-course meal (soup, Greek salad and main course) every night and they make sure to seat the guys and girls together and we met some cute Canadians and after dinner the staff organized a big flip cup tournament (on our first night it was traditional Greek dancing - Geoff and I both got selected to dance in the center with pretty girls in front of everyone - and we all got free shots of ouzo and plates smashed on our heads) and my team - me, my Canadian friend, Dave, and 7 Canadian girls - placed 3rd with a 3-2 record and then we played lots of quarters and drank lots of pints (happy hour is 6-11 at The Pink Palace) and danced to only the good songs (I screamed like a girl when Prince’s “Kiss” came on - for you, Maxi) and we all decided we loathe the this Lady Ga Ga bitch and then at midnight, rightly pissed, we swam in the ocean naked and then in the Jacuzzi and at one point I fell over a glass window and was bleeding all over the place and this cute girl cleaned me up and we all stayed up until 5 AM talking and listening to music and such until they had to leave for the mainland and then we went to sleep.

When we woke up this morning we were smiling like fools and our heads hurt but who cares and we went and our Brit friend, everybody’s friend, Alex cooked us up some eggs, breakfast also complimentary, and then we spent the beach on the day, or something like that, throwing a football around and diving into the brilliant water (brilliant is the only word that comes close, I’ve decided) and reading (“Eat Pray Love,“ a chick book I picked up from an Aussie in Praia di Mare, kinda annoying but cool story, good message) and drinking cold Coronas and collectively remember last night with our new friends now it’s already 6:30 and dinner is in 2 hours and then we’ll have to do it all over again. Our tan lines are insane. My hair is so so long and curly from the salt water, I look like a real Greek, maybe, I hope.

The west coast of Corfu is THE spot.

If you’re reading this I really really with a big bloody piece of my big bloody heart wish you could be here with me and Geoff and all of these awesome folks we now know. I can’t wait to tell you all about it.

I love you. So much.

MBG from room 130 at The Pink Palace in Corfu, Greece, Europe, the World, the Universe, in a molecule of brilliant turquoise water in that me-sized spot near the rock island at the end of the beach to the left.