Just as there exists a hierarchy of religious holidays with one or two being the holiest in a year, holidays follow a hierarchy in my world. The most important of them all is the summer holiday, which will traditionally fall into the month of August. And all other holidays will be arranged according to their importance: meeting friends before solo-trips dominated by shopping and sightseeing. I likewise feel that summer holidays are to be spent in company of your nearest and dearest and follow the religious holiday routine of sitting idle, going for long walks and dinners, drinking a glass of wine (I otherwise don’t really drink) and reflect upon the year that has passed.
Similarly, spending your summer holiday alone feels like Covid-19 Christmas and New Year’s Eve 2020 stranded with a lower back hernia in addition to the worldwide travel ban. That being said, I managed to buy a bottle of champagne and even prepared a homemade tiramisu for New Years Eve 2020. You just got to make the most of every situation.
Nevertheless, I did spend a rather disappointing summer holiday in Crete last year. I felt lonely; very lonely. Traditionally, I would go to Croatia with a loved one (the South of France could be an acceptable alternative in my book) and do absolutely nothing besides swimming, tanning, and reading shallow books. Every July, I would feel how I was approaching the state of being holiday “ready” when deadlines keep on piling up, mistakes happen more than usual (please don’t mind my typos) and last-minute appointments need to be squeezed in before the northern hemisphere shuts down for a hard-to-navigate period of nearly two months. Last year things were different; illness and tragedy made it impossible to have a re-run of this most fabulous time of the year, but I knew that summer vacation is a must in my calendar. Without it, I will simply burn out. I cannot go twelve months without ever seeing the temperature rise above 30 degrees Celsius or feeling the sun on my skin for more than one day in a row. The first year after leaving the Middle East was the hardest for me. I just could not cope with the grey skies and the rain. And over the years, I have read in several self-improvement books and plagiarized Instagram quotes that “You cannot pour from an empty cup” and this is why I decided that in order to sustain my ability to support, I needed to take care of myself, and that meant eight days in Crete shabbating on the beach.
To be honest with you, I wanted to keep it as budget friendly as possible (apart from the airline because that is non-negotiable) because I also intended to squeeze in a weekend in Paris and seeing friends in London that year, and after all, it just wasn’t the real deal of what summer vacation should be. But guess what, that wasn’t a good idea.
I can’t say the hotel was bad, but the location certainly wasn’t great (I am talking weathered shell constructions of bankrupt hotel projects and a powerplant next door, as well as a cinema complex with live music events next to my bedroom window). To make things worse, the airline cancelled my flight the evening before my 5 a.m. airport pick-up and re-booked me on a budget airline with a two-hour detour and a 5-hour airport break. It felt like taking the bus to Crete, with the springs in the seats reminding me of my 2020 hernia. Fittingly, there were plenty of crying babies and ladies fishing out egg salad sandwiches from enormous Tupperware. Of course, the airport pick-up in Crete had been lost (non-refundable, of course) and the new driver was a sleaze who could not get over the fact that I was travelling alone. Let’s just say: I regretted not following my own advice on location, comfort, and safety.
The hotel itself was good, it was clean and modern and apart from the gross overstatement of what a “gym” meant (no, yoga classes do not count), it largely corresponded to what had been advertised when I made the booking. Dinner was included, and I did not have much to worry about. Apart from the fact that no one spoke to me. I cannot really tell you why, but the people in that hotel were the most uncommunicative bunch I have ever come across. I think I did not manage to talk to anymore for a full week, with the exception of the staff serving me coffee.
Not being able to strike up a conversation (not that I am a very chatty person by nature), really bothered me very much. People would also stare at me during breakfast and dinner and it just wasn’t very pleasant. The Germans would seize the same sunbeds around me every day, and still navigate avoiding eye contact at all costs.
During the day, I would do what I always do on a beach: sit in the shade, drink iced coffee, go for a swim and read a book. Unfortunately, I ran out of reading material within two days and all the left-over holiday literature were psychotic, depressing novels, or sci-fi trash. Before this vacation would eventually turn into a depressive slump, I decided to book a day excursion and thankfully that was the best idea I ever had. I went on a hike through one of the beautiful gorges of the island in – yes, the company of a bus full of people uninterested in talking to strangers.
The Dutch family that happily accepted me taking photos of them did not even care to ask whether I wanted a photo of myself as well. However, I finally got to move (in inappropriate footwear – gym shoes do not make good hiking shoes) and see the Island, and its beauty was breathtaking. Since my not so fortunate hotel choice meant that I was the first pick-up after Heraklion, I actually got to see the entire island in one day and it was wonderful.
So why am I telling you all this? I guess, I just want to remind you how necessary it is to take a break and do something with someone that you truly, truly enjoy. Just like religious holidays and family gatherings, we need this dedicated time of the year to take a break, to recharge our batteries and reflect upon our goals, plans and intentions for the new ‘year’ ahead. In a way, I find summer vacation cathartic. It is necessary. But you need to get it right. You need to find a way that it will serve your needs in a way that it will give you strength. Crete wasn’t it for me and this is why I share this story. What is it that makes you happy? And this is what you need to do. Or at least overpack, bring a pair of hiking shoes and make an effort to talk to the solo traveller!
The comfy traveller's diaries 