Kefalonia Day two

Spent the morning in Agostolli, the capital of the island an where a cruise ship loaded with a thousand Italians had just docked. I got outta there fast on the back of a motorbike and set out for the famous Myrtos beach. I spent the afternoon in Sami. Which is on the other side of the island from Myrtos entirely but I now have a map and fully intend to post a picture of Myrtos tomorrow. The ride across the central mountains was, however, uplifting and whilst it strikes me that there is nothing totally unique about Kefalonia, it is nevertheless a beautiful island...with shit -very shit- road signs.

After lunch back in the capital, I returned to the hotel pool and found, to my glee, that the Little Greek Gits had vanished for the day. The cacophonous music was still there but less intrusive when I stuffed my lugholes with earphones and listened to I gioielli della Madonna. As I write, sitting at the pool bar after dinner and a chat on Skype with Sally and Fiora, Greek pop music has begun to emanate from the speakers so this might be a short blog.
In fact, that's it. I am off to bed with Lady Antonia Fraser (her book).

Kefalonia Day one

Leaving London was a double edged sword. Fiora and Sally were sorry to see me go and I will miss them. On the other hand it was pissing with rain and cold at 3 in the morning so sunshine was something to look forward to. The flight was uneventful other than I had the misfortune to be sat next to a large woman. Now, I don't mind sharing my seat (and she ensured I did) but did she have to fidget so incessantly - and from time to time have these weird and violent paroxysms that shook the entire row? I was a little horrified to notice she was sitting behind me on the transfer bus and I had visions of a juddering poolside. She fidgeted on the bus too, rocking my seat back and forth but I breathed a sigh of relief when she got off before me.

Kefalonia is pretty much like every other Greek island I have been too; lots of oleander, bougainvillaea and wispy pines. That's it more or less. The hotel pool, high on a mountain, has a wonderful view; a mile away is the Ionian and before that a plain of olive groves. Between the olive groves and the Ionian is the airport runway, which is not as depressing as it sounds since I quite like watching planes land and take off, especially when a few hundred metres above them.

Things of immediate concern; shit music played around the pool and a bunch of Greek kids playing on lilos. The lilos will be punctured by the morning so that is not too difficult to deal with. The music I understand is an ever present and will be something of a greater challenge. As for the kids themselves, I don't think they quite realise the danger they are in. But they will. Oh, they will. I have already taken a particularly virulent dislike to the older of the group - about sixteen - with bum fluff and a hair style so heavily adorned with gel it stays spiky even in water. He shouts and dunks the other kids. If he escapes without getting half drowned, the recipient of my specialist underwater and unseen punch in the solar plexus, I will be very surprised. It is a technique I developed for my deeply irritating younger cousins in Italy and it is lethal.

Hey ho, here we go!