After an action packed day yesterday, we allowed ourselves to sleep in (...again, hey it's vacation right?) and got ready for beach day. Derek and Camille had already been to the beach both evenings I'd been sidelined, but this was going to be my first trip to swim in the Mediterranean this trip. They had gone to beaches closer to the hotel (~30 mins by train) and were whelmed, so we decided to go all out and take the 1 hour tram ride to the extra special beach where all the high class resorts are.
Following what seemed like forever on the tram with some rowdy teenagers, we reached the end of the line and paid modestly to get into a beach club. There were dozens of rows of hundreds of cushioned chairs lining the beach almost none of which were occupied. 20 or so teens lined the beach hitting tennis balls back and forth with wooden paddles, and other than them we had the place to ourselves. There was an inflatable wonderland floating 10 meters off the beach with various different types of objects to climb on and (based oh how the kids were using it) push your friends off. We staked out some chairs, and an attendant came over informing us it was 2€ to use the cushioned chairs. When we offered to move he told us to forget about it and we were left alone.
Ham sandwich + raddler (aka shanty) + front row beach chairs = good way to spend the afternoon. We took a quick dip in the water which was right on the verge of being to cold. After you get your armpits wet the water turns the perfect temperature if you keep moving. We threw the frisbee around in the water and climbed out to sundry. Derek and Camille finished their books as I (not wanting to bring my iPad to ready my book) took a snooze.
We braved the hour ride back, ringed off the saltwater and sunscreen and went to dinner at another guide recommended restaurant. The venue seemed chic but the food was at or below average in my opinion. My chicken and figs over a squash purée turned into a sweet, sesame/Asian brown blob. The bruschetta to start was good although they tried to charge us for bread! What cheapskates! We took the 2€ we would have spent on bread and re-invested in something much more delicious: gelato from the shop next door. My nutella scoop hit the spot and we strolled back to the hotel well satiated save one desire: we had yet to drink ouzo in Greece.
We stop into the cafe next to our hotel and Derek and I order up two. The smell of licorice pierces the air as our waitress strolls back with two tall glasses of the clear liquid. "Opa!" Clink. Wince. It reminds me of one of my favorite aperitifs in France, Ricard, but in a bad way. I usually mix that with half water so we add a few ice cubes from the tray the waitress brought with our order. They quickly melt and a tantric wisp slowly fall from the cube and gathers at the bottom in a cloudy ring. Soon the whole glass is a light milky color. The burn of drinking straight liquor fades and the licorice comes to the front. After our first sip of the cooled ouzo, we determine Derek preferred it neat whereas I enjoy the chilled version much more. Finishing our ouzo while watching soccer, we retire for the night.
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