Corfu Ending

Where the hotel earned their money was in the spa section (spa being as I learned from a Bill Bryson book I was reading there originating in a town actually called spa.) It was very expensive, some of their treatments being around a thousand euros. We had to bargain hard even for the cheapest massage on the menu, sold to us by a Tunisian who worked there called Zico, whether or not that was his real name or not was unknown.

By the side of the salty freezing swimming pool there were always sun loungers to sit on and several slides, the largest of which I tried once, but was possibly the slowest slide I’ve ever come across. We had a lot of free drinks there, even though the tea was immensely hot and burnt the fingers and when you ordered it all you got was hot water in three plastic cups (completely ineffective) and some strange Greek milk, in which you brewed your own tea bag.

On another night out in Roda, we went to a bar called ‘Yamas’ which means ‘Cheers’ in English, which also served us free crisps. Unfortunately everyone didn’t know our names. This time however we got a taxi back – which turned out to be the taxi that had driven us there in the first place, and had been waiting for someone else outside. It must have been the off season.

We went back on the right day – for it was raining there – and sunny in England. The planes had to be changed before we got on it though, and we got on one which was destined/came from Bristol for some strange reason. The luggage this time cost me 60 euros, for they were sticklers for proficiency i

n Corfu, if not for punctuality. I also got in the wrong queue at the airport and spent a long time waiting in my queue, thinking my stubbornness would pay off, but ended up jumping into the other queue and leaving the other suckers behind me. My bag turned up though and the planes didn’t crash, so all in all it was a successful holiday