Visiting the Salty Paws in Corfu

So after 4 months I finally fly out to visit my brother! It seems Corfu has fallen out of grace as a Dutch holiday destination, as the only flight I can find leaves from Brussels airport. I am reminded that Belgium is indeed slightly less organised than Holland. When I check I am going to the correct airport, I find out that this particular airport is referred to by at least four names: Brussels National airport; Brussels International airport; Brussels Zaventem and finally Brussels airport. Or maybe they are just trying to act big, making people think they have four airports? The parking is similarly disorganised- every space is taken up and then some: even the flowery patches along the road and the ramps upto the parking garages have cars parked on them. I have that holiday feeling already!

The queue of economy class - oh the agony!

It could of course also be me- being spoiled by emirates business class and their pickup service perhaps? That thought strikes me as I see the queue for check-in. It's a classic: so long that you can't see what its for. It moves quickly though and before I know it I'm on the plane. (Well, after a little to and fro-ing as I wasn't on the passenger list. I thought it was quite funny for the lady behind the Thomas Cook check-in desk to shout out 'does anyone have the phone number for Thomas Cook?') Meals are served- or what passes for meals on planes nowadays- to everyone, but me! I bring this to the attention to the stewardess who diligently checks a long list. 'Did you purchase a meal, sir?'. Obviously, I didn't so I quietly went back to my seat. Before long I washaving a beautiful view, looking down on the Greek islands.

The Greeks one-upped the Belgians. You had to guess which baggage belt your luggage would show up on. After playing this game with the other few hundred passengers of the three planes that arrived, I made my way to the taxi stand. There were plenty taxis, but they were more interested in shouting and arguing with one another than getting clients in their cars. There were only 4 people in the 'queue' of which I was first. I walk over to the first taxi, TaxiDriver: 'please go back to the queue'. I give him a puzzled look but he continues shouting to other drivers. After a few minutes another driver comes over. OtherDriver: 'Where to?' Me: 'Avlaki'. OtherDriver: 'that's far' and walks away. A few more minutes pass in the now familiar chaos and another driver comes up: 'Avlaki?' I nod.

An hour's drive later we pull up to a lovely bay where I see my brother waiting already at the only restaurant of the bay: Cavo Barbaro. As I change into my shorts to get into the dinghy I realise I have packed even more clothes too many than I thought. It is so warm, Walbert informs me that the dress code is board shorts 24 hrs per day, t-shirt optional in the evenings (mainly for going to a restaurant). Well, at least I don't have to walk with my suitcase!

View from the beach

On the boat!

The boat is even bigger and better equipped than I had imagined, but that will have to wait until later- I'm going for a swim!