My Zante Days
Good afternoon, all. I’m stuck in some horrendous Dubai traffic on Hessa Street (I know my locals feel me), and well, the taxi man is playing some prayer music that I’m not really feeling but don’t dare tell him to change because it was literally the only taxi that came for me in half an hour. I was sweating like a beast out there - it is still roasting here!!! So, to pass the time, I’ve decided to continue my blog, and I always said I’d write about my Zante days…
So my Zante days, if I’m honest, were probably the wildest of my life (and those who know me - know that is a big statement). I have many individual stories of these times, but my mum, dad, or boyfriend never need to read. So, let me start off by saying how it came about. I knew I never wanted to go to uni but had never known what I mainly wanted to do. There were two things I knew I loved. The sun and a night out. When I went out on holiday with the girls I realised that everyone working there was English and that this could be great for summer (she says with 4 summers under her belt) it’s addictive, what can I say.
One thing to be said for these places is though you actually work hard, it’s a work-hard-play mentality. The Greeks work all summer, so they get the winter off and expect the same from you. I was lucky enough to find a job in a hotel bar (like one of the only 4* stars in Zante. Although it definitely wasn’t). Sorry, Ionis! Anyway, I had a Greek woman who owned the place, and she wanted to put me on like 30 euros for an 8-hour shift (that was always more like 9). They never let you go the time you are supposed to. Greek time for you. This was standard back then, but I had the passion and suggested taking 10 per cent of my bar takings. She agreed, and I earned quite a lot that first year, but my tactic had to be the same every time. Get a big group of guys to come to the bar, pretend I fancied one of them and that they had a chance and told them I’d go out with them after work. I’m not going to lie. It became exhausting, and the second year I just told my boss to pay me 40 euros per shift and then at least I could just be myself and not have to flirt my ass off!!! I worked 6–2 AM. Every day, but I got Saturdays off, and I had a better gig than most people. My mate Brad had the proper graveyard shift of 2–10 AM!
Anyway, somehow, I saved money out there. I lived in the tiniest room in my first year (even smaller than my Covid Dubai room). I had a single bed, and my room was on top of a nightclub. It was by the beach and had a massive rooftop. Still, I could not fall asleep before 6/7 AM because of the music downstairs, so it was either stay out till that late or get that drunk beforehand that I could sleep through it. I also shared the room with my friend - she had a joining room, and we shared a bathroom, but it was in my room. Of course, we had no air con, and it sometimes was so unbearably hot, so I would sleep next to naked, and if she took someone back and they used the toilet, they could see me laying there naked… I’m sure both parties were traumatised, but it wasn’t an ideal situation. We also had a neighbour, Lotion, known for not drinking water and just partying each minute. He would come in at 3 AM, put his CD player on repeat and fall asleep - to this day, I cannot listen to ‘You’re out of touch’. He would never lock his room, so I’d go in and switch it off. One day, I was desperate for water and knew his door was unlocked, so I went to pinch some, and of course, his fridge had only Heineken in it!
My friends came and stayed, and they didn’t realise what they were coming into. One friend slept on the balcony most nights on a lilo and got eaten by mosquitos, another I remember laying with their head in my fridge, and one friend was out on the pull every night and would basically go home with anyone with air conditioning. But that’s Zante for you. (I never let my mum come see me there after she came to see me in Malia). I did my first Greek summer in Malia when I was 19, and I thought my room was ready for Mum’s arrival - she took one step in and went straight to book herself a hotel. I spiked her drink a few nights with the odd shot of Baileys (she doesn’t drink), and you should have seen my mum. She got everyone on the dance floor for all of 10 minutes and then said her head was going all funny (welcome to my world). She really doesn’t need booze, though, as you’d think she’s drunk anyway, so apologies, Mum, for spiking you!
The second year, I decided to move downstairs as there was a cooler room, but the cockroaches were always there, and I preferred that over being on top of a speaker. In the third year, I thought I’d live in free accommodation at the hotel, but it was basically in a sauna on the roof, and I couldn’t stand up. (There was always a catch somewhere). But it was all fun and games. As you can imagine, I had the best of times, made so many amazing friends and grew an obsession with blue wkd!! My god, I put on so much weight). I joined the gym in Zante and was known as the girl who ran. Nobody else did, but that still couldn’t get me on the better side of Red Castle chicken nuggets… I tried, though. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed as much as these summers, but they are not sustainable, and as soon as you get too old and you’re doing it - fair play, but for me, it has a sell-by date. (Sorry, Badger and Lotion) keep living the dream, though.
xBx
P.S. I ban all photos of this era! 😆