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          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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