Diesel, faeces, fish bone, fruit, leftovers, plastic polluted water. The bay is paradise but at a high cost. No rain since May, forest fires out of control in the east, and a rise in Covid cases. Greece is a very old country, where no water, island or mountain remains unchartered or untouched. And it’s a country so financially dependent on tourism that it’s allowed to wreak havoc at any cost.
Anything can be profited.
Because how else do you make a profit?
The Romani basket maker who sits in the shade of a stranded boat, weaves plenty but sells little, if any. The waitress from Athens, who came out to the islands for the summer season, accepts the looks, touches and “innocent jokes” from tourists of different languages and incomes. The local islander serve, serve and serve their food, supplies, skills, and nature, in order to make a bit of money to see them through the winter. The kids learn English and Italian by avoiding school, and working instead.
This is still paradise. There is just no innocence about it.
That is the cost.