Foreign Travel? Alien More Like...

-


Anyone who knows us also know we love Greece, and in particular, the Ionian island of Corfu. Sadly Covid has knocked foreign travel on the head for us for the time being as for so many people: even given the affordance of restrictions being lifted and our Double-Jab status - the shine has been taken off it for the time being: mask-wearing in Messonghi just doesn't sound like fun to me. Perhaps a private apartment complex would solve this conundrum? Then the only hassle would be the getting to there from here - three-and-a-half hours in a plane in a mask is surely tolerable.

Well I did spot one such place in an ad in the FT Weekend. It's part of a (small) group of mini-resorts run by a company called Ultima Collection, sleeps twelve in six double ensuites in a complex built into the hillside overlooking the coastline of mainland Greece and Albania. It features the usual infinity pool, indoor and outdoor dining areas and many more of the standard gew-gaws of modern 'luxury' living, such as a gym, Turkish bath (I think that's what it is) and even a glass lift to take the strain off when going down to the private landing to one's yacht tender.

The price for this little haven in Greece that carefully avoids actually having to meet Greek people, or anyone else for that matter? A mere €130,000 per week. But for that alone you'll have to fend for yourselves. If you require the services of staff, chef, nanny and driver to name a but few of the available extra services, I'd tack on another twenty grand or so to the weekly bill. This, dear reader, is how the other half live - or rather considerably less than half. People to whom dropping three-hundred-thousand Euro on a fortnight's stopover in Greece counts as little more than pocket change; a sum that to most of us would be an unattainable annual salary and one the vast majority of the planet's population could probably never earn in a lifetime. I despair at the inequalities in this world.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Of Feedback & Wobbles

-
Image
Many years ago I came up with an analogy for poorly damped feedback loops. The feedback loop that prompted this frankly tart analogy was indeed a horror. Anyone who remembers shame-faced their first attempts at clutch control resulting in the good old kangaroo launch across the lights only to stall in the middle of the crossroads will have some idea of the kind of data transfer lag involved in said system. The analogy I made was that of a large blancmange. Untouched, a model of stasis and eminently stable and predictable; but prod the bugger and the resultant chaotic behaviour needs a very complex physical model and some very decent computing horsepower to predict its outputs, if at all. The system in question was a large and complex audio-visual display at what eventually became 'The Electric Mountain' in Llanberis. We were ultimately contracted to maintain the thing having been witness to and peripherally involved in its installation. Certainly not involved in its des
Read more

Sister Ray

-
Image
Ray Keats - aka Ann Key - local artist & family friend, died this morning. She'd been ill for some years, but never let it get in the way of her work or of tending to the massive network of friends, colleagues and fans she had accumulated over the decades. Her house on the High Street of Rachub, just below where we live - a former cockle factory(!) - bought many years ago when she and her late husband Ronald moved here from Manchester to set up home in Yr Achub, is currently still home to her paintings and drawings, and the front window displays her work, including the last drawing she made in hospital, just days before she died. Her good friend Colin has been a diamond in her latter years, looking out for her and just being there when she needed him. She will be much missed by this tiny community of ageing bohemians up here in the hills, but suffice it to say, George, her cat, will be well looked after now she's gone.
Read more

A Time of Connection

-
Image
I was just reflecting on the vacuum of continuity that's left behind when someone dies: that sudden sense of disjoint, of fracture, in one's personal history that takes one completely by surprise at the oddest moments. These pinch-points in memory can often yield some surprising revelations of fact about periods in one's past. One such occurred to me tonight, tending my rather lazy meal of pizza in its journey from shrink-wrap to mouth via the oven. Al's recent demise still catches me out from time to time: the space he left bounded by forty plus years of friendship. But the thing that struck me tonight was just how much change was happening on a personal and social level in the very early years of our acquaintance. Between moving here from Birmingham in September 1980 and our buying our first proper house eighteen months later, all manner of things occurred that would chart the course of our lives to the present day. At around the time of our meeting Alan & Irene [
Read more