I’m in Greece, in a village called Koskina on the island of Euboea. It’s not a touristy zone and I’m not doing much tourism. I’m mostly holed up with a bunch of imaginary friends at The Crooked House working on my whodunnit Murder by Moonlight, and I’m loving it. It’s comfortable and peaceful and the surrounding countryside is lovely.
I’m also loving being reunited with my suitcase.
I planned it all so carefully.
The flights meant that I had to stay overnight in Barcelona. Since I had to get back to the airport by stupid o’clock, I lashed out on an airport hotel with a courtesy bus that, yes, definitely, would be available at stupid o’clock.
My friend gave me a second hand backpack she finds slightly too small. It’s designed to carry a laptop and camera gear. With a bit of ingenuity I managed to cram in clean undewear, T shirt and a toothbrush for the overnight stop too. So I checked the big suitcase through. Nice not to lug it around at stupid o’clock, right?
I had a rather pleasant evening in Barcelona, slept like a I’d drunk 40 black coffees, and caught my flight to Athens. I was dead chuffed with myself when I managed to read ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? in baggage reclaim, and I sat down to wait for my case.
And wait.
And wait.
I said, “Oh deary me,” or words to that effect, and went to find the lost luggage desk.
Not much of a queue fortunately, and she spoke pretty good English which was a very good thing, seeing as I can scarecly say “Hello” in Greek. What was my address in Greece? Dunno. I think the village is Koskina? So I gave them my friend’s phone number and they promised to call.
I thought the most likely explanation was that the suitcase was still in Barcelona and would get to me 24 hours later since there’s one flight per day. I finally got out intot he concourse and found the taxi driver my friend had organised. She spoke some English and kindly stopped off at a supermarket for shower gel, shampoo and laundry detergent (I’d used the hotel’s in Barcelona) and she dropped me at the ferry terminal.
Of course I’d missed the ferry after all the messing about at the airport. The ticket office was closed – I really hoped they’d open shortly before the ferry arrived. The restaurant was closed too. The kiosk as open, and I got myself a rather sad sandwich and a coffee. (The Greek for sandwich is sandwich and the Greek for cofffee is kaffe, so that was OK). And I sat and looked at the Aegean* for an hour or so. It’s very pretty.
UPDATE: My bad. it’s actually the Evian Gulf. The Aegean starts on the other side of the island.
The ferry ride was rather nice. and my friend met me at the other side and drove me to Koskina and my cottage.
I washed Wednesday’s clothes and hung them out to dry before I went to bed. In the morning they were dry enough.
When there was still no word about my suitcase by 2pm Friday I started trying to contact the airline. The number they’d given me was Spanish, but the call kept being cancelled. So I spent about an hour poking around the internet and came out with another Spanish number. I got a recorded message saying that it wouldn’t accept calls from a mobile.
A customer service line that won’t take calls from a mobile. In 2019. Thank you Vuelling.
Luckily they’d just called my friend and the suitcase finally arrived on Saturday morning. Clean clothes! The notebook with my plans for the whodunnit! Presents for my friend!
My good camera!
By that time, I’d been wearing the same trousers for 4 days. I half expected them to stand up by themselves.
Anyway, that’s my news. Now I have to get on with murdering people. With a few breaks for getting to know Greece a little.
