Go Hard or Go Home


Go Hard or Go Home


It was that time of year again where like every one else, i dreamed of a week long getaway from the hustle and bustle of city life.  Through weeks of meticulous planning and whittling down the various destinations myself and Sinead settled on 7 days in Corfu.  Or in reality we booked last minute and seemed like it would do the job just fine. Oh sun, sea and a pool for 7 whole days  simply smashing. Right about here i should clarify that it was in fact 7 days in Kavos Corfu. Oh i can see the understanding already dawning on the faces of many of my english readers, thats right, it was Kavos, go hard or go home. I blame being Irish for my total lack of knowledge of this being a ‘Hav it’ holiday.  I was finally informed by work colleagues after booking as to what i could of expected. Feck it i thought, it would do.

Late night flights


Flights were at ridiculous o clock.  Flying with Monarch Airlines, lets just say there just as shit as ryan air with one key difference, they couldn’t give a fuck about how much hand luggage you got, and they print off your tickets for you ( luxuries i was not used too). After coming up from the gatwick express we didn’t need to look for a screen giving us information regarding our check in desk. We simply looked for the longest line  full of the youngest, loudest, tanned chaviest people we could see, and joined up right at the end. Alarm bells starting ringing slightly here when everyone in the line start acknowledging each other by pumping chests and bums in greetings. 

A 3 hour flight, London to Corfu. Books at the ready, time should literally fly. I was even jammy enough to score extra leg room sitting near the front by the door. ( Sinéad did try to steal this). Of course this being me, there must be some catch, and there was. In the form of the loud losers sitting next to us and behind. ‘Lets all do a cross word together very loudly to annoy everyone’. ‘ LUKE LUKE, ARE YOU GETTING A HOT CHOCOLATE???? WHAT BAR ARE YOU GETTING WITH YOUR HOT CHOCOLATE???’. How about i take the hot chocolate and fuck it over you Luke and all your shitty little friends who cant even get a obvious answer right in a fecking cross word. the answer was LIAM NEESON for fuck sake.

When the plane landed i experienced something altogether new. ‘Chavy’ Youths running to the front of the plane (in some cases with there Mothers) to be the first off. Here, was our first encounter with the most standard formation of lads i have ever seen. One fat, loud and extra jolly with too much confidence given his girth.  Two average lads, that looked like two thirds of the male population hanging on the fatties every word and the token handsome shy one standing at the back clearly embarrassed by his friends loudness .

Given the 3 hour flight, and the fact Greece is 2 hours ahead, it was coming on 3 in the morning.  All we wanted was our beds but first we would have to get our bags. Why do these shitty airports never have the luggage carousels labeled? It was fucking mayhem, 3 London flights all within 20 minutes of each other and 2 Manchester flights all at the same time running from carousel to carousel to try and find there Primark butterfly bag.  After this ordeal, we located transport and boarded the bus of doom for the commute to the hotel. 30 minutes later the bus has not moved. Myself and Sinéad were far to tired to talk. Sinéad turns to me ‘I do not care about anything anymore so long as that group of lads do not get on this bus’. On queue ‘ OH OHHHHHHH... what we have here then??? LOVELY JUBBLY!!!!!!’. i didn’t even have the energy to say anything so i simply turned to her and laughed in and around her face. In the end the boys were worth the wait as they gave us  some truly golden lines as ‘I hear the drink is so cheap here, its basically free’. or ‘Hey, the bus driver said he dropped off loads of crumpet earlier today’. ( i gathered  this means ladies). 

2 hours later we arrived at what we thought was our destination. ‘You go down the left and your hotel Cavo Doro is right there’. Right so lets head down the left, shit what the fuck is this, a creepy abandoned club called Heaven? completed with upheaved dumpster? i know our hotel was cheap but fuck me. Turns our the fecking idiot gave us the wrong direction we traced back, and turned right and low and behold at 5:30 am we had reached our destination - Cavo Doro right on the beach and this bitch didn’t look half bad. No reception, no one working in the hotel at this time at night besides some random guy at the pool bar. Oh great. after 20 minutes of him going back and forth, we finally got a room with a word of ‘ come down tomorrow morning to check in’. 

Pool side let the music play


After checking in early that morning with ‘Spiros’ our over friendly bar man / hotel manager / receptionist / owner. ( He gave me the over friendly name of ‘Sexy Boy’ which he continued to call me until the day we left). We got ready to eat and lay by the pool.  After a quick breakfast 2:80 euro for a english breakfast ( as Sinéad said, how is it that cheap? What condition are these pigs kept in?’) we gathered our sunblock, towels and books and headed for the pool. Pool side was just perfect. Many sun lounges that were not the crappy white plastic, but cabana style with lockers to rest your drinks on the side.  One catch you had to buy a fecking drink to sunbath there.  Didn’t matter as it was day one and we were feeling flush with cash - cocktails etc where in order.  As the days rolled on, it was starting to grate a little, when you could see them charging you 3 euro for a coke they were pouring from a 2ltr bottle. If thats not a fucking extortionist economies of scale i don't know what is.  Why didn’t you go to the beach and avoid this cost you say? I hear you. But to be honest the pool was clean it was nice to lounge about reading there, and also on the first day we walked the beach and saw a man sun bathing in a thong. enough said. 

Pool side


As the pool was a pool bar. The light breeze, sound of bubbling water from the pool, slight ripple and crash of the waves from the near by beach couldn’t litter the airwaves for long.  They started to play music through there speaker system which was extensive. To start the vibe, they played the most annoyingly calm chill out dance music ‘ CELEBRATION.... CELEBRATION.. STAR LIGHT.... STAR LIGHT.’ Luckily this sort is easily drowned out. In the afternoon they change up the tempo to a more modern twist with the summers hits playing one after the other. This sounds great doesn’t it? Nope, each song would be played at lest 10 times.  There are some songs fucking ruined for life for me. Even if i had my headphones on, in a preventive measure, i had Sinéad not happy she was suffering though it alone poking me to alert me to the beautiful words ‘LIKE THE LEGEND OF THE PHOENIX’. This along with many other hits and not so much hits, are now part of a band from my ear drums list i shall now share with you. 

Top Ten Hate List


  1. Daft Punk Feat: Pharrell Williams - Get Lucky
  2. Robin Thick - Blurred Lines
  3. Pitt Bull Feat Christina Aguilera - Feel this moment
  4. Faydee - Laugh Till you Cry (look better with your make up on)
  5. Energy Deejays - Gravity
  6. Will.i.am Feat: Justin Bieber - Power
  7. Macklemore - Thrift Shop
  8. Kid Kuddi - Pursuit of Happiness
  9. Avicii - Wake me up
  10. Macklemore - Cant hold us
At pool side - probably listening to 'Get Lucky'


Party all day and all night


Remember earlier i mentioned it was a party destination, lads and ladies holiday location? Well as our hotel was located on the strip this music torture did not stop there, oh no the party carried on til 5:30 each morning. Around 3:30 each morning, i awoken to these songs being blasted at  ridiculous levels with the the usual ‘ OH OH OHHHHHHH’ over and over again.  But thats ok, come 5:35 it shuts down and you can get some shut eye. Wake up at 10:00 head to the pool and you can start the whole day again with the sounds of  CELEBRATION.... STAR LIGHT.... uggggg. 

And a Fish Bowl


Given it was Kavos there was a strip full of the finest pubs and clubs come strip clubs that you could find this side of corfu. Theres a reason for that, there all shit and full of sluts.  There were some gems with in-genius names such as - ‘The Rolling Stones’ ( which actually had a stone on a stick that rolled out side its door). The next best pub had to be the Crash Bar - Name after that video game we all loved on the playstation 1 - Crash Bandicoot - yes thats right, Kavos has a bar dedicated to this.  When we arrived on the bus from the airport through the strip ( while locals banged the bus with there hands to welcome / terrify everyone) we noticed a KFC oh thank god some food we can count on... upon day light inspection it is actually ‘Kavos Fried Chicken’ the cleaver fuckers. 

As it was strip, the place was littered with the usual. Over friendly bar reps outside each establishment. Or PR staff as someone tried to call it ( They were over reaching with that title so much they were given them selfs a reach around).  Have you ever tried to battle your way through a street of these people when your starving and just want your fucking garlic bread?  ‘Ello guys how are you tonight? Having a good time? Looking for some food?’ - what is it about these people that can drive you away from a place? Seriously. Sinéad and Myself would of settled on a restaurant before stepping outside the door only to walk right passed it cause ‘Ollie over-friendly wouldn’t fuck off’. 

For some weird reason you grow accustom to this after 1 day and find yourself making them work for it. ‘Those bastards didn’t even approach us’. ‘No fucking way im having steak in the ‘Sizzle Texas Steak House’ tonight now the feckers’.  This was just for dinner. 

For a drink, it becomes a whole new game, with a fish bowl being there ace card.  ‘Ello lads, i tell you what i can do, i can get you two drinks, a vodka or a beer with a dash, 4 shots and fish bowl... all for fiver ALL FOR A FIVER’. Why is it always a fish bowl on offer? Do i look like i want to drink 7up with loads of ice and too many straws?  In sober eyes these people are stupid annoying and there tactics to get you in, ridiculous, we had one guy actually look like he was going to cry cause we didn’t fancy a Chinese ‘ BUT ITS MY LAST DAY TOMORROW’.... eh so what i still don't fucking fancy a Chinese, especially as the restaurant you represent is called the Chinese / Indian house.  Trying to please everyone i guess but ended up pleasing no one kind of place. 

Note the 3 sizes of fish bowls


When drunk i seem to completely do a 360 on these people. They become gods, who are selflessly trying to get me as much alcohol as possible to consume under the lest amount of strain on my wallet. Pissed i will listen carefully to there chattering on about fish bowls nod encouragingly and say things like ‘thats such a good deal, lets go in to ‘Dickeys Bar’ and have these beverages you mentioned immediately’. 

Just like with dinner. If they don't approach me i wont enter the bar, they have to work for my money. There is no way in hell i would ever turn away from a bar at home cause i wasn’t over enthusiastically welcomed into the bar by some jumped up cocaine head on his 5th year doing rep-ping. 

On one of the nights were i think myself and Sinéad can agree we got the most notable drunk, we frequented many of the above criticized bars.  Of course this was bound to end up in a bad way, The parts i will mention (to keep some dignity) is getting a heady back off a girl going up and down the strip, becoming best friends with two americans  and making life long plans to stay in touch and in the end popping up in the middle of foam to scare people at a foam party - enough said was time to go home at that stage.  After this epic night, it was safe to say that we avoided much of the strip to avoid the jarring images of the previous nights events and of course the people, mostly to avoid the people. 


On our last day, we needed to sort out what time we could check out, ( as the bus was not collecting us until 10:30 we had some major time to kill) - Lucky for us, they seemed to see us coming.  The cleaner / cook / pool cleaner / child minder / mother of owner - came up to us as we approach. This is what our conversation (first ever conversation with this woman)  went.

‘ yes you leave today? what time what time?’. 

‘ Oh ya yes we are being collected at 10:30 tonight’.

‘Tonight, so late, you stay longer you stay longer’.

‘Ya that is what we wanted to ask, what time do we check out?’

‘Stay longer, you pay you pay... yes you pay’.

‘Ok how much?’. 

‘Yes you pay, 20 euro and you stay until half 9’. 

They never missed an opportunity to take more money off us.  I was surprised she didn’t just take me by the legs hang me upside down and shake until all my money came out. Bare in mind this lady pretended she couldn’t speak english up until we asked about a late check out, suddenly old lady wants her palm greased. I should of given her a peace of my mind, or the calculations me and Sinéad had made about the money we spent at the bar. The profits were sky high i tell you that much.

Each one of these places has the usual souvenirs. Why do hot countries like spain, greece and the likes always have lots of willy shape ones? One thing i have to mentioned was the various T-shirts they had - Kavos Go hard or go home. Standard. But my favourites were the following;

1) - Keep calm and finger my pussy
2) - Keep calm and eat me pussy
3) - Keep calm and slut it up
4) - Keep calm and shag my arse

Very classy Kavos.

One thing about a package holiday is you are sure to see the people who flew over with you on the flight home. We were lucky enough to see the lads from the bus while checking in. All in all they seemed to have made it through the week, the fatter one did have a doctors note regarding a abscess on his bum, which meant he could only sit down during take off and landing. I don't even want to know were that came from.  Given the flight was at 3:50 in the morning, i was wrecked by take off, and completely tricked into a purchase i will never let down. The Monarch airline sleep kit. I was looking longingly at all those sleeping with those neck pillows and myself and Sinéad decided to take the plunge. They don’t do a fucking thing - i spent the entire flight my head bobbing from side to side with little to no sleep. The luxury blanket that came with it, seemed to be see-through. the only thing that seemed to be any good was the sleeping mask, which i shamelessly will admit actually works wonders to get a good nights sleep and i may or may not ( non of your business) being using in the future to get some sleep.  

Until next post.  Laters.

Popular posts from this blog

Tap Tap

Spinach

Wrong Number