Mykonos… where the party began
After a few days of shopping, scones and tea and a night on the town with the UBS global graduates in London, I headed to Mykonos for commencement of the tour via Athens where I opened the Moussaka account.
Hotel Rochari in Mykonos was awesome and set an impossibly high standard for all accommodation to follow. Lazing by the pool sipping Mary’s expertly mixed margaritas just hit the spot. Not only were the drinks great, but the food was very reasonably priced and we were kept up to date with CNN in our rooms.
Initially the whitest man on the continent, after a single day of radiation, I was a freshly cooked lobster. Fortunately, the generous application of aloe vera and moisturiser ensured the transition to golden brown. It’s science.
Now, on to the partying… Our little day trip to Paradise Beach was one of the best afternoons on record – sun, sand and a drinking culture that defies both daylight and sleep. The festivities commenced at an unprecedented hour and people were dancing on tables in no time. A highlight, or lowlight depending on your perspective, was the Elephant Man. I think an explanation is unnecessary. Meanwhile, the vodka flowed freely and the great social lubricant was once again wreaking havoc – and it was only 5pm.
We visited most of the hot spots that Mykonos had to offer, with a special mention going to Skandinvian Bar – which is where the American love affair began. That’s right, we met some hot intelligent Americans. One might almost think it is an oxymoron. Shame that they weren’t tall. But 2 out of 3 isn’t bad.
The other clubs were really packed and the queues and cover charges were horrendous. Knowing the secret passcode, “We buy bottles”, however, we managed to make our way to the VIP section. An expensive habit that will probably not be repeated any time soon.
As an aside, Mykonos was a haven for nicotine addicts. As soon as we got off the ferry, there were hawkers attempting to stuff Camel down our throats and were giving away free cigarette carry cases. This also took place at the entrance of all the big clubs. Free lung cancer for everyone. It was as if the Greek government were in dire need of cash and decided to allow Camel to sponsor one of their islands.
After a few days of shopping, scones and tea and a night on the town with the UBS global graduates in London, I headed to Mykonos for commencement of the tour via Athens where I opened the Moussaka account.
Hotel Rochari in Mykonos was awesome and set an impossibly high standard for all accommodation to follow. Lazing by the pool sipping Mary’s expertly mixed margaritas just hit the spot. Not only were the drinks great, but the food was very reasonably priced and we were kept up to date with CNN in our rooms.
Initially the whitest man on the continent, after a single day of radiation, I was a freshly cooked lobster. Fortunately, the generous application of aloe vera and moisturiser ensured the transition to golden brown. It’s science.
Now, on to the partying… Our little day trip to Paradise Beach was one of the best afternoons on record – sun, sand and a drinking culture that defies both daylight and sleep. The festivities commenced at an unprecedented hour and people were dancing on tables in no time. A highlight, or lowlight depending on your perspective, was the Elephant Man. I think an explanation is unnecessary. Meanwhile, the vodka flowed freely and the great social lubricant was once again wreaking havoc – and it was only 5pm.
We visited most of the hot spots that Mykonos had to offer, with a special mention going to Skandinvian Bar – which is where the American love affair began. That’s right, we met some hot intelligent Americans. One might almost think it is an oxymoron. Shame that they weren’t tall. But 2 out of 3 isn’t bad.
The other clubs were really packed and the queues and cover charges were horrendous. Knowing the secret passcode, “We buy bottles”, however, we managed to make our way to the VIP section. An expensive habit that will probably not be repeated any time soon.
As an aside, Mykonos was a haven for nicotine addicts. As soon as we got off the ferry, there were hawkers attempting to stuff Camel down our throats and were giving away free cigarette carry cases. This also took place at the entrance of all the big clubs. Free lung cancer for everyone. It was as if the Greek government were in dire need of cash and decided to allow Camel to sponsor one of their islands.
posted by Aaron McGovern at 8:39 PM
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