After a lot of long distance phone calls and reassurance from my family, I decided it was time to leave. But there was no way I was leaving without being paid for at least one month of this Greek nightmare. So I booked my flights for the end of my first month, I had two weeks left to pass and I did my best to act casual.
But the excitement was too much. The Greek brothers watched me suspiciously.
It became clear I was going to need to appear a little more miserable. I started an extensive exercise regime so that I would be too exhausted to smile. I tried exploring the island on long, long, long runs. I spent most of these runs being chased by goats.
After one particularly alarming near-death experience. I asked them what I should do when the goats attacked. It was the general consensus that I should lie down on the ground. I imagined the result of such a ridiculous suggestion and opted to avoid lying down in the path of charging goats.
To pass the time I tried socialising. After someone produced an old coke bottle filled with a clear liquor called Raki, I decided it was best not to drink anything I was offered. This resulted in me being the only sober one at multiple parties and therefore being the only one concerned for general health and safety.
It also resulted in me being the only one even mildly alarmed by some of the bizarre things that happened at these parties.
To be fair I got myself into my own fair share of bizarre situations. I spent a good five minutes hanging onto our trellis for dear life after deciding it was the perfect place to do pull-ups. I completely forgot the fact that I had never managed to do one before and decided the added death-drop would push me to be able to achieve one.
Finally, after the slowest and strangest two weeks of my life, it was time to leave. My bags were packed and all I had to do was walk the two miles to the airport, against the wind, in the blazing heat of midday. I got about four hundred meters before I started praying.
And surprisingly my prayers were answered. Albeit, my prayers weren't very specific and the non-english speaking Albanian man who swooped me up into his dodgy red van while he kept shouting "Taxi, Taxi," was a little alarming. But when faced with heat stroke or abduction I now know that I will ask no questions and take abduction any day. It's important to know these things about yourself.
So that was that. The Albanian man, thankfully, dropped me at the airport in one semi-sane-piece. All I had to do was board my plane and I was free. There I was sitting in the window seat of the same rust bucket I flew in on, when I turned to see who sat down beside me. It was my Greek suitor from the bar who had wanted to raise goats behind the airport with me.