Pink Palace Corfu

For 20 years I've been in this part of the Old Town of Corfu. Liston is the area where you find gourmet coffee, built by the French on the model of "Paris Rue de Rivoli. This is where everyone sits and talks. Drink coffee and watch people is the favorite pastime.

The cricket pitch is still as it was in front of the Liston and surrounded by parking on the far side, irregular bumps cricket balls drifts are not uncommon.

In the distance, next to the museum is the police station. The pain of guilt spring to mind when thinking of the police station and the events that took place on a Sunday morning, he always leaves me with apprehension in case I'm spotted. Yet, hand on heart, I can honestly say that I was guilty of anything.

I had been distributing leaflets at the terminal, ferry Old Port "encourage backpackers to stay at the Hotel Europa was so happy my boss" Act ". I earned close of 10,000.00 drx ($ 35) for 2 hours Work in the morning.

My colleagues in other schools are not so happy. Spiro who mostly praised for the 'Pink Palace' a popular hostel in the west of the island.

One Sunday morning, Spiro called police to inform then I was an American working without a work permit (This is not true that I'm British EEC) and that I was disturbing the tourists at the port. I never really found the extent of his lies, but it resulted in two Mercedes Benz and a black van arriving in the port range with agents looking for me. Maintaining Agis new what was happening and found me first, grabbed her and threw the leaflets left in a bin. "You are now a tourist waiting for a friend" told me just before the police found me. I am engaged in a style outside the police station "Starkey and Hutch" in front of 400 new visitors to the island.

The police station Liston is or was (I'm not sure coz I'm not back) was very dilapidated. I was brought before a plain clothed officer standing behind his desk. I am 22yr wide-eyed do much now, but had seen "Midnight Express" movie.

The officer looked confused, I could see in his eyes, but the problem was not me, I was sure of that. Cigarette smoking stains her roll-up ranged up to his forearm of the "V" in his fingers. It does not look good.

On the table, a triangular brass plate says "the immigration officer" I look around and feel uncomfortable, and unfortunately, laugh nervously when I place. This does not go down well. "Mess with me and I'll lock you up" he points to the cells.

In the far corner I see metal bars, locks heavy, a bed and a bucket. I had visions of "John Wayne" walk through the door. He still does not like the look on my face. Now I was in a state of anxiety and could not keep my countenance Strait.

He changed tactics. "You're an American!"
"No, I'm British"

"Where's your passporta"
"With my landlord" not true, but I did not get my passport now!

"Who is your landlorda" I give my name address of owners and references to others that I was British and things calmed down a bit. The games are still not over, however.

... ... ... "You are doing national servicea"
"No! National Service in Britain ended in the 1950s "

"We still have national service! You stand at attention at an office of agents like this" and the sergeant next to me, encouraged me to stand at attention. I then ordered to do other maneuvers square bashing, which I do as messy as I could. (I began to feel brave again and a bit stupid)

"You were upset tourists Davey! (They know my name now)
"No! I work as a citizen of the EEC to Agis at the Hotel Europa

"Only your passport to prove that!".