Life’s a Trampoline in Corfu

« Return to Greece

For the past three weeks I had been moving house roughly every two nights, so staying put for a week in one place (never mind one country) was quite surprising. As surprising, say, as finding myself on the Greek island of Corfu, rock jumping into the Aegean Sea and flying over a bungee trampoline at a water park. Lazy days on a hot, sandy beach had the makings of, dare I say it, a holiday. But before you wonder how this differs from last week’s lazy days on a hot, pebbly, beach, I’ll explain myself. I stayed at a popular backpacker resort, miles away from anywhere save for the beach and the best sunset this side of Brazil. Resort might be too strong a word; Sunrock is like a Greek drama that plays out with a cast of 70-odd travelers, overworked, manic staff, drunk karaoke, the crystal Aegean, a couple hyperactive kids and the symbolic Greek granny, head to toe in black. Breakfast and dinner included, and the prop department outdid themselves with the olive trees, blue water, rugged coastline and Monet sunsets.

Greece was not on the Modern Gonzo itinerary because I have been here before; island hopping from Athens to Santorini and swallowing as many olives in-between. But Albania, being as obscure as it is, did not have the cheap transport options to get me the hell out of it and on my way north to Budapest. Cursing my planning and budget, I looked long and hard for a means to get back north, as Hungary was definitely on my agenda and I’d been fantasizing about the flight from Budapest to Istanbul. It sounds terrifically James Bondish. Without Moneypenny or the Secret Service’s credit card, I figured Corfu would have the best deals and was right. Corfu to Vienna on Austrian Airlines for just 114 Euros! (Vienna is a three-hour train from Budapest). Only problem, I would have to wait a week to catch the flight, and considering other options would cost double the price and save me just a few days, I decided to spend the week catching my breath, meeting some people, and flying in the air like a duck drunk on cognac.

Corfu was seething with tourists, zipping about in scooters and hired cars, shopping amongst the throngs of souvenir stores in Corfu Town, frying on its many beaches. Now that Greece has on the Euro, prices have increased considerably since I was here last six years ago. Apparently, tourism is down as Greece is no longer the bargain it once was. Coupled with the cost of the recent Olympic Games, its not surprising the Greeks are fuming over their strong coffees. The Greek tourist honeymoon started in the 60’s, culturally peaked with Zorba and survived constant political turbulence throughout the past few decades. Whether it will survive the Euro is another matter. Nico thinks it will take ten years, Spiro disagrees. In the meantime, life isn’t getting any easier for either of them.

I chose Sunrock because it looked swell and was the cheapest hostel I could find, 20 Euros a night. That did however include the two meals, and meeting so many backpackers more than made up for their dearth in Albania. There was nothing to do but drink in the hot, summer nights, and freckelize (new word!) on the beach in the scorching day, read a few books (A Fine Balance, The Best Political Writing of 2004), do some writing, watch some DVD’s, you know, relax. Phillipe was leaving back for New Caledonia via Venice, Paris and Sydney, and a fitting farewell was needed for the Frenchman, who I had first met many miles and many months ago amongst the salt deserts of Bolivia. We had connected in Argentina, traveled throughout Brazil, connected again in Croatia, and traveled throughout Albania, and he is responsible for taking some of the amazing pictures of me doing amazingly stupid things. He is also responsible for talking me into doing many of those things too (it was his idea to go to Albania). We decided to spend our last day getting baked at Aqualand, a huge water park on Corfu, which would surely provide opportunity for some last minute Gonzo action. I haven’t been to a water park since I was fourteen or so, and sliding and slipping down the tubes, stripping my back of its flesh, was great fun in the sun. It was not until we came across the Bungee Trampoline that we took things to the next level. The trampoline acts as bouncing point for two taut elastic straps that are strapped onto you by either side. This allows you to catapult yourself 20 meters in the air, pulling on the straps to gain extra elevation and doing somersaults mid-air. Exhausting, thoroughly crazy stuff, especially when you’re high on life already.

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