Holidays From Hell
‘Where was the busload of nuns you ran off the road in a past life that caused you to get this shit?’ asked my friend Roger. He was referring to my holiday text.
After receiving the devastating news that my life was not being renewed for another season, I had taken off for the coast of Turkey to find The Husband, who was disembarking a boat and heading to a secluded (ie middle of nowhere) hotel where I would meet him.
I did so. Just in time for the hotel to catch fire.
Fierce winds and high temperatures turned the surrounding area into an inferno. We boarded a speedboat to outrun the flames only to find the wind was blowing them directly at the hotel. Pete ran back through the smoke and rescued our wallets and phones (Pete is really all you need in an emergency), then took water to the overlooked staff. We spent the evening on a hilltop seeing just how close the fire had come to the rooms.
The damage to us; some smoke inhalation, dead mice in the pool, thick ash everywhere and a lingering charred smell. It could have been so much worse. One Russian family had returned to their room and packed four suitcases. People aren’t always rational in a crisis, including me. Luckily Pete was on hand to provide common sense. The staff were exemplary, even though nothing like this had ever happened to them before.
Holidays and I have a history. Previous thrills included being airlifted out of Sri Lanka during the historic floods, injuries (severed retinas in Mexico, anyone?) and earthquakes.
It helped the time fly in a place where there was nothing to do except eat and bake in the heat. I could have taken some exercise by beating up a climate change denier but I was too exhausted. Six days has roared by and I’m heading back – I finally have the time to go anywhere I want, but when talk of bucket lists comes up I throw up. I’ve picked the life I lead because 1. I was lucky enough to have a choice and b. It seems I already made my choices. (See what I did there?)
It’s raining in London. Of course. Hurrah.