We docked in Ios, with Andrew looking worse than I'd ever seen him (not saying anything, afro tumbling around his face, and between you and me, slightly whiffy). We had heard many good things about Far Out camping, and indeed, we probably would have taken this option, had it not been for the word 'camping'. Ted and I had not camped since our days as cub scouts, and Dani had many bad memories of summer camp days...so we instead chose the next recommendation in the book - Francesco's. Having avoided all the hotel men and their dogs, we stumbled towards a line of young men, all holding the signs of their respective backpacker resorts. Dani was first to egg them on by shouting
"Come on you turds! Sell it to us!" It was then that we spotted the young man with the Francesco's sign, and followed him to his mini-van. As we drove up the hill into the village, he told us many tales of Ios' famous nightlife (mostly involving goats and whipped cream). We arrived in the car park where he pointed out the Fun Pub (which showed American films every day), and we hiked up another hill, through the small and intimate streets of Ios town (or as the regular party-people call it 'the village').
We got our rooms, and Jazzman instantly collapsed on his bed, overcome with sorrow and lost pride at his earlier drunken ramblings. We had our free shots of vodka/ouza/yuckynastydrink, and Mrs Francesco went and tended to the Jazzman. Dani then also decided that he had drunk enough, and wished us a good night. Ted, the judge and I however, had other ideas. We had a couple of drinks down at the bar, where we were joined by a small, hairy man. He was possibly the most intense person I had ever met, with a steely stare and exaggerated mannerisms. He told us tales with such enthusiasm that we were sure he would have exploded had we talked about something REALLY interesting. We all decided to go out and explore town. Judge looked a bit woozy already by this time of the evening.
"Are you ok, Zack?" Ted asked
"Well, I'm absolutely ffiiiiiinnnnnnnneeeeee!" whimpered Judge as he fell on his ass. He then got up, and shoved his head into a hole in the wall, claiming "this is a very useful hidey-hole!" We had been given tickets for free shots at the Francesco-owned Blue Note Bar, but first we would find the main square and sample the atmosphere.
I was amazed. How many bars is it possible to fit into one small square? There must have been at least 12 or 13 in a 30ft long square, and the atmosphere was just madness - we would have a lot of fun here. We had a few more drinks in the Red Bull bar and the 69 bar, including having a bit of a dance in a few more, when Judge pointed out another Toronto Jew girl. We then moved on to the Blue note bar, and already everything was getting a bit blurry, and by this point Judge was completely steaming. "Hows about a little rinkytinkydrinkypoos?" he asked us. We took out our vouchers and were shown into the Blue note bar. There was no one in there (apart from a couple of mingers and the bar staff), so we all got two big cocktails and downed them. After a bit of drunken Mick Jagger dancing, and Judge warding off some of the girl-staff trying to make him buy another drink, we made our way back to the square. We probably would have gone back to Francesco's, had it not been for the intervention of one of our favourite ex-Pink Palacers - Mikey 'The Legend' Cryderman.
"Guys! Yeah, yeah, yeah!" In a moment of sheer joy, Edward, Michael and I embraced in a 3-way hug, leaping in the air. We then realised we were being watched by the entire square, and punched each other on the shoulders in manly ways. "Yeah yeah yeah! The legends are reunited!" screamed Mikey. He was then joined by a feminine-looking young man, who Mikey introduced as his new travel-buddy. They then pinched each other and ran off giggling like young girls. Yannis instantly took a huge dislike to Mikey, and told us how he would nail him if he ever came across him back in Canada. It was 3:30AM, so Judge, Ted and I treated ourselves to one more drink - the deadly slippery nipple, and then returned to Francesco's where the room span, and we could get about 5 hours sleep.
Ted and I awoke with splitting headaches, so we decided to take it out on the TJs. Their room had become a plague-pit. Andrew, still dying of dehydration and shame, lay unconscious on his bed, soaking in a mixture of sweat and mineral water. Dani had become very dehydrated overnight, despite drinking about 10 litres in the last 6 hours. Judge was severely hung over and still sleeping soundly.
Ted and I found ourselves wandering the streets, and had a ridiculously over-priced breakfast in the village. We came across Dani on his way to the Doctor, and also met Yannis and his fiancé, who had agreed to be his wife only a few days previously (congratulations you two!). With the weather not so good, we spent the rest of the day buying junk food, and then collecting Judge and Jazz to watch some Jim Carrey films.
We met up with Yannis and his fiancé at Francesco's bar, had a few drinks, and listened to Yannis ranting about how good feta cheese was, and we all (minus Andrew) went out in the village for the evening. We also met up with Mikey, and a Swedish girl that he had been 'courting'. One of the nice young men standing outside the bars touting for business spotted Will's Arsenal polo shirt and declared himself a Gooner. Hurrah! As a result, we went into his fine drinking establishment, bought some beverages, and were bestowed with free shots. Hurrah again! With the DJ at our mercy,Will wandered up to him and requested some Jagger. Not two minutes had elapsed when some fake-ass version of 'Satisfaction' came on. Will pouted his lips, waved his finger in the style of Robert Pires, and shook is booty, thus igniting the joyful entity that is his 'groove thang'. Crowds gathered, women fainted, Gods were born and passed away. It was a three minutes that history will never be allowed to forget. What a man. We moved onto a few more bars, drank more free shots, saw more Toronto Jewesses and went for celebratory giros at Porky's. Ah, what joy. Thus endeth the lesson.
We awoke feeling all Jaggered out, and we all decided that, as the weather had improved, that we would use the facilities at Far Out Camping (i.e. sit on the beach all day). The TJs sat in the shade and played cards (as seemed to be the trend for them on this trip), whilst Ted and I continued to top up our already impressive tans. After a few hours, we became restless, and decided to ask the kahuna dude in his shack to take us tubing. It turns out that he was from Windsor (the first English person we had met on our travels). Then it got even better, as we were joined for our tubing by a girl from Cheltenham, who had developed a strong cockney accent (as seems to happen on holiday, when your national idiosyncrasies are magnified). We had a 40-minute tubing session, with Dani as our cameraman. We had a great (if slightly excruciatingly painful) time. At one point, we were all worried about Jazzman. Slightly recovered from his illness, he watched the bronzed half-nude guys playing American Football on the beach. He stared at one particularly goosed-up member of the gang and said:
"He is PERFECT!"
That evening, we weren't really up for a big night out, having slightly overdone it the night before. We watched Zoolander in the Fun Pub, and had a great supper at Ali Baba's (run by a mad Englishman). Here, Dani came out with another classic. When the conversation turned to football, Dani shouted with merriment in front of the entire restaurant:
"Spurs f*cking c*nts!...Oh my God. I just realised what that means!" Dani received a severe reprimand from us, and we left the establishment in shame, but laughing at his idiotic lack of understanding of his own language! We only went out on the town for a few hours. After a few more drinks, we headed down to the Irish pub, to ask the owner if we could watch the England Cameroon friendly the next morning at 7AM. We had a few more drinks, and then a few more. I got very upset when Ted beat me at pool and had my very own Teddy tantrum. At this point Yannis and his Mrs decided to have a big barney. Here's how it went:
Adrian: "Yannis, why can't you Jagger dance like that hunky piece of man meat Will"
Yannis: " HOW CAN I COMPETE WITH THAT! THE MAN SHAKES HIS BON BON BETTER THAN RICKY MARTIN!"
Adrian: "And I saw you checking out that Swedish broad!"
Yannis: "WHAT SWEDISH BROAD??! MAYBE IF YOU GAVE ME MORE FETA CHEESE...."
Adrian: "What do you mean by feta cheese? Do you mean sex?"
Yannis: "NO! I MEAN FETA CHEESE! I LOVE FETA CHEESE! SO SO MUCH IT HURTS!! AAAAAGHGHGGGGGH! MY BWAIN - IT'S SO INTENSE!"
And so things continued. Ted decided to try and patch things up between the "happy" couple by buying Yannis a Porky's to apologise for my fine bon bon shaking dancing. This did the trick, and having consumed the yummy pork treat (and with most of it still smeared around his mouth), the happy couple were all smiles again. Ted truly is the LURVE doctor.
We went to bed very drunk but very happy. Ah!
After the pub's sky system failed to operate at seven am, we decided it was time to leave Ios, and boarded the ferry to Naxos at about 1 o'clock. It was good news that Jazz and Dani were feeling slightly more upbeat, although the Jazzman still had lapses in confidence (collapsing on the ground and screaming "Why, god? Why?"...
