Day 2,17:42 hrs, Panormos Beach Bar, Mykonos
Day 3, 05:42 hrs, Cavo Paradiso Club, Mykonos
THE aOaiD OF HEIMEREN
wheel the handcart full of heavy cases of beers over cobblestones. It's hot.
I'm sweating. And I can see Antonini looking at me with a slight concern. I
reassure him that I'm fine, we're good to continue. Does anybody consider
this when they drink a beer on the beach?
Finally, Antonini wheels out of Hora and onto the open road.
"We're going to Panormos to deliver some beer; we'll meet Pimpas and
Kontovraki there," he declares as the Piaggo pulls up the hill, overlooking
the intense sunshine hitting the blue of the Aegean.
Dropping down into a small canyon we descend towards a bay. A
beach—one of 52 on Mykonos—slowly comes into sight. We see what looks
like an army camp, a massive sand-coloured camouflage net stretched over
a wide area.
"We're here," Antonini tells me, taking a trolley filled with crates of
Heineken in hand across the sand, towards the enclosure. There, two
handsome brothers, Giorgos Zaglaros and Dimos Zaglaros, and Giorgos'
partner, Ruth, greet us.
"Ah, good, the beer! We've been waiting." Giorgos Zaglaros says leading
us into the compound.
Once inside we see that the camouflage is hiding a small paradise of
soft pastel-coloured chairs and sofas, low tables where people munch on
freshly prepared seafood. An ambience of relaxation permeates. Giorgos, a
former male model, and Dimos, an ex-footballer, run what some call
Greece's most chic beach club.
"Well, I don't know, we love the nature. You know, the simple things. I
like playing volleyball and windsurfing so that's why, when we found this
place five years ago, we thought, 'Let's make a nice beach place for our
friends.'" Note that when Giorgos Zaglaros talks about his "friends" he
means the crème de la crème of Athenian elite—media, music and sports
celebrities—as well as a few international stars too.
"Harrison Ford was here twice, that was a nice compliment. We have
other international celebrities, too. I want to make a feeling of philoxenia,
which loosely means 'hospitality,' but actually means 'friend of foreigners,'
if you translate literally. I like that; I want everyone to feel equal, respected,
but when it comes time for reservations," he says lifting his eyes skyward,
"It becomes harder. How do you tell a government minister he can't
have a table near his favourite pop star? It gets messy, but we manage." He
notes that while the crowd to Mykonos is becoming more exclusive/more
diverse, the homosexual clientele—who were once Mykonos' best tourists,
at least in terms of how many euros they spent—are lessening. "It's a
shame, but half the island doesn't appreciate their tourism. So, gays aren't
visiting in the same numbers as before."
"That's a real pity," he says with a shrug.
On the topic of beer and the beach, Giorgos Zaglaros is unequivocal
about the fact that people enjoy beer when they're enjoying the sun.
"Oh sure, everyone loves beer, especially when it's cold. That's why Giorgos
Pimpas here is going to get me one of those nice new super-cold fridges.
Right, Giorgos?" he asks jokingly.
"Sure, we just have to figure out where to put it, but it's coming in the
PAGE 16
next few weeks," Pimpas tells him as he sits leisurely in a bean chair
overlooking the surf.
Panormos is a natural beach, so there are no umbrellas, no lounge-
chairs. Therefore, it's not hard to spot the final destination of our story, a
consumer's hand, holding a cold beer, sipping its refreshing contents under
the hot sun. As the volleyball players hit a ball over the club's net and a
Heineken flag flaps in the wind, three women and a man enjoy Heineken
from bottles, laughing as they do. I approach them slowly to enquire why
they have chosen to drink beer, over other beverages. One of the bottles of
Heineken that we've been travelling with is quite possibly now in their
hands. Martha loakimidi, a Greek media professional from Thessalonica,
stares at her friends, Joana Noronita from London and Loli Philppedes from
Bulgaria.
"Gosh, I never thought about it like that: why a beer on the beach? Well,
it's pretty perfect, isn't it? You certainly don't want to be drinking fizzy
drinks or readymade cocktails and Breezers at this time. Beer just quenches
your thirst so well, it's really nice to sip, especially when it stays cold. I
mean, later I'll drink a cocktail, but for now until the evening, we'll have
some beers, relax."
"I like the colour of beer in the sun, it's so pretty and golden," says the
Londoner. Her Bulgarian friend adds a caveat: "Greek people drink a lot of
frappé and I like that too, but yeah, it's true, that can be too much sugar.
Beer is really nice."
Looking out at the sun worshippers, the activity-inclined, the small
families and the hipsters who pose giamorousiy in Prada and Gucci shades, I
realise that beer and the beach truly are natural kin, born to create the
same vibe. Beer is a relaxed product, a drink meant to slow down time a
bit. With a Mediterranean sun slowly setting, that's exactly the desired
effect that one would want: time to stand still, to stay this way for as long
as possible.
Nothing lasts forever, though, no matter how hard you try. A perfect day
on the beach must, at some time, yield to night, and this day has
reluctantly succumbed to evening. We're at Cavo Paradiso, Mykonos' super
club, a place perched on a high cliff overlooking the sea. The crowd is just
arriving—it's just starting to happen now—there will be dancing until the
sun comes up and beyond (some of the Cavo Paradiso parties last until
