Day 8

I awoke to find a new arrival moored next to me. A chartered Bavaria with a Polish crew. They insisted I have a traditional Polish breakfast with them and welcomed me aboard their yacht. One black coffee and several shots of Metaxa later (what is Polish about that?), I managed to escape their hospitality and spent the day playing tourist in Zakinthos.
The all-male Polish crew next door was a cheerful collection of professionals. Eight in total, two proudly boasted that they worked for the biggest brown coal power station in Europe, another was a construction tycoon and the youngest at 22 touted the success of his families business in disposable plastics. I don’t remember the rest. They regularly went cruising together and had been sailing around the Peloponnese clockwise from Athens.
Upon returning to Eileen, I was invited yet again for a traditional Polish lunch. Unable to refuse the hospitality I nursed a dizzy head that night. By morning they were gone.