Crete - Greek Aqua disco. Edge hosts a pool side Bonanza. Bamboozled Willie has to phone California to find his way back to his room.
Day off. Crete, the morning after. Last night got completely out of hand, and I'm just now trying to piece together the various shreds of memory I have left. We arrived in Crete and found ourselves staying in what is basically paradise - a large coastal resort hotel with chalets by the clearest blue sea you ever saw, with beaches, palm trees, hills, little rocky paths everywhere, the whole bit. Clearly, its going to be a great few days here. Today was also the birthday of Bess from Principle Management, so later in the evening, The Edge invited us all over to his place to celebrate, because he was so amused to find that his chalet/room had not one, but two swimming pools. It had an outdoor pool and, yes, a fair sized indoor pool and whole spa set up, making it, he said, the most over-the-top accommodation of his entire career.
Now, I don't know whether it was the beauty of the place, or the realisation that the end of this leg of the tour is so close, or some psychological reaction to the massive contrast between here and Bosnia, or maybe it was just the moonlight and the moment with a birthday thrown in, but something in us ignited and we declared 'party time' of the highest order. The bar was raided, the tunes were cranked up and into the pool(s) everyone went in various states of dress and undress. The Edge found himself hosting Crete's very first Aqua-Disco and we made the most of it. In the pool, singing, yelling, dancing. We did Go West, we did YMCA and birthday girl Bess performed the whole of 'Born Slippy' on the side of the pool. Everyone piled in. Madness. Dancing on the treadmill. Ice-cube fights in the steam room. Building a make-shift bar on the edge of the pool. Making candle sculptures to float in the water. Aching from hours of water aerobics, and laughing, laughing, laughing. Couldn't find the way back to my room. After an hour wandering about little paths, peering at chalet numbers, hopping fences and climbing over rocks I knew I was utterly, hopelessly lost. Nice night for it, mind. Still had the mobile phone, so called a friend in California who had a tour itinerary, so he could give me the hotel reception number here. I called reception and they sent out a little Greek porter to find me and lead me to my room. I've no idea how anyone else got home.