Euros Ate My Dollars

Pardon my absence on the blog the last few days. I have been laboring under a deadline for work in an effort to try and fund this venture of ours. Someone’s got to be the brains behind this operation. Please reference this picture to understand why the brains = me.

Because one of the few requirements of being a “web editor” is access to the web, I quickly became familiar with Hania’s limited internet-access options. I was flabbergasted when I realized that my laptop could not detect even the faintest signal of a wireless network from our apartment. Driving down any random highway in America I can usually pick up one connection within range. It was not a promising revelation.

I had originally set out to find a cheaper option than paying the hourly rate at the techno-music-loving internet café we discovered on our first morning here, but found translating “wireless hot spot” into Greek to be a bit tricky. Even our English-speaking landlord was no help on this front as he confessed to having never touched a computer in his life.

So after exploring the few internet-access points in Hania, the techno-music-loving café, named “Triple WWW: Surf and Play,” reluctantly became our preferred place to visit, more by process of elimination than anything else: it’s cheapest, closest to home, and stays open 24 hours a day. We not-so-affectionately call this place Three Dub.

Our time at Three Dub has unfortunately exposed us to a seamy demographic of the Cretan populace: the internet-café-dwelling Greek dweebs. I might be embarrassed about how much time I spend at Three Dub, but this crowd never leaves. Ben and I, however, are the only people in the café using the internet for anything other than:

1. gaming
2. porn

An uncharacteristically empty day at Three Dub

Young and old men alike sit for hours, chain-smoking and playing “Warcraft,” which apparently involves shooting at moving objects on the screen and yelling “malaka!” into large headsets.* “Malaka,” our guidebook informs me, translates literally into “wanker.”

Ben, thinking he’d found kindred spirits, has attempted to talk to the Warcraft-gamers on several occasions, but his overtures are met only with grunts and annoyed stares.

Women-gamers also frequent Three Dub. Their games of choice are more along the lines of Mahjong and Snood; however, the fervor with which they play such games matches that of their male counterparts. And they probably smoke more cigarettes.

The second faction of Three-Dub-dwellers is far more disturbing. I hesitate to write about them, but I cannot escape them, and so, dear blog readers, neither can you. They are the porn-watchers.

You must be thinking, “surely, she’s kidding. No one would seriously watch porn on a public computer.” Oh, how I wish that were true. Dull-eyed Greek men unabashedly watch filthy videos, cigarette in one hand, frappe in the other, in full view of the entire café and all passers-by. As you unavoidably walk by their computer station, they’ll turn and look at you, mouths slightly open, expressionless and unapologetic, before shamelessly pivoting back to their computer screens.

In an effort to escape the icky, we’ve recently discovered an upscale seaside restaurant that offers “free” wifi. So, I’ve opted to come here on many occasions, order a drink and sit for hours, enjoying the view. I think it may be an abuse of their intent to sit here for eight hours at a time, and I get strange looks from the staff, but I’m willing to endure such glances for a porn-free environment.

* I did not know that what they were playing was called Warcraft. I may know some computer languages but I’m not that nerdy. Ben told me. He is that nerdy.

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