I'm staying in Sarti Inn, in a room right across from Dancing Bar George. You are probably wondering what a dancing bar is? Well, it's a place where Greeks and maybe tourists come to get drunk, yell, scream from 10pm to 4am. Yes. I'm sleep-deprived. Again. At least in London, it was worth it. I was in London. But now, I feel cheated.
This loud music, screaming, singing has been going on for three nights. Of course, this Inn doesn't have a concierge or a front desk. Doesn't have anyone working in it, except a few maids who come in the morning then mysteriously disappear an hour later, without cleaning anything.
Night No. 1. I couldn't fall asleep for a while. At least the music was good.
Night No. 2. I was so tired from Night no. 1 that I fell asleep instantly.
Night No. 3, aka last night. I drifted in and out of sleep, then at 3am, there was loud pulling, jerking of a flimsy iron gate across from the room, then someone, a man, yelled, yelled like someone was murdering him. Of course, I have no idea what he was saying. When I looked out of the window, there was a man, sprawled on the street, kissing the pavement, and another one on top of him. Neither one was moving.
There were several women in high heels just a few feet away. One wobbled on her 10 inch heels, looked at the two men on top of each other, and not in a sexual way, but in a I'm so drunk I can't move way, then she casually strolled back to join her smoking, laughing girlfriends right in front of the bar's entrance. I was sure, someone is going to call the police--the noise, the bizarre way two men were laying in the middle of a street. A street, where cars drive, not a sidewalk.
Nope. No police.
I concluded, there's no police in this town. Either that, or this is normal behavior for Greeks.
Criminals and lushes, rejoice!