|
In August, Ithaca never sleeps. It's fun at fever pitch. It's big, it's bold. Ithaca in August is nothing compared to Mykonos, but for a sleepy island to awaken to the thunder of peak tourist season, can make even the strong shudder with some trepidation. To get the most out of August, the workers keep their heads down and switch to automatic. There is no other way. By the middle of the month, the beaches are tight with half naked bodies strewn along the pebbled beaches, all vying for the attention of the Ionian sun. Golden tans and golden chains, summer excesses and love affairs, singing and dancing, swimming and romancing, drink up my friends, tomorrow is just minutes away. The fervour of Summer spreads like wild fire from one corner of the island to the other, so much to do with so little time, and thus, Ithaca gets just a little crazy this month. Bars throb late into the night, writhing with excited bodies, broken hearts weep around the early morning streets and wounded egos take refuge on the piers, where the masts tinkling in the sea breeze, mask their teary groans. Raised voices and raised glasses reverberate without end, the volume of Ithaca is heightened 100 fold. Early mornings and late nights, day after day and night after night, and by the sheer volume of souvlaki coming off the Grill, people have indulged themselves to excess again for another annual holiday. By the end of August, many tourists return home to join AA, sleep and recuperate, and the lines of exhaustion on the faces of the working community of Ithaki, are securely engraved into their brows. There's talk of winter, and how nice it will be to have the island back to themselves again, but thoughts such as these are only momentary, as they would surely undermine the strength to proceed into September.
|
