July 2004 Archives

(more pics)

We recently returned from spending a week on the Ionian island of Zakynthos in Greece. It was absolutely fabulous. We stayed at the Oniro Studios a couple of kilometers north of the resort town of Tsilivi. It was a bit of a fluke as we just phoned teletext a week before we wanted to go and asked for somewhere cheap on a Greek Island that was fairly quiet.

The location was brilliant. It was about a ten minute walk from the lovely, sparsely populated Ambouli beach. The beach was mildly pebbly, but not bad and the water was gorgeous. The road to the beach had about five or six lovely tavernas that served mainly Greek food (as opposed to burgers and chips), etc. The food was delicious. The local homemade wine was less so, but very very cheap. Actually one of the tavernas had wine that was remarkably good. Unfortunately I can't remember the name. "To Akroyali", perhaps. It was about half way down on the right hand side as you walk towards the beach. We also discovered a nice Zakynthian white wine called Verdea which is really very nice and about two and half Euros in the shops.

The studios themselves were lovely. From the back of our studio we had a gorgeous view over olive groves to the sea and Keffalonia. The kitchenette was decent: two rings, a fridge, and a modest supply of kitchenware. There was no air conditioning or tv but we didn't notice their absence really. If we were in our room and the heat became a bit too much, we just jumped in the pool. The bar at the Oniro was a bit pricey by local standards but the family who run the place were so friendly and charming that it was a small thing to forgive. There's a local shop run by the same family just across the road and the prices in it were quite reasonable compared with what we saw elsewhere on the island.

I forgot my driver's license so we went on a coach excursion in order to get to see the island and used the local bus service to check out Tsilivi and Zakythnos town. Tsilivi was a nightclub and resort strewn hell, but probably fun if you like that kind of thing. We heard that Lagana is even worse (or better, depending on your point of view). Zakynthos town was much prettier but it is just a Greek port town so don't expect any beaches or the like.

The local bus service to Tsilivi and Zakynthos was fine, by the way. Nice, air-conditioned buses, driven safely with a conductor who was helpful and spoke pretty decent English.

Anyway, it was gorgeous and we had a fantastic time.

The Salmon of Doubt is a posthumous collection of writings (some of them unfinished) by Douglas Adams. He died in 2001. It is a book I've been meaning to read since even before it existed. Perhaps since even before Douglas Adams died. Probably since about chapter two of the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. That's probably when I made the quiet internal decision to read everything this man would ever write.

Despite this sacred vow, I never did buy the book. I picked it up many times in various bookstores, turned it over lovingly in my hands and thought about buying it. But I was afraid. Because if I bought it, then I might read it and then where would I be? I suppose I felt that as long as there was a book out there I hadn't read yet, I could pretend he wasn't really dead. And so I avoided it like Larry Schenker (he used to be my friend in grade school but then he borrowed a couple of my records and refused to return them; he kept insisting that I had to go to his house to get them back but he lived on the opposite side of the school -- I hate Larry Schenker).

You can't avoid things forever though. Well, some things maybe you can. I saw Larry Schenker once after grade school in a bowing alley when I was about eighteen and I still managed to avoid him. It totally put me off my game, though. I was so angry. So that's two things you owe, Schenker: my record albums and an evening of undistracted bowling.

What does all this have to do with the photo, you wonder. Well, it's of my friend Leanne.

Is it just me or are all Canadians extremely quirky and just down right odd? Douglas Adams once wrote (in the Salmon of Doubt as it happens) that "Canada is like an intelligent 35 year old woman". At the time he was contrasting it with America - "belligerent adolescent boy" and Australia - "Jack Nicholson".

I think it is a very apt description. Canadians and intelligent 35 year old woman look normal and well-behaved. They're beautiful, but classy. They have developed beyond the brash belt-skirt and bra sexuality of some younger women (and certain countries south of the 49th parallel). However, all their poise and political correctness can't hide an underlying quirkiness and humour. Just see any episode of Sex and the City for examples. They're all nuts.

My friend Leanne is both Canadian and an intelligent 35 year old woman.

Well, actually, I have no idea how old she is, but, for the sake of argument, let's say she's 35.

She stayed at our house for a couple of days when she popped over to visit her husband who lives in Iceland.

It's a long story. They met in Canada. They got married. His Visa expired. He had to go back to Iceland. They're trying to get him back in the country. Etc.

Anyway. She was here visiting. And she looks normal. And she comes from a country that is widely considered boring and predictable and safe. And what did she leave me as a parting gift?

Jam. Thirteen little pots of jam.

In my bed.

What kind of person puts little pots of jam in their host's bed? This is not a sane and normal thing to do. When one retires for the evening, one doesn't expect to end up lying on a jar of blackcurrant flavoured condiment. Jam jars are lumpy. They are uncomfortable things to sleep on.

On the other hand, the jam was quite tasty.

Leanne also left behind a copy of the Economist and a slightly dog-eared copy of The Salmon of Doubt. The latter of which I am desperately trying not to read. But I can tell even now that I'm doomed.

So, not only did she leave jam in my bed, she also killed Douglas Adams.

(more pics from Tower 42)

(more pics from the Barbie)

In a way I'm glad they're gone. They were just too damn loveable. I never actually asked, but I'm sure most of my friends would have picked the stunning, sweet-as-a-pond-of-honey blonde over hirsute, grumpy old me. Proof of this is that they must have had a million leaving parties. Oh, actually, now that I think about it, the Tower 42 shindig was for Eric's birthday. Ha! Maybe they weren't all that popular after all.