Luggage with a Mind of its Own

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August 26th 2016
Published: June 11th 2017
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We stop to fill our hire car with petrol. It costs about twice as much per litre as it does back home. It's probably a bit late now to decide that we should have done more walking.

It seems that we're sharing our flight to Athens with the Greek Symphony Orchestra. They've all brought their instruments onto the plane with them as hand luggage, so the overhead lockers are packed with violins, flutes and trumpets. The three double bass players get on last with their instruments in tow. The instruments are taller than their players. I wait with eager anticipation for the players to try to put them in the overhead lockers, but it seems that each of the double basses has bought its own seat. They take up an entire row and their players sit in the row behind them. The double basses look a bit odd; their tops stick up well above the tops of the heads of any of the passengers.

The sea below us looks very rough, and there are lots of white caps on the waves. It's very windy, and as the plane comes in to land it feels like we're in a washing machine. A lot of the passengers are looking very nervous. We land successfully and everyone on the plane claps loudly.

An older Greek lady is taking her dog in the cabin with her and she's carrying it in a very fashionable looking bag. The dog's very small, and it has a very high pitched yap. It yaps a lot. I love dogs, but I'm not sure this extends to being yapped at from close range for an hour. Fortunately it's sitting at the other end of the plane. I wonder if you're allowed to take dogs in the cabin with you on flights in Australia.

We land in Mykonos. There's a hurricane in progress and we get a lot of wind assistance as we walk from the plane to the terminal. We wait for our luggage. The luggage belt stops and there's no one left waiting except for us. I get a familiar sinking feeling. It seems that our luggage is again not keen on our itinerary and has decided that it would rather stay in Athens. This is becoming a nasty habit.

Our hotel is right on the waterfront, about a five minute walk from Mykonos town. We get a snack lunch. We've scarcely heard an Australian accent since we left home. While we're having lunch another couple comes into the restaurant and orders a drink. They're Australian, so we chat to them. Another couple comes in. They're also Australian. Four more people come in, and they're all Australian as well. This is a very small hotel, and I start to wonder how everyone here can be Australian. Perhaps Malcolm Turnbull has got wind of Vladimir Putin's plans for Rhodes and decided that Australia should grab Mykonos while no one's looking.

We go wandering. It's still ridiculously windy, and I can't get my hat to stay on. We walk through the back streets, and then along the waterfront to the area known as Little Venice. Surf's up, and we get a tad damp from the breaking waves as we navigate the narrow path along the waterfront. The windmills that Mykonos is famous for don't have sails; just wire frames that could presumably support sails if someone wanted to attach them. It's probably just as well that there are no sails attached. I don't think they'd last too long in this wind.

We get back to the hotel. Our luggage is not here. They told us at the airport that it would be delivered at about 6pm, and it's now 7.30pm. We call the number that we were given. No one answers it. We try it again, and again, and again. We check the number on the airline's website, and then send an email to the address we were given. It's 8.30pm and I think our luggage is probably in Uzbekistan by now. I wonder if they have a lost luggage service in Uzbekistan.

We decide to stop worrying about our luggage and head out for dinner. We agree that the main criterion for picking a restaurant is that it should be protected enough from the wind so that our food doesn't get blown into the harbour. We find a place on the waterfront. The wind seems to be blowing straight into it, but it's surprisingly calm once we get a few rows back. There are two middle aged men sitting by themselves on the tables either side of us, and both of them spend most of the time we're here on their phones. One of them orders a meal, but doesn't eat any of it, which seems a bit suspicious. Issy says that she thinks that they're businessmen, but I think they're up to something much more shady. I wonder if they're working together. If so, it's a bit worrying that we've been seated between them. Maybe they're Russian spies, and we're being targeted in revenge for yesterday's blog about Vladimir Putin. I decide that I must remember to put the chain on the hotel door tonight. I'm not sure that our hotel door has a chain.

We get back to the hotel to find that our luggage has fortunately found its way back from Uzbekistan.

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