Cheers to the Dead Salesmen

On about hour three of our five and a half hour bus ride to the coastal town of Lefkada, I started thinking about what I really know about sailboats: they're pretty, usually white, made out of wood, I think...okay not much. At least I've watched Failure to Launch enough to know to duck under the swingy arm of the sail and to watch out for the dolphins that bite. That felt like enough to go on. Once I started seeing the boats lined up in the harbor, I realized I was likely not headed for a Matthew McConaughey romance story but rather a timeless Martin Short classic, and began secretly hoping our captain had long hair and an eye patch. What did he say again? Guerilla? Gorilla? 🙈🙉🙊

When we finally reached our destination, we hopped off the bus at the city center. Well, at least there was a sign that called it that, but you wouldn't guess it considering it was only us, a bored taxi driver, and a few stray cats, now all in an awkward staring contest. While it seemed eerily quiet at first, we realized it was just because we got used to the constant blare of Athens and now there was only the wind, the birds, and my stomach gurgles. Typical. So, we set off to find our hotel, and then quickly to a neighborhood gyro restaurant where we parked drinking the local wine from plastic water bottles (thank you, Lowell!) until the sun went down and people started emerging from wherever they had been hiding. Unfortunately, English was not quite as popular here, but some-wine-deep Ryan was making a valiant effort, and each time he went inside the shop for something, I'd hear some laughter and he'd return with something at least close to what he went in for, so that was definitely a win, charades or otherwise! After we were stuffed to the brim, we went for a walk around town, which had become quite lively as it grew darker and made for a beautiful night before our real adventure began. In many senses, it was the calm before the storm.

The next morning we left to meet Ryan's coworkers at a cafe near the dock. It was a very cute place, with a giant leafy tree shading a big wooden deck. When we arrived, our group was sitting at a couple small light blue couches and a coffee table. The first people I saw were these beautiful dark-haired women who turned out to be Ryan's coworkers, Ana and Jovana (pronounced Yo-vana). They stood up to welcome us and let us know some of the group should be right behind us. I didn't look much past our little table at first, and the rest of the group arrived shortly after, who were friends of Ana and Jovana in some way or another and lovely in every way. As I started counting heads, I realized we were a few short. The captain was out at the boat already, but where were the last two? And that's when I spotted them. On a couch set back further behind the now less-appreciated massive tree were two guys who fit the intimidating stereotype I'd built up in my head about Serbians. Both dressed in black, the one on the left was sitting with his giant muscular arms crossed, his face tattoos even visible to my less-than-perfect eyes, and the other was the younger, leaner, probably meaner version of Jason Mamoa. I looked away, hoping expression hadn't been too obvious yet knowing that my thoughts are typically never just in my head. We sat there for a while, me pretending like they weren't talking to members of our crew directly, until it was time to go find the boat. Long story short, they both turned out to be wonderful guys, Djordje (pronounced something like George, but we called him Jo-le) (later known as the best boat chef ever) and Nikola (literally Aquaman), but in that first moment, they were pretty terrifying. Needless to say, I always felt safe when we went out in the island towns at night.

       

To kick-off our journey, it's good luck to say cheers to the dead sailors and keep them at bay. However, if you're Jovana and can't think of the world "sailor", you cheers the dead salesmen instead. So, with a cheers to the salesman and some direction from our fearless captain (whose name kept changing so I just called him Captain mostly) we were off!

Can you guess who Djordje and Nikola are?

Yup. Djordje, pirate edition

Now that I think about it, perhaps it was the dead sailors being upset we did it wrong that led to our suspicious string of hiccups. Regardless, stay tuned for the rest of the adventure aboard the Captain John! John...Ron...Gorilla...