The
anticipation of a trip to Kos always starts with planning to pack the
entire contents of my wardrobe and someone else's, and over a period
of a week I whittle it down not before I've matched outfits, tops,
bottoms, days, nights, boat trips, trips to Kos town, Weddings,
Birthdays, festivals and this time a Christening. I weigh everything,
iron it or roll it up. I collate my First aid kit, my anti mosquito
kit, Sun lotion, before sun, after sun, lotion and potions for every
eventuality, flip flops, sunhats, shoes for day, shoes for night,
shoes for rough terrain, shoes for hiking, cardigans, jackets, coats,
wraps, shawls, books, bags, sunglasses, reading glasses, spare
reading glasses, cameras , tablets, phone, chargers, Kindle,
inflatable cushion for the plane, socks to keep my feet warm on a
night flight, cork screw, bottle opener, ear plugs, anti sickness
tablets and so on and so on. And then I look at this never ending
list of items, bulging out of my suitcase and downsize.......Several
times. Must remember Kos has all these things and anything else I
might need, so must leave space in the case to take things back.
The
time arrives to leave, check passport, check doors, check tickets,
check money etc anyone would think I had OCD. Anyway that's it on my
way. I don't know what Flight you prefer into Kos that is if you have
any choice but for me it's Gatwick direct mid afternoon 9 o'clock
arrival if you are lucky. After the usual Passport Control queue
having alighted from the Coach for the 100 yard trip across the
Tarmac the guess is on as to which of the three carousels your
Baggage is on and it's probably mixed in with the Manchester Flight
or the Munich or anywhere else for that matter but it's so worth the
wait when you walk out into warm night air. The Cecadas call to you,
the dampness descends on the hard surfaces fooling you into thinking
it's rained and the heady aroma of herbs mixed with that unmistakable
smell that tells you your home hits you. And the holiday starts and
the pace of life drops into siga siga.
Ok
you might arrive too late to get dinner but it's highly unlikely that
you won't find somewhere open ready to feed you.
The
early morning flights get you there in time to get straight into the
Pool, or take up residence on the sunbeds , or a bit of lunch and
wind down Mythos before you unpack. The early drive to the airport at
Silly O'clock was so worthwhile. The heat hits you and the shades
come on as you're thrown into Greek Summertime. The Holiday Reps wait
outside to get you to your coaches and anyone who lives on Kos not
being picked up by friends or Taxi now have a walk up the road to the
carpark that is the Supermarket, so time to get your essentials
before you drive home. The joy of the direct Flight.
The
Flight I like the least is the Heathrow to Athens night flight. By
10.00 you are one of the last passengers left sitting at Terminal 2
and it looks like an empty flight. But don't let it fool you as soon
as boarding is announced the Greeks arrive last minute all with
luggage they insist will fit into the cabin and eventually the
attendants give in because they will be so late leaving. I love the
way they carry the rucksacks on their backs in attempt to disguise
the thing. They are still plugged into their earphones and holding
loud conversations with friends and family and any semblance of row
1-20 or back to 30 soon disappears. I love this part of the journey,
something so familiar and comfortable.
It's
the Athens bit I don't like, I've been frisked, swiped, sent so many
times
through
the scanner that I now virtually wear nothing to save having my bra
jiggled around and hoisted, case searched and repeatedly scanned and
wo- betide you if you have got into such a flap you're still carrying
the water bottle you had on the plane because when you tried to come
directly through from international to domestic there was no one
around to let you through and so you had to rush out and back in
again. No wonder I look guilty and flushed. The return journey is
much more sedate. It's still worth
arriving
in Kos for breakfast as siga siga the day slowly starts.
