one more day

Sleeping long fails again. The Estonian family practises over the bay yelling. Someone's glasses are lost.

I take the book and drive to Vathi bay. On the road I make a stop where the kayakers pack their things. Today it is possible to see them in Chora.
The bay is round like a lake. Hard sand and shallow water on one side, enormous amount of garbage on the other. Flies, roosters and an elderly couple who communicates over the village. Here too.
The book ends surprisingly fast. Satire about euro-correctness. 'Like nowadays medieval martial arts are practised in many places so will people in the future maybe practise Europe, it will be preserved as a niche production.'
Back to my room to get a new book. Venice is a fish. A sensual guide by Tiziano Scarpa. At times on heightened hostility towards tourists reading a book would be the best way to visit Venice. All places are familiar except plaster of chewing gum attached to a wall. Google also hasn't heard of this so perhaps it does not exist. Outside a tourist is pouring silly questions over every passer-by.
After dinner I meet the Swiss at the ferry ticket counter and go for a beer with them. Since I carry Zweig's world of yesterday they discover that we can also talk in German. Indeed.

lot of sand
back to mainland

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