In which I am sick on holiday and the hotel staff openly hate me.

Antibiotics Girl is a sick girl. This is the first time I’ve ever failed to complete a course of antibiotics, but I quit this now, I seriously quit, I normally complete antibiotics with a sense of religious duty but in this case I physically cannot stomach any more, my body won’t accept any more. I am supposed to take them four times a day. The one I took yesterday lunchtime instantly resulted in antibiotics-related fatigue and a special kind of antibiotics headache that I’ve learned to recognise, so I went for a lie down, imagining that I would feel ok in an hour or two. Woke up two hours later with a headache that had gone from quite bad to blinding, and that’s when the vomiting started. Twelve hours of it. I am not even joking. I crawled from my bed to the toilet and back again, with so much head pain that I could hardly see, vomiting all the way, from 3.15 in the afternoon until three in the morning. I really thought that Klaus and I were going to have to visit a Greek hospital because apparently hospitals are my new fun place to hang out.

Thankfully the vomiting and the head pain eventually subsided, leaving me as weak and limp as a rag doll, but not before the hotel management had called my room at 2am to tell me to throw up more quietly as I was disturbing the other guests(!)

They really don’t like us at this hotel, I can tell. I know being violently sick isn’t the greatest but in every other respect we aren’t horrible guests. We are polite. We spend our money in the hotel restaurant. We don’t make a noise. They don’t like us, though. We are just wrong. They don’t know what to make of us. For starters, we aren’t an elderly couple, which is this hotel’s target market. We aren’t elderly and as for being a couple, they don’t know what to think. We have separate rooms, but only because I changed the booking at the last minute because I felt ill. There’s a visible 20-year age gap. He’s German while I’m English and we don’t look like each other, we’re pretty obviously not related. So there’s that. And then we are doing things which seem innocent to us but which apparently are causing them all kinds of pain.

For example, there are tables all over the terrace of the hotel. Some are near the bar, and that is where the hotel staff want people to sit, presumably because it saves them walking further than they absolutely must to bring food. Klaus and I choose a table as far away from everyone else as possible because we want to be able to talk in private without holiday eavesdroppers. The hotel staff hate this. Hate it. They are constantly trying to get us to move. Every time we order a drink or lunch. ‘Would you like to move to a table over here?’ ‘No thanks, we like this table’. ‘Disapproving glare’. FFS. If they don’t want people to sit at tables which are more than ten feet away from the bar then fucking remove the tables. Honestly. Since we are spending all of our time in this area, with Klaus writing a book and me feeling ill and screwing up my knitting, this little struggle over the tables has become a thing that happens half a dozen times a day, at every meal and whenever we want to order drinks in between.

Then, for another thing, we keep getting our laptops out. This makes the hotel staff look pained as well. I don’t know why. They seem to have fixed ideas about what holiday guests are supposed to do and pulling out truckloads of technology (we both have laptops, iPads, phones, cameras, multiple accessories and gadgets, headphones etc) is definitely not it. We needed to borrow a plug extension cable because we had so much technology that we needed to plug in and they lent it to us quite reluctantly and only after some prevarication and are utterly convinced that we aren’t going to give it back to them.

Also, we turned off the TV in the TV room so we could work on our laptops in there. I hasten to add that this hotel is 80% empty, what with it being so early in the season, and we were the only people who came anywhere near the TV room that evening, but that upset them as well.

We are leaving tomorrow and they will be so glad to see the back of us. They don’t even fake-smile at us any more when we pass them around the building, they just look grumpy. We are bad guests. We don’t look right and they can’t figure out what our relationship is and I throw up too loudly and we use too much technology and insist on sitting at far-away tables and we turn off the TV that someone might want to watch even though we are the only people there.

I looked up some reviews of this hotel on TripAdvisor and it said that the decor was shabby but the service was fantastic. I would have to reverse that, personally, the decor is absolutely fine. The service has descended from bewildered to cool to borderline hostile in three days. It’s meant to be five stars, as well. I’ve stayed in five star hotels and they will do anything for you, absolutely anything, nothing is too much trouble. This is not five stars. This is Fawlty Towers and Corfu is like Torquay.

We don’t care. I am too ill to care if the hotel staff want to be upset about stupid things like which table we sit at and Klaus doesn’t care because he is writing his book at an incredible pace and is full of pride and achievement. So it is okay. In the grand scheme of things.

I’ll show you some photos in a day or two. That’s all for tonight. Bah humbug.

2 thoughts on “In which I am sick on holiday and the hotel staff openly hate me.”

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