Above us only sky
Why do airports seem to bring out the worst in people? I made a school boy error, by putting my aftershave in the hand luggage. My bag was put to one side on the machine to be checked. I had no idea that I'd made the mistake, but I was about to find out. I was waiting patiently for my bag to be checked, when a very large bearded, overly zealous security official made me move about 3 centre meters, over some sort of line; think Metallica fan/biker...vroooooooooom! After he'd got me to move the minuscule amount that appeased him; I began to think about what a sterling job he'd done; and I was wondering if he was going to finish work that evening, safe in the knowledge that he'd done his job to best of his abilities, not counting good old fashioned customer service...obviously; maybe sitting off in wetherspoons telling his mates about his ace day? I'm sure he had lots of friends, I'm sure of it. Just as I was winding myself up about people of this stamp; I was immediately confronted by an Asian couple; who had failed to realise that their bag was being thwarted because it needed to be searched; and that it was in a que, and ques in their very essence, have fundamentals...such as an order; usually chronological. They were sure that waving their boarding passes frantically in the security ladies face was going to get them seen quicker. There were sure of it. Just as I was awaiting a light house in the proverbial fog, to redeem humanity for me, I struck a concealed iceberg of cunt-ness. There was a vile, freckled, narcissistic, ginger Irish woman, with an exhausted look on her face sighing very deliberately...about as deliberate as one could sigh; even more deliberate than the sighs that I was throwing out, in my head, at the beardo loon, '"I've got a plane to catch!" she said.......
Then I boarded the plane, and as usual, I was a little nervous, as I am scared of flying. You know when you arrive at the airport, and you see a gang of tit heads at the bar? You think 'I hope they're not getting on my plane' - well, they did, and they sat right in front of me. The "G-star raw" T shirts are an instant indicator of moronary. If you wear one of these, chances are, you're a moron; or possibly a middle aged man trying hopelessly to to appear fashionable...in which case, you're also a moron. They were chatting up a few young damsels, one of which was wearing a shockingly terrible wig; which was so bang on, it was funny. The lads were also aware of her tragic hair-cumstance; and were silently communicating via a series of raised eyebrows and smirks. I knew what they were thinking. They were total dick heads. Loud, football chanting, obnoxious little shits, with little spatial awareness- they were ignoring the seatbelt light, sitting four on a three row. At this point, we were well into the flight, and I was hardly even aware that I was in air- the fear was replaced by G-star raw rage; thanks to a gaggle of yorkshire nitwits (one had a Leeds United tattoo). I've always wanted to go abroad, on a 'lads' holiday, but the company I have kept over the years has been a little skeletal to say the least, and has dictated that such embarkings' have been restricted. If, I ever did though, I'm sure I'd be liable to slap someone in my party for any of that sort of behaviour. I had exhausted all avenues of thought, pertaining to my moronic fellow travellers. I drifted off into a day dream, only to be snapped out of it by a blue bottle, buzzing energetically around the cabin; 'how lucky is he?' I said to myself. 'Was he a Greek fly? Was he Liverpudlian? Perhaps he was from elsewhere? Was he missing his brothers back home, to busy to even send a post card back?' Personifying and flying. That's how it's done.
The plane landed, and we went our separate ways from the fly, and the fuckwits. We made our way to the resort of Kefalos. I won't bore you with the details of it. It's a holiday resort at the end of the day. They're a pretty much a standard formula where ever you go. Junk for sale, half full with tourists, nice beaches, and loads of cars and quads to rent, pretty standard really. Ants galore! The room we checked into was every bit of a prison cell that I imagined it to be- two tiny windows and a door. Maritsa studios, ran by a lady called Maritsa. We had about 10 feral cats outside who were very tame- although the black ones were much more sheepish than the brown or white ones- I'm not sure if this is just by chance, or maybe a scientific reason. There was one kitten in the clan, and she was very very cute.
View from our room
This is actually the flight home, as I never got a window seat on the outbound flight
My visit to Kos was one with ulterior motives, i.e, not just to holiday; but was somewhat of a recon' mission to weigh up any potential marinas to put my yacht, when I eventually get around to buying it. Unfortunately for me, when the Greeks misunderstand you, they do it on a colossal scale, and after asking a few different people, I downed tools on that plan. I basically got the impression there was a lot of forms to fill in, and taxes to pay. I took a boat trip out to Nisyros, and fell for the place in a big way. I'm pretty sure that when I get my self a yacht, I will be mooring it in the vicinity of the Aegean. There was no sign of cap in hand begging, or anything like that; which our media, with it's own little sinister agenda would like us all to believe! I'd had "why are you going there?" "Greece? Isn't that place in the shit?" from various outlets, in the weeks prior to leaving. My advice to these people, so eager to lap up anything from the mainstream media mammary gland; would be to unplug your television, open your back door, and throw the thing to fuck. Stop reading tabloids as well. While we're there, stop reading magazines. Why do you need to be told what to think? I realize listening to me would make my initial request a paradox; but; I'll let you off, as long as from this point on you DO AS I SAY.
A few shots from Nisyros
Me inside a crater, looking like a typical British Tourist.
Christine, snooping for bargains.
I had a wonderful time, and the island of Kos won me over, granted, not as much as Nisyros did. With friendly people, and fantastic food, if I ever do go on a holiday again, I'll be heading out to Greece..but in all honesty, it'll probably be in the boat rather than on a holiday! It was everything I imagined it would be, and more.
Spot the cyclist.
The road up to the the highest point, I biked up, then rented a quad to get some photos. Was getting some strange looks off locals in cars and on bikes, as I hauled my fat ass to the top rep by rep.
Photos do not do the gradient any justice.
No, they still don't...
The view from the top
My faith in humanity was restored on the way home, and the 'G-star raw' pricks were not to be seen. I met an old guy, at the airport; I let him get in line before me, just after check-in opened, as we were waiting at the front. I got talking to him, and he told me that he'd flown out to Crete, and was simply going around all the different islands finding his own way, rather than booking anything. He instantly became my new hero! I suspected that he was a widower, until he mentioned that his wife had booked him the flight home- he then told me that his wife was severely disabled, and that for 4 weeks of the year, his kids look after her and he goes on his travels. I said "I'm sure you're glad to be going back..." he jokingly looked in disapproval, as if to suggest he wanted to carry on island hopping forever; "don't worry, I haven't got a camera, I'm not wearing a wire" I said- he laughed, and made a comment about 'Merseyside humour' - I spoke with him again twice; as he was offering to get us drinks- as the cafe wouldn't take card payments, we refused his kind offer obviously, and again at the baggage collection place; where he told me of all the places he'd been over the years. He was a well travelled man, but I did wonder about what his life might have been like for the other 48 weeks of the year. I bid him farewell, and good luck and he did the same. It was one of those encounters which will hopefully stay with me for the rest of my life.