Cottage on a Mountain Top
Trip Start ??? ??, 2002
15Trip End Ongoing
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The next bout of emotion was sheer disappointment. They arrived at hotels all across the town. Each had large sky blue pools, smelled of fresh Greek beer and where housed among the action of Malia. Girls where leaving in their masses. Group by group everyone departed. The bus had stopped at every hotel around the town and still The Band of Idiots remained. 'Where are you taking us', asked Pedro?
The next stop was definitely going to be the last. But, on and on the journey prolonged. Through the narrow streets, out of town and up the steep, steep hills. Chugging along the bus made it up the mountain side where only sheep inhabited and told The Band of Idiots to get off, walk around the trees, up the hill a little and there at the peak of the Grecian mountains - while not quite, but it wasn't far off it - would be there hotel.
Each of the group slugged away, pushing there cases in front of them fearing the worst, but behold the mountain side paradiso. Pool - Check. Bar - Check. Females - Check. A shop in the vicinity - kinda check (if you count 1 mile away as being nearby). Clubs and pubs - while they can make it down the hill to them so check.
A small elderly Greek lady - or 30 year old woman that spent too much time in the Mediterranean sun - approached Pedro and told him to bring his group along with her. As they walked past all the hotel rooms the women recited the rules; no noise after 10pm, no woman staying over, no jumping in the pool after dark, no nothing or you would be thrown out by her old husband. Having passed all the guest rooms in view, the group where wondering where in the blue hell they where staying.
Everyone who has ever travelled has worried about going to an unfamiliar holiday destination. Where will they be staying? Will it be near the beach? How far away is the pubs and restaurants? Has the holiday company actually sent them for a two week stay in a Greek farmhouse?
No one can actually settle down and relax on holiday until they know where they are living. In fact, much of the holiday can depend on how much of a shit hole you might be staying in. If it is too shitty then you can't really sit there drinking all day. If it's nice then time to settle in and have a good holiday. The Band of Idiots had a good track record, but this was a whole new country, they had passed all the nice hotels and for the grace of fucking Hercules they wanted the woman to show them where they would be staying.
Around the corner, there pessimistic doom erupted in delight. The Band of Idiots came upon a fruit garden filled with radiant peaches, oranges, lemons and mangoes that they just had to squeeze and mix in their vodka. These small fruit trees surrounded the whole yard, leaving just enough of a gap for a white cobbled stone path to stretch up to a marbled coloured tiled porch, which perched upon was a white stoned idyllic holiday cottage.
Good Apartments - Check. Check. Check.