27 May 2009 – In which I cross back into Europe or, should I say, into the real world.

Rrrrring! It is 7 AM, and the receptionist – as instructed the other day – wakes me up. Two and a half hours and a breakfast later, I board the ferry to Kos. Turkish boat this time (Cos-Bodrum Express Lines, as spelt with red letters on its deck), more expensive than the Maria Star (for no apparent reason), and with more passengers. A lady hands out leaflets advertising short tours of the island of Kos. As the price is reasonable and as I have not seen the island yet – apart from the port area – I decide to give it a go.

And, there he is. Nested among bottles of olive oil, local wine and cinnamon syrup, incarnated in a beach towel, El Comandante carries on his guerilla warfare against capitalist pigs in the mountains of Greece. I ask the girl selling this cultural icon what she thinks of Che Guevara. “Good man” – she says, welcoming me to the real world.
I am hungry, and I choose not to choose the chosen restaurant of the tour (most of the tour operators, all over the world, be it Greece or Cambodia, benefit from directing their customers to a particular restaurant – which may, or may not be, a tourist trap). Che’s presence makes me wonder whether the local gyros, made from the flesh of capitalist pigs, slowly roasted and spiced up with thyme, is any good. Tip: If hungry in Greece – that is, hungry, not in search for local gastronomical delights – go for the gyros. It is inexpensive and filling.

Taverna
eucalyptus
Lake
Asklepion
Cats
Water
Back to the city
Hippocrates platane tree sycamore?
City walls
Back to the port cafeteria, communist commercial