Our Crete adventure began with one of those dreadful early evening flights. The kind that because of the time difference between the UK and Greece arrive really late at night. Fortunately passport control at Heraklion Airport is pretty lax so we sailed through to the chaos at the baggage carousels pretty quickly. Typically three flights were crammed on to the only working carousel, so we had to fight through crowds of Polish body builders and Russian bodyguards to retrieve our bags, once of course baggage handling had finished whatever break they were on.
Having collected the bags it was out past the disinterested customs officials into the mad chaotic fury of the coach park, where eventually we found the bus to our hotel in Rethymno and then about an hour to the drop off from there.
Since we were the last drop off the sight of the hotel porter waiting with his trolley was more than welcome, but then as the coach pulled away into the darkness our hearts sank as he uttered the words: ‘There is a problem, the hotel is overbooked’
Fortunately it turned out that we did have rooms, so after he’d scraped us off the floor he explained that a party of Russians had turned up and they didn’t have rooms for them so things had then got a bit moody in reception which was why he was lurking outside ready to sneak us in up the fire escape and bypass the argybargy.
As it happened this was a bit of a blessing in disguise as it saved us from all the form filling and bureaucratic nonsense that normally accompanies a Greek hotel check in and we were soon ushered into our rooms. The local time was by then 2am and we had been on the road since 2pm London time. My brain does not do figures so I have no idea how long we had been travelling, but I was delighted to sink between the sheets for a well-earned kip.
Ready to play in the sand when the Sun came up.
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