Greece Adventure Travel Job: Working at the Pink Palace

Turner Greece

“Wow. That is a pretty sweet jacuzzi you guys have. It is massive.”

“Yeah I try not to go in it too often. We call it the Sperm-cuzzi. I have been pretty good this year though and have only banged 5 girls in there so far.”

This is the Pink Palace. A debaucherous – albeit a bit fading – sex-driven, party institution on Corfu Island in Greece. It has every adventure travel job you can think of, yet they all share the same duty: sex.  As the name suggests, it is pink. The buildings, the garbage bins, the staff clothes – even the mini garbage pick up truck. Everything – pink. Known for its weekly pink toga parties and brazen promotion of being a non-stop party sex-cation desination, the Pink Palace has been a draw for gap years and study abroad students – who tell their parents they are taking in some “Greek history” and slow, easy island living for relaxation purposes from all their rigorous liberal arts college study abroad courses they just completed – for years. Although it is visited predominately by Italians, Australians, Canadians and Americans, there is the occasional other random Euro or cougar preying on some young, fresh meat, who also stops by for a visit (you naughty Norwegian ladies). Activities range from a quad-bike island tour, sea kayaking, booze cruise (aka alcohol-nudity marathon) with clothes-less cliff jumping and body shots, pink toga party and non-stop happy hours and liver elimination program. They even feed you two free meals a day in a cheesy Greek cafeteria so the few remaining brain cells you have left don’t have to fret over what to eat. Needless to say – I thought it seemed like a decent place to find my next adventure travel job.

Although maybe lacking long-term potential in the career department, there seemed to be one thing that generally drew staff in and kept them working like indentured servants in the fields: a steady supply of young, open-minded (from intoxication) vacationers weekly. Whether you are receptionist, captain of the booze cruise or the breakfast egg making guy – everyone excludes a sort of pleasant, yet exhausted attitude from the 12 hour work day, endless buffet of 1 euro staff cocktails, and new sex partners whose names they cant remember daily. Happy enough with enough endorphins flowing to keep the staff motivated to work like hamsters on a wheel, but tired enough with just enough incentives to not fight for better working conditions, makes the perfect employee payment plan (esp. if you are the employer). The only risk is a slow down of incoming guests (less guests=less sexy time=less endorphins=disgruntled sex plebes=the fall of Rome Greece).

In general, most of the staff decide to apply to become staff after having visited the Pink Palace. Realizing the benefits of living in a beautiful, exotic setting on a Greek Island coupled with a conga line of co-eds, makes the decision surprisingly pretty straight forward for a lot of people. In fact, I think this is the true Mediterranean diet and the secret to such health adonis like Greeks. There is an array of jobs to choose from – bartending, bus boy, reception etc., but the best job is the activities coordinator, as they get to spend their days kayaking, booze cruising, ATVing, drinking and cohorting with the fresh packs of soon to be sexified guests. Me? I was shooting to just get my foot in the door and work my way up the ranks in the pursuits of payless pleasure and fun as a mere bus boy, as it was already halfway through the season and I am well passed my abusive alcoholic prime (28 in well-adjusted, productive member of society adult years is like 76 in irresponsible, dipshit years).

So in the end, I didn’t get the job. This year was a slow year and the staff was already overcapacity and under-sexed (seasonally speaking of course) as is. But it is okay. My 5 days at the Pink Palace brought about more profound and far-reaching realizations than I could have ever dreamed of. Life isn’t all about sex, drugs, and rock’n’roll. You can’t party forever and live like a drunk college retard in endless sexually-charged bliss without consequences your whole life. At some point, you hit a wall and start to feel like old balls and see things differently than you did before especially after too many nights of drinking induced comas. A time where you gotta grow up, man up and take responsibility. And as you do you will get a bit wiser, you learn to appreciate, and frankly long for, all the things that you once shuttered to think you could ever possibly desire. Like a long-term committed, loveless relationship based on mutual respect and sensual conversations by candle light about grocery lists and Saturday errands with someone whose name you actually remember in the morning; a crippling mortgage with only 7.3% adjustable interest; a divorce that rapes your saving like a Viking horde running through a village of virgins; and most importantly – working like a rat in a cubicle hoping your job doesn’t get outsourced to a person in a country whose name you can’t pronounce to a person who will work twice as hard for 1/100 of the price while you kiss your boss’s ass and hope your healthcare covers your adult onset spina bifida from lurching over your computer screen for typing TPS reports all day. Get ready adult world. I am ready to become a fully functioning member of society.

**Please note there were a lot more photos (lot) – including but not limited to nude body shots, crazy booze cruise action and a girl doing body shots off a man’s [explicit], but my site is family friendly (a fucked up family perhaps but still). Additionally, I am lazy, computertarded and have a soul (somewhat)…so I will just leave it up for your imagination (you sick basterd). You can visit the if you want to see more I think they maybe more morally loose than myself.