I couldn't wait to return. I think I booked my return ticket before I unpacked my suitcase! I decided to go for 10 days this time. I now understood what was needed and I scoured charity shops for clothing bargains, men's shirts and trousers, women's long sleeved tops and dresses, winter coats, scarves and gloves - and shoes. Lots of shoes. I washed all the clothing. The sale rack in Primark yielded some lovely children's clothes for £1 each as they cleared out the end of summer goods. Poundland was a rich source for bags of razor blades. I had to stop myself when I found I'd filled two suitcases and hadn't allowed any room for my own clothes.
As word went round that I was going back, people were beginning to ask me how they could help, so I opened an on line account to gather funds to take with me. I was amazed at the generosity shown and soon had a good amount to take with me.
The day of departure finally arrived. There was no sign of the travel nerves that had plagued me for the last 3 years. This time, getting on that plane was just the easiest thing to do.
I had been on Facebook again looking for other people going to Kos, and met Julie and Janice, at Gatwick, on their first trip.
I had also seen posts from two women who had already been there. After reading their posts about their time so far on the islands, I thought they looked a bit terrifyingly good; Carrie and Charmaine.
Carrie was an emergency nurse from Wales. She answered my Facebook questions in a brisk and saltily humorous manner. I immediately liked her.
Charmaine, on the other hand, seemed rather intimidating. This Canadian woman had rescued people from the sea round the islands, gone to Athens to follow the refugee route on buses and trains from there onwards into the Balkans. She was now back in Kos. Surely she must be a serious 6' tall Amazon with a steely glint to her eye and the stamina of the Energiser rabbit. I didn't think we would have much common ground. For one thing, I'd never be able to keep up with her.
I met Carrie in Athens airport, where we all got the same plane to Kos. She was just as I had imagined her to be, friendly and straight forward. When we arrived in Kos she left with a friend who met her there, Lilian, and told us she would be staying at a hotel where she was getting a special volunteer rate of only 18 euros a night, organised for her by Lilian. The hotel sounded rather nice. It had just been refurbished and had power showers, heating and sea views from the individual balconies. I do like a sea view. And I really like heating and a power shower.
However, Julie, Janice and I were destined for the Hotel Oscar, which was offering an even better rate of 10 euros a night, again for volunteers. These generous rates were offered because it was out of season, and the hotels were happy to help both volunteers and refugees, while filling unoccupied rooms and keeping staff busy.
Ah, how to describe Hotel Oscar! It was the Grand Old Dame of Kos, a big hotel, taking up a large part of the city block, and was obviously once a glamourous and sophisticated venue. The marbled and mirrored lobby was still quite magnificent, and everywhere was spotlessly clean. But age had taken its toll. The elevators no longer worked. The paint was chipped and curled. The plumbing was fitful and the electrics had a mind of their own.
But. It was only 10 euros a night.
We checked in.
After the struggle up the stairs with all my luggage, I was rewarded with a magnificent view across Kos and I sat on the balcony of my top floor room happily watching a fabulous sunset burn its way across the horizon. I actually had two rooms; a bedroom and a lounge with a small kitchen. Just as well I did, as only one door locked. The other door only closed if seriously slammed shut, causing lumps of plaster to fall from round the frame. There were gaps where I could actually see out into the hallway. It didn't feel very secure.
But at 10 euros a night- I was staying.
After checking into our rooms Julie, Janice and I had agreed to meet and find somewhere to eat. As we walked along the corridor, joking about the state of the hotel, a door flew open and a tiny blonde hurricane shot into the corridor, excitedly saying 'I hear English voices!'
It was Charmaine. She was nothing like I'd imagined. She was warm and friendly and completely delighted to have some English speaking company.
Sadly, none of us stayed long at the Oscar. After two days of jamming furniture against the disintegrating door frame and shivering under the cold shower, when I plugged in my charger and a blue flame shot out I decided it was time to leave. It would be worth an extra 8 euros a day for a warm shower alone.
Stealthily, and it must be said, a little guiltily, I said goodbye to the lovely women who ran the front desk and decamped to the same hotel as Carrie. Charmaine followed a day later and Janice and Julie left a few days after that.
This was the beginning of my second time in Kos.
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