May 24th
Vlicho to Lefkada Town
Lefkada Town is our last stop on the island and the biggest town we'll hit until Corfu so it's the perfect place for the weekend - and to catch tomorrow's Champions League Final.
We made it harbor-to-harbor in less than four hours but with no space to tie to the quay we anchored in the bay. Francis and I put the dinghy in the water and rowed over to the wall for a trip into town. His objective: scoping out bakeries. My objective: finding a place to watch the match.
The Friday night streets were crowded with more locals than visitors - bicycles and scooters weaving through the pedestrians a little too closely. We stuck to the high street saving the side streets for the next day. Francis' eyes lit up at the sight of so many bakeries - the morning bread run possibilities were limitless - but nothing was better than the near-toothless Greek man waving us into a sweets shop and with a huge grin offering us some ridiculously good honey almonds.
Francis' search went a lot better than mine. Bakeries everywhere. Potential match-viewing spots invisible.
May 25th
Lefkada Town
I'll never take the mid-day start times for Champions League matches back in the States for granted again. The 9:45pm local kickoff time was torture. I know it's not like there wasn't enough to do with our day but the wait seemed endless.
The first order of business though, was securing a spot on the town wall. The dinghy trip over wasn't bad but it's so much better to have walk-on / walk-off access to the shore - especially when there are drinks involved.
We had set up loose watch system to make sure we didn't miss any opportunities. I had the first shift - and believe it or not, I actually volunteered for it. Yes, on this boat, I'm the early riser. My alarm went off at 8am and I climbed up into the pilot house. There was some activity on the quay but nothing overly promising. Francis was up next. There was a charter that looked like it was readying the deck to move out but as soon as one of the guys emerged with a backpack we knew that was the end of that. And then at the end of the row, there was movement on a Dutch boat that got all of our attention. (Cindy, keep your comments to yourself). After watching them for a few minutes there was no doubt they were getting ready to leave so we started prepping the boat to move in. A little before 11am the Dutch lifted their anchor and so did we.
Saturday in Lefkada Town is even more busy than Friday night. By the time we made it in, the cafes and tavernas were jammed and the high street was packed. We took that as our cue to explore the tiny and colorful side streets - each alley completely different from the next. Thankfully there was only one with a display of dead, dried, named fish.
The town was hit hard by the 1948 earthquake and many of the restored buildings have upper levels constructed of tin in an effort to earthquake-proof them - the combination resulting in an interesting mix of solid looking foundations and purposely flimsy higher stories. And then there's the clock tower that resembles the Tin Man.
Our wandering wasn't completely aimless. I was still on the lookout for a good spot to watch the match. A google search for Lefkada football bars was fruitless so was the hunt for a German bar or restaurant. Most of the places we passed had only small 4x3 TVs. We did come across a few Germans but none of them had figured out a good place to watch either. Then there was this little guy... German, yes. Out of diapers, no. But that didn't stop him from cruising around on his pedal-less bike.
With the town shutting down for the siesta, the search was put on hold and we headed over to the private marina to assess the shower situation. Since the marina is grouped into a category with the most expensive in Europe we weren't liking our chances but to our surprise, 50 cents buys you a 10 minute hot shower. Um... yes, please.
With the siesta still in high gear and five hours (five hours!) until kickoff, it was nap time. Then it was dinner time. And then we still had more than two hours until kickoff.
My powers of persuasion had improved a little since the Greek league match in Argostoli - or maybe it's just that the Champions League Final has more appeal than a 4th Division battle for promotion. Erika had given in and would be joining me. Francis... not so much but at least it was a start.
We were enjoying some Alphas on the back deck when two couples decked out in Dortmund colors (scarves, flags, t-shirts) walked by. I called them over, told them we were supporting Dortmund (mostly because they're not Bayern but also because if a team can make Steve a soccer convert, how can I not support them?) and asked if they had found a good place to watch the match. Unfortunately, they were in the same spot as us: searching all day and nothing but they were going to keep looking and come back to let us know what they came up with.
Now an hour before kick, Erika and I were walking off the boat when the Dortmund group returned. They found a place with a TV set up outside. "Not a proper football pub" but at least it was something. And with that, we were off.
Right, so "not a proper football pub" is a bit of an understatement. I feel confident in saying it was the most un-soccer bar ever. The woman at the table next to us sat facing away from the TV. While doing her nails. And talking on her cell phone. Actually, "pub" isn't really accurate either. Within seconds of the game ending the techno was blaring and giant multi-colored strobe lights blinded people as they walked by. And then there were the drinks... tables packed with giant iced-coffee concoctions outnumbered those with beer by at least five to one.
But still, we considered ourselves lucky. We were with some full-on Dortmund supporters. Who drink beer.
With kickoff minutes away, talk-time was limited but there was enough to find out that one of the guys did his gap year in the U.S. Where? Doing what? If he gave me 1,000 guesses I would not have come up with: "Being a cowboy. In Wyoming".
So yeah, watching the Champions League Final outside a crazy Greek club with a guy from Dortmund who spent a year being a cowboy in Wyoming. Exactly how I had it drawn up.
When I asked if they all actually lived in Dortmund one of the guys replied, "Do you know where Dusseldorf is?" Ah, Dusseldorf...
Turns out they're from Mulheim, a bit north of Dusseldorf and about 30 miles out of Dortmund. They were a bit surprised when I told them that my layover on the way to Greece was in Dusseldorf and that I spent a day and night in the city but it gained me instant acceptance into our tiny BVB supporters group. Well, that and the fact that I actually knew who Robert Lewandowski is.
Kickoff brought an end to the small talk. I know what I'm like when the Yankees are in the World Series or Giants are in the Super Bowl and my stress level hardly even registers compared to these guys.
Dortmund had the better of the play early but just couldn't put one away. With every missed opportunity or big save, the black and gold scarf was pulled tighter. I was somewhat concerned our new friend would accidentally strangle himself or at the very least end up unconscious. Each time Bayern won a corner the guy practically crawled under the table. And then there was the face save. Holy Weidenfeller.
Disaster struck in the 60th minute when Mandzukic put Bayern up 1-0. Minutes later, the euphoria of Ilkay Gundogan's penalty to even the score was quickly replaced by anger when Dante wasn't shown a second yellow / red. But when Thomas Muller's shot was cleared off the line by Subotic we had no doubt it was Dortmund's night. Then it wasn't. Arjen Robben left our tablemates stunned and heartbroken. And with that, BVB Lefkada said our goodbyes.
So, remember the whole watching-the-Champions-League-Final-in-a-crazy-Greek-club-with-a-guy-from-Dortmund-who-spent-a-year-being-a-cowboy-in-Wyoming thing? Well, turns out that may not actually be the most bizarre combination of the night.
We quickly abandoned the most un-soccer bar ever and met Francis down the street to catch a band we had seen promoted around town. What kind of band? Well, how about a Balkan Ska/Reggae Hot Jazz Swing band. And what does a Balkan Ska/Reggae Hot Jazz Swing band play? The obligatory Bob Marley of course and then some pretty out there versions of Ring of Fire and Seven Nation Army.
Somehow it seemed the perfect ending for the night.
A Little Bit of Dortmund in Lefkada Town
Saturday, May 25, 2013
Lefkáda, Ionian Islands, Greece
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