The journey to Greece begins the day before the flight. We have an 05:55 flight, so have the new to me option of dropping the hold baggage off the evening before. It’s called twilight bag drop, and is attractive as we live so close to the airport and it removes one potential source of stress from the day itself. So off we go, with one rucksack to check in, and head for the Jet2 bag drop in terminal 2
And there we hit our first problem. Jet2 flights to Kalamata
have been operating out of terminal 1 since March. Schoolboy error. Check your
terminal before going to the airport. It’s a long walk down deserted corridors.
I have tied up my rucksack straps to keep them tidy, so have to sling the bag
over one shoulder. After 15 minutes this starts to feel heavy. I am glad of the
packing review that shed 2.5kg of weight, 15kg seems heavy enough.
Bag checked in, but soft rucksacks have to be taken to the
oversized bag drop upstairs. I’m so glad we’re doing this the day before. Then
it’s the long walk back to the terminal 2 car park, validate the token for free
parking and home for a de-stressing beer and book the taxi for 4am the next
morning
Neither of us slept much, but I guess lying down is at least
a form of rest. My alarm goes off at 3am, and I get dressed and make tea. I
feel very tired and jaded. It’s not a natural time to be awake
The taxi doesn’t arrive at 4 as scheduled, it is leaving its
base in Wythenshawe at that time. But I can track the vehicle, which is an
improvement on the old days when you would be making frantic phone calls to see
what was going on. But we’ve loads of time, we know the right terminal, and
things are relatively calm
Security queues are light, but the Burrito Grande I’ve brought for my in-flight breakfast causes a security scare. It is swabbed for explosives and given the green light. We buy some very mediocre coffees from Upper Crust, one of the few outlets with a functional coffee machine. It should be the last mediocre coffee we have for a while
The four hour flight seems to pass quite quickly. Vera has pre-ordered breakfast, and the hot food does smell good as I eat my way through my burrito. The seat next to Vera is free, and she is able to curl up and lie down. Even to sleep a little – always the best way to travel. In between trying to rest and doze I manage to complete the Guardian crossword.
We land at Kalamata, a tiny airport. There’s a very slow
moving queue as we reap our Brexit benefits at passport control.
Barbara and Peter are there to meet us. Barbara has been
allowed into the baggage reclaim hall so that she can sit down, a small act of
human decency that larger institutions often fail with. She broke bones in her
leg and ankle at the start of February and is still recovering. It’s hugs all
round, and we then set off for a slow lunch overlooking the sea and five years
worth of catching up
The drive up to Crisokelleria brings memories flooding back, as does the view from the patio
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