Beach Bums #39

On landing in Heraklion we turned left towards Malia, then a beautiful deserted beach with only a shack like bar-restaurant, juke box, dirt cheap food and drink, hosted by Kosta the ebullient owner.
We staked out our encampment 100 yards up the beach, dug out a hollow with a makeshift canvas awning to afford protection against the blazing sun.
We spent a week there swimming in the perfect turquoise sea, hanging around the juke box boogying to bouzouki, drinking retsina and Fix the improbably named local beer. Each night was strictly sirtaki night down at the Malia Golden Fleece.