Day 2,11:30 hrs, Hora, Mykonos
Summer 2006
Sales Representative Athenian Brewery S.A.
Tonight's dinner of squid hangs on the line
Giorgos Pimpas,"
states with a flourish. Still, he considers the pre-tourist period a far more
romantic time for Mykonos.
"There was a special atmosphere then. Before all the tourists, it was
Mykonosian, authentic. Now we get all the weekend-package tourists and
that's a bit hard to handle on a personal level," admits Ploumistos.
"Business-wise it's great, but sometimes I wonder. But we Mykonosians
know how to take care of people, we have a spirit of hospitality."
Before I know it, Antonini is beckoning me to come with him on a
deliveries run from the warehouse to outlets in the city, pushing over his
paperwork on the passenger seat of the small Piaggio vehicle that
transports the drinks to outlets. It's a jest and everyone is laughing, but I
signal that I'm up for the challenge; I'm all for helping deliver cases of beer.
Ploumistos questions whether I can handle the deliveries.
"This is going to be difficult physical labour, you'll really have to deliver
heavy crates. Are you sure?" he asks worriedly. I wave him off: no problem,
that expensive gym membership has been readying me for situations just
like this. Besides, it will be a chance to take the beer to the end station of
our journey: the beach. We'll deliver to two of Mykonos' most famous beach
clubs, Panormos and Super Paradise. Much as in the ferry ride over, I have
no idea what I'm getting myself into.
Antonini is laughing as he winds down the hill from the wholesale
warehouse towards the city. He does this job in the morning, then takes
lunch and continues on with his father's construction business in the
afternoon. He's getting married soon, and is in the process of building a
house to live in with his new bride.
"I have to work hard, it costs a lot to build here in Mykonos," he tells
me. Soon Antonini enters the catacomb-like interior of the old town. It's
quiet now, everyone sleeps in the afternoon; the Greeks to escape the heat,
the tourists to recover from last night's clubbing. The passageways are so
narrow that even our motorised three-wheeler barely fits through the
immaculately white alleys. I don't know how Antonini manages to
manoeuvre these places and reach the restaurants. In fact, it's such a maze
that eventrying to figure out where you are would be a task. Talk about
local knowledge.
Manage he does though, and at every stop he slaps a back and
exchanges some pleasantries.
"Antonini! How's your wedding coming along?" someone calls out, to
which he only sighs.
"Expensive! Building a house costs money, my friend," he returns as we
PAGE IS
