There were those who rented a room or,
in most cases, a bed, and slept on the beach because it simply was
beautiful. The people living on the beach divided in to two categories.
Those ones who were throwing their garbage around like hell and those
ones who cleaned up the beach every day or helped the man with the huge
army-boots (Georgi) to do this. The girl who is now my wife
belonged to the second category. Later, when the police started busting
people, they were right I think. Too many People living on the beach
didn't know how to deal with hippie-freedom in a foreign country and
didn't care about the local law. And nobody likes stealers and spongers.
Those ones who had a good reputation because they behaved and clothed OK
didn't have any problems, except when they were hanging around with the
wrong people. For example, my passport was always in Tasoulas kitchen.
No one busted me because I couldn't hand it over. I'd love to talk to
the huge policeman with the dark sunglasses about those old times, but I
didn't see him the last two years. Hope he is still alive.
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