Even authors need a break from time to time, and following the amazing launch of GLUE Publishing, I was ready for some time in the sun. Nothing to do with the truly awful weather we'd been having in the UK. Really. My friend and I hopped on a plane and took off to Kefalonia, a small Greek island in the Ionian Sea.
When I say 'hopped' on a plane, I actually mean staggered, sweating and panting , occasionally swearing, down miles of airport corridors and across wet and windy tarmac to the plane. Fortunately I have a very understanding and patient friend. Generally, when travelling, I like to take both my hips with me, so a heartfelt thank you to the anonymous and patient man who put up with my left hip encroaching on his seat.
Kefalonia is a beautiful island and our hotel was a mere stone's throw from the beach. So close in fact that the swimming pool overlooked the sea. Perfection. Swimming in clear blue seas with fish nibbling my toes is a delight that soothes my soul and makes the mermaid part of me whole again. I had to make sure I stayed out of fishing lanes for fear of being harpooned accidentally, but managed to swim across the bay and also did some form of snorkelling...okay, I didn't have an actual snorkel and only the goggles I use for swimming in the pool, but nonetheless had a lovely time diving under to explore. I'm a lot more buoyant than I used to be and losing an ear plug in the swimming pool proved annoying as I kept diving under to find it, with said earplug irritatingly drifting away from my grasping fingers for what felt like hours. It was probably only a few minutes, but it felt like hours and I like to think I entertained the glamorous grannies lying around the pool. Happily I love being in the water and rather enjoyed this little adventure.
The thing with islands though, is that they're mountainous and getting anywhere on Kefalonia involves driving up and down tortuous roads with horrible hair pin bends, often without any barrier to stop you from plummeting over the edge. I spent some time while heading up and up and up, deciding if I should a) jump as we went over the edge, b) jump as we hit the trees or c) wait until we sank to the sea floor and then swim out. Happily, I didn't have to make any decision as my friend drove exceedingly well and we reached all destinations white-faced, sweating and with heart palpitations...I mean, we reached our destinations safely and serenely. Pass the ouzo.
Driving through the tiny villages dotted around the island was fascinating. We met many goats, sat in a 'traffic jam' (four cars) behind a flock of raggedy sheep while their female shepherd tried to persuade them that a field was a better option than a dusty road and more than once came upon old men or women sitting on dilapidated plastic chairs on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. The sights of the locals, be it on plastic chairs or tiny fishing boats with a beach umbrella the only protection from the sun, or on the steps of the village church surrounded by cats and pigeons, was fodder for me and my future writing. I began writing a new book having been so inspired by all I'd seen.
I noticed many dollhouse-sized 'churches' beside the roads and asked our ever helpful hotel manager, Yiannis, about them. Many had bottles of water, burning candles, rosary beads and sometimes prayer cards inside them, so I figured they're some kind of shrine. Turns out they're memorials to people that had died on that exact spot -not in the hospital or at home - in that exact place on the road. he said it's a bit of a dark joke that Kefalonia has no warning signs, just these, what I call 'death houses', in dangerous spots. The family is then obliged to care for them, replace the oil and burning candles - placed there to light the departed soul's way to Heaven, for perpetuity. Those that are uncared for and have fallen into disrepair shows that the family line has died out and that no one is left to care for the shrine. I found this all very moving and a little bit ghoulish, to be honest.
I learned a number of things on my holiday that will help me, and perhaps you, in the future. Very few people actually look amazing in a swimming costume. Getting on and off a sun lounger elegantly is impossible. No one cares about my jiggly thighs. Middle-aged men should not wear psychedelic purple speedos. Especially when said speedos have lost their supportive qualities. No. Just. No. Anyone, of any age, size or shape should jump off a boat into the deep blue sea at least once in their life (happily I had plenty of young, strong, sailors to haul me back on board afterwards). Handsome young Greek men turn into fat old Greek papas. Nothing wrong with that of course, merely an observation.
I've returned exhausted and shall now spend the next few weeks recovering and wishing I was back in the deep blue sea. Sadly I'll have to be content with the local leisure centre for the next year or so, until I am able to once again take off on some kind of new idyll. Perhaps Greece, perhaps Turkey, maybe Croatia. The world is getting smaller and easier to explore but as long as there's good company and the deep blue sea, I will be content.
When I say 'hopped' on a plane, I actually mean staggered, sweating and panting , occasionally swearing, down miles of airport corridors and across wet and windy tarmac to the plane. Fortunately I have a very understanding and patient friend. Generally, when travelling, I like to take both my hips with me, so a heartfelt thank you to the anonymous and patient man who put up with my left hip encroaching on his seat.
Kefalonia is a beautiful island and our hotel was a mere stone's throw from the beach. So close in fact that the swimming pool overlooked the sea. Perfection. Swimming in clear blue seas with fish nibbling my toes is a delight that soothes my soul and makes the mermaid part of me whole again. I had to make sure I stayed out of fishing lanes for fear of being harpooned accidentally, but managed to swim across the bay and also did some form of snorkelling...okay, I didn't have an actual snorkel and only the goggles I use for swimming in the pool, but nonetheless had a lovely time diving under to explore. I'm a lot more buoyant than I used to be and losing an ear plug in the swimming pool proved annoying as I kept diving under to find it, with said earplug irritatingly drifting away from my grasping fingers for what felt like hours. It was probably only a few minutes, but it felt like hours and I like to think I entertained the glamorous grannies lying around the pool. Happily I love being in the water and rather enjoyed this little adventure.
The thing with islands though, is that they're mountainous and getting anywhere on Kefalonia involves driving up and down tortuous roads with horrible hair pin bends, often without any barrier to stop you from plummeting over the edge. I spent some time while heading up and up and up, deciding if I should a) jump as we went over the edge, b) jump as we hit the trees or c) wait until we sank to the sea floor and then swim out. Happily, I didn't have to make any decision as my friend drove exceedingly well and we reached all destinations white-faced, sweating and with heart palpitations...I mean, we reached our destinations safely and serenely. Pass the ouzo.
Driving through the tiny villages dotted around the island was fascinating. We met many goats, sat in a 'traffic jam' (four cars) behind a flock of raggedy sheep while their female shepherd tried to persuade them that a field was a better option than a dusty road and more than once came upon old men or women sitting on dilapidated plastic chairs on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. The sights of the locals, be it on plastic chairs or tiny fishing boats with a beach umbrella the only protection from the sun, or on the steps of the village church surrounded by cats and pigeons, was fodder for me and my future writing. I began writing a new book having been so inspired by all I'd seen.
I noticed many dollhouse-sized 'churches' beside the roads and asked our ever helpful hotel manager, Yiannis, about them. Many had bottles of water, burning candles, rosary beads and sometimes prayer cards inside them, so I figured they're some kind of shrine. Turns out they're memorials to people that had died on that exact spot -not in the hospital or at home - in that exact place on the road. he said it's a bit of a dark joke that Kefalonia has no warning signs, just these, what I call 'death houses', in dangerous spots. The family is then obliged to care for them, replace the oil and burning candles - placed there to light the departed soul's way to Heaven, for perpetuity. Those that are uncared for and have fallen into disrepair shows that the family line has died out and that no one is left to care for the shrine. I found this all very moving and a little bit ghoulish, to be honest.
I learned a number of things on my holiday that will help me, and perhaps you, in the future. Very few people actually look amazing in a swimming costume. Getting on and off a sun lounger elegantly is impossible. No one cares about my jiggly thighs. Middle-aged men should not wear psychedelic purple speedos. Especially when said speedos have lost their supportive qualities. No. Just. No. Anyone, of any age, size or shape should jump off a boat into the deep blue sea at least once in their life (happily I had plenty of young, strong, sailors to haul me back on board afterwards). Handsome young Greek men turn into fat old Greek papas. Nothing wrong with that of course, merely an observation.
I've returned exhausted and shall now spend the next few weeks recovering and wishing I was back in the deep blue sea. Sadly I'll have to be content with the local leisure centre for the next year or so, until I am able to once again take off on some kind of new idyll. Perhaps Greece, perhaps Turkey, maybe Croatia. The world is getting smaller and easier to explore but as long as there's good company and the deep blue sea, I will be content.