I awoke some hours later, feeling not refreshed, but further fatigued, relieved to hear that the journey was near to its conclusion.My father had earlier bought a bottle of water for me, and I immediately opened it before consuming it quickly.
Soon, the plane landed, and I headed towards Baggage Collection. I had the (mistaken) belief we would be required to wait for about an hour to collect our baggage and continue our journey, but three hours later we were still waiting for even the rollers to run. I looked around at all of the glum faces, and despite the fact that I hid it, I'm sure other people noticed mine. Eyes met, with the same impatient, angered look, and children sat pathetically on the floor, head in hands.
Finally, the bags arrived. Oh Joy!! Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief, before commencing on with their trip. We traipsed over towards the tanned, smiling reps, and with suprising efficiency were guided to our coach, headed to Lardos.
To my dismay, Lardos was "ninety minutes" away, according to the rep. After four hours of mountainous, narrow roads, terrible driving from all parties, and the persistant droning of the rep, we arrived at the hotel.
Lardos wasn't an especially inspiring place. Although it was late, there were no people walking the streets, no music or lights. It had the hallmarks of a ghost town.
My father and I retreived our baggage from the driver, who was as greasy and as pot bellied as every stereotype imaginable, before entering the hotel. The receptionist was an archaic man, with milk-white hair, and he seemed strangely subdued. Perhaps this was because he was forced to sit at a desk through the night with nothing but a fan for company, I thought.
As soon as I entered our hotel room, I felt the heat, which was something of an amazing sensation, which even made me feel quite ill. My father recogised my suffering, and proptly passed me some water, which I gulped gratefully. I then went to sleep.
The next morning, my father woke me up, and instructed me to have a shower in order to freshen up. After that, we descended into the main reception area, where there was a dining hall/cafeteria.
We were greeted by a chirpy native, who had a TERRIBLE haircut. I remember him being very courteous, as he guided us to our table. Unfortunately, the breakfast service was abysmal: warm milk and stale cornflakes doth not a good breakfast make. I protested this point to my father, but he, to my amazement, admonished me, so I simply sat there, arms crossed, and silent. There were a few stares, but I ignored them, and I was glad when my father finished his food, so as we could leave.
The next day, we departed on one of the many excursions available to us, a trip to Rhodes Town. The city was a stunning sight to behold, with the ancient city still intact, providing magnificant views from atop the acropolis overlooking the menacing ocean, and from within the many rooms adorned with beautiful Greek Architecture. I must admit that, despite the historical and educational value of Rhodes, I found it rather boring, but, remembering the previous day I did not say anything to my father, instead, I smiled politely, saying "That's nice" on more than one occasion.
After we arrived back at our accomadation, I decided to have a swim in the pool. I merely took my T-Shirt off, and dived straight in. The water was refreshing, and I had great fun performing somersaults into the pool, "surfing" on lilos, and annoying the over-65s by diving in near to them, causing them to receive a soaking. The only negative thing which occured was the fact that I had no suncream on. The only negative thing about that was that I was covered in water, and the only negative thing about that is that, given the right temperature, water boils. My father initialy found my plight amusing, but as soon as he realised how serious the "burns" were, his tone became one of a concerned parent.
Over the rest of the vacation, I found myself "room-bound" during sunshine hours, only leaving the room at night. Even then, I faced incredible pain by merely clothing myself, and found it hard to move my neck without causing myself injury.
During the evenings, the man with the amusing hair, who's name was Stergos would serve drinks to myself and my father, and often ask "Johniis" how I was feeling. We struck up a decent friendship over our stay, if only because we couldn't do anything else. He was a hard-working, honest, and likeable man, and one whom I missed after we went home, as his helpful manner began to grow on me.
The days of book reading and crossword solving passed relatively quickly, and soon we were heading back home.
On the final day, I said my goodbyes to the locals, and my father and I began purchasing gifts for relatives, and getting rid of any spare Greek coins. In the evening, the coach arrived on time, and I realised that I had wasted a holiday that had so much potential.
My neck had healed from a "pain" stand point, but my friends are, to this day, still mocking me for the scar everytime we visit the swimming baths, and I still regret my naivety to this day.
Overall, I do have positive reflections of my holiday. Instead of making friends with some Mancunian for the sake of it, I had a more relaxing, thoughtful experience, although, not by choice. The sunburn ruined the holiday, but also made it what it was, so in that way, I enjoyed it.
By John Beesley, 10Bingham