No Bed of Roses

THE JOURNEY BEGINS

(Summer 1989)

 

Volker and I arrived on the island of Lefkada in Greece around noon – the vacation could begin!

 

The day before, Volker had asked me if I wanted to join him on this trip. I had no money, but he didn’t care – and so here we were.

We didn’t know how long this vacation would last. We only knew that it would be over as soon as Volker’s money was nearly gone, and we’d have to return home.

Our accommodation had to be, of course, the cheapest option: camping somewhere on the beach where no one would ask us for money. Whether we’d find such a place—both free and comfortable—was uncertain.

 

The map we had with us led us to Vagelis Beach – a beach about four kilometers long, with only one tavern and another building still under construction.

After talking to the owner of the tavern, Vagelis Yanalautus, he allowed us to camp there free of charge – as long as we stayed on the right-hand side of the tavern, out of sight of the sea. Perfect!

 

We set up the tent in a shaded spot under the trees – with a first-class view of the sea, of course.

Over the next few days, we did the usual things: enjoying the beach and the sea, exploring the island, getting to know people, and, above all, relaxing.

A week passed, and I realized that I really liked this place – so much so that I was sure I would stay.

 

Back in Germany, my girlfriend had left me, and two pending court cases for dealing hashish were waiting for me. Any judge would gladly lock me up for a while. There was nothing pulling me back to Germany. Let’s put it this way: I had nothing to lose—except my freedom.

 

I told Volker about my decision, but he didn’t take me seriously. I guess he thought I was crazy. No money, no plan – nothing.

Another ten days passed, and we had a great time on Lefkada.

 

Then Volker said we would leave in two days because his money was running low. I made it clear to him that I was staying, but he still didn’t believe me.

The day before his departure, I told him again: I would stay and surely find a way to make money. Honestly, the thought of going back and ending up in prison scared me more than living without a plan on Lefkada.

 

I called my mother and told her everything. I said, “I like it here. Volker will move into my apartment. I need money, and I don’t know what I will do!”

She simply asked if I was sure and wished me good luck. She knew she couldn’t change my mind.

 

Volker also wished me luck and all the best. I wished him a great time in my apartment. We said our goodbyes – and off he drove.

There I was. I didn’t know what lay ahead, but I felt free. I had a tent, an air mattress, some clothes, a beautiful beach, a few Greek friends who also lived on the beach – and, best of all, freedom.

 

I rarely used the tent. Most of the time, I slept under the open sky on the beach.

Two days after Volker’s departure, Vagelis asked me if I wanted to help out until my money arrived. That’s how I got my first job abroad. I worked only for food and drinks – no money – but I loved it.

 

When the money from my mother finally arrived, Vagelis asked if I wanted to continue working – I agreed.

During my working hours, I sold jewelry made by the locals living on the beach. The money from these sales funded our beach parties, which we threw every night. Some parties included tourists, others were just for us – the beach boys and girls, the quasi-residents of Vagelis Beach.

My daily routine was simple: I woke up with the sunrise, went for a swim, and then headed to work. Vagelis wouldn’t let me start working without having a proper breakfast first – so I always had one.

Between busy hours, I hung out at the beach with tourists or explored the island on a motorbike that Vagelis had arranged.

In the evenings, we gathered drinks and food for our parties at the beach.

 

I lived like this for three months until my mother called me with bad news. The police had come to her house with a warrant for my arrest.

I was surprised they hadn’t realized I was no longer in Germany. What did they still want from me? I was a changed man!

My mother advised me to call my lawyer in Germany – which I did.

The lawyer told me that I could return and spend two to three years in prison or stay away from Germany for the next seven years. The choice was easy – I stayed on Lefkada.

He also warned me that the police might soon figure out where I was since I regularly called my mother. “Shit, what now?” was all I could think at that moment.

I really liked Lefkada – especially Vagelis, his family, and all the locals I had met.

 

Vagelis even asked if I wanted to help him during the winter to finish building his hotel and work there the next season.

It was clear – I had to move on. I told Vagelis that I had to leave. He asked why, and I told him the truth. Even after I told him about my "hashy-hashy" business, he still wanted me to stay and said that if the police came looking for me, he would just tell them I had already left.

I really loved them all. I felt like part of the family and didn’t want to get them into trouble. It was hard – really hard – but I had to say goodbye.

 

A guy I knew from Lefkas had rooms for rent and a car rental business. When I told him my story, he gave me a room and a car for free.

I stayed in Lefkas for a while, always looking over my shoulder, not knowing what to do next.

Then I met Uwe, a German sailor with a boat in the quay. He lived on the mainland, just off Lefkada Island.

After we got to know each other, he offered me a job doing renovation work on his boat.

 

The job with Uwe gave me t

ime to clear my head, and our conversations gave me the right ideas – I had to move further east.

I decided to go to Turkey.

I bought a bus ticket to Thessaloniki and, from there, another to Alexandroupolis, near the Turkish border.

On a Friday morning, I arrived in Alexandroupoli, ready to cross the border into Turkey. But there was a problem – the border was closed due to the elections in Greece.

My money was running out faster than expected, and I had to wait until Monday to cross the border.

 

I was lucky – I found a cheap room right across from the train station.

After a few days in Alexandroupoli, I felt the urge to move on. On Monday evening, I arrived in Istanbul – with just enough money for a night at the Youth Hostel near the Red Mosque. The next morning, I set out to find a bank to get money transferred from my mother.

 

My journey had only just begun!

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