On board S/Y Bushido, off Corfu
In a state of pre-orgasmic tension and anticipation, I sail into Nat Rothschild waters off the north-east tip of the island. Just across the narrow channel lies Albania, the land that God forgot for close to 75 years. Greeks are known to dislike Albanians, but young Taki is an exception. Albanians are fair with blue eyes and are totally committed to stealing, as well they should be after 75 years of great poverty and Godless communism. As the crow flies, or better yet as the dolphin swims, two miles separate one of the world’s richest and best-connected families from Europe’s poorest schmucks. The Rothschild peninsula and compound is the green light of West Egg to Albanian Gatsbys pining from afar. After a very long and very drunken night in Paxos I sailed into Corfu just in time to see the modern Talleyrand’s easyJet flight disappear over the horizon.
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