Strips of Drink and Dance
Posted: Tuesday, August 14, 2007
by Sara O'Rourke
What had begun a very uncomfortable journey in what was evidently not a large enough area of space to classify as ‘economy,’- my bed for the next three or so hours through the humid night, turned into one of the most unforgettable weeks of my entire life. I can sincerely conclude I would not change a single thing, though I may have done, said, or seen ‘regrettables.’ If you’re asking me, it’s all part of growing up.
The initial self-catering idea was a glamorous, very bohemian one. I found the little supermarket at the end of the road, a pleasant walk from our apartments, rather sweet. And low and behold, we could legally purchase alcohol here, too, though I never actually got round to it. I, instead, preferred my usual groceries of giant apples and scented peaches- Corfu ’s impressive natural produce.
The first night out, I’m embarrassed to say that I retired back to my room with a friend relatively early on. I was not yet ‘hardcore’ enough to stay up until the night really came alive. That was around 22:00. Determined to make up for it, the following night we headed to the infamous Hedkandi night at Future & Atlantis, Corfu ’s biggest club. Dressed in a shimmering, short gold piece, with a red flower in my hair, I attacked the night ahead with confidence and prowess. Kavos centre was buzzing. Full of electricity, thumping basses and pushy (but amicable) reps down two winding strips of drink and dance.
One of my best friends and I, we quickly settled into the new lifestyle of making friends with everybody. At Hedkandi, we met two gorgeous men from the Navy. Incomparable on all levels to the guys we had to settle for back at home, these were real men. We would stay in touch throughout the holiday.
On a more geographical note, our resort was beautiful. The sea was clear as glass, and the sand was beige and smooth. Almost too good to skinny-dip in- I say almost. Our routine rapidly developed itself- we’d party during the night, and sleep on the beach or by the pool by the day, gathering a generous bronzing. I easily won when it came to having the best tan, but that was always one thing that I thanked my Italian heritage for.
One midday, having awkwardly stumbled to the pool with my roommates, I was stung by a wasp. This particular day seemed to go downhill for me. First, my entire right leg decided to swell, and to top it off, that evening I felt too unwell to stay out. I was such a lightweight. This nocturnal shift in my activities was not sticking well. Apparently I missed a great evening on the beach.
That evening, while I slept away the burning pain in my stomach, one of my guy mates came into my room, couldn’t make out whether he cried or laughed as he clambered onto my bed. Two of my friends had run away, they were missing. He was crying. Still half asleep and yet alarmed by the news, I quickly threw a cardigan on top of my bra and ran out of the apartment, key safely in hand. At the bar downstairs, he who had throughout the holiday so far proclaimed himself to be the responsible one, (and who was being very rude to the rest of us,) was having a very friendly conversation with the barman. He was obviously drunk- though this was funnily something he regretted we point out to him later, while he lay in the middle of the road. Outside was one of the missing girls, smoking with two men she had brought home, totally sober and puffing her stresses away. Relieved to see her, and yet distraught about the latter, I couldn’t calm down yet. Luckily, she was in her bed the next morning, armed with an empty bottle of champagne.
A little hiccup is nothing a tight group of friends cannot power through. The holiday was definitely testing our bonds. For a short period of time, we separated into those who just wanted to have fun, those who felt they should remain mutual, and those, or rather, one person, who decided to totally distance himself from us and complain. Who were we kidding, though? We had all paid for this holiday, we had better enjoy ourselves! We continued to do so, regardless of who was attempting to hold us all back, shall we say.
The next memorable night was one themed, much to our delight, as angels and devils. Excited, we hurried to Kavos town to purchase our outfits. Between us, the boys went as angels, while the girls shared it equally, having two of each. I, myself, had packed a previously-used Pimp’s and Hoe’s Basque, and added to it a new garter, red horns and a whip. I lost my whip that night, something which I haven’t got over yet. That night was called Trinity, in team with the Ministry of Sound, and a phenomenal evening. Us girls jumped up onto the bar in full arrogance, and moved to the live beats of the Pied Piper at our side.
I am proud to say it, even if I shouldn’t be, but I spent a total of three out of seven nights at my apartment. I won’t enlighten you with my exact whereabouts, but at the end of the seven days, each of us were ready to leave, and, perhaps most importantly, intact. I left Kavos, Corfu , on the recovery from my first ever experience of severe alcohol poisoning, a few new piercings, and a thousand priceless memories I will treasure forever. ‘What happens in Corfu, stays in Corfu …well, almost.’
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Top-level comments on this article: (1 total)Sara, Oh to be young again! I guess I'll just have to vicariously live through your experience. LOL. Thanks, I enjoyed to ride.
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