And Now For Something Completely Different: The Pink Palace, Part 1 of 2

THE PINK PALACE

The Greek Island of Corfu is known for its amenities, luxurious beaches, hotels, restaurants, and particularly effective public transportation system, but far away from the major towns, in a little cove, the laws of hedonism take over, and at an affordable price.


We arrived at The Pink Palace at eight o'clock in the morning. The ten-hour bus and ferry ride regurgitated fifteen sleep-deprived Canadians on the doorstep of a giant pink complex, where a blond woman with a Texan accent hollered, "Throw yr bags in the luggage room and join us at the bar." Check-in involved shots of pink Ouzo, a psych-up speech, and a buffet breakfast; it felt like a camp orientation on mushrooms. My girlfriend and I snagged a second Ouzo from the Canadian newbies at our table and waited.

We were shown to our room by a woman who'd stepped straight out of a dumb blonde joke: balloon-breasted, breathy-voiced, dressed in pink. She'd come to the Pink Palace from Canada on vacation and ended up taking a job there in order to keep partying. She told us we weren't allowed booze in our rooms but added that she didn't really care. We'd made reservations in advance and this turned out to be vital: the rooms are a good size but semi-hostel style, with three beds in each room. Without the reservation, we would’ve probably had to deflect some creepy sexual advances in the middle of the night. The rooms have private bathrooms and cost 25 euros (like 35 bucks) per person with breakfast and a three-course dinner included. And the view… the view is pure Greek island with a long beach wrapping around to cliffs that jut straight out of the waves, as you can see.


Our choice of activities was extensive: kayaking, guided quad safari, booze-cruise, mopeds, a pool-sized hot tub, pool, or foosball, but we opted for naps on complimentary lounge chairs at the beach. All the traveling and Ouzo had knocked us out; in the three days prior we'd seen the Irish grunge band Therapy?, went to the 1st International Athens Tattoo Convention, and drank Ouzo and smoked weed on the slippery marble rocks beneath Acropolis Hill until sun-rise. Our minds were at least three days behind our bodies and our souls were still missing.

To be continued...