Museum Hotel George Molfetas

I woke up later than intended, to discover that my laptop had been in direct sunlight out on the veranda and was absolutely cooked. I haven’t dared to switch it on yet, I just put it in my bag. I’m willing to believe that all the circuitry has fused together in there. Bright bright wonderful summer sunlight. I folded up all my dried clothes and repacked. I very nearly took a large female cricket with me. She made me jump out of my skin when I picked up one of my shirts. I’m not used to fast moving creatures of that size. She didn’t seem particularly bothered by me though. She just watched me as I repacked my bag.

Twenty minute drive to breakfast in Argostoli, and an hour or so of wandering to follow. It seems that The Bay of Argostoli plays host to some sea turtles. I was surprised and pleased to see them bobbing around in the placid waters. Little shoals of fish and turtles. A good sign.

2pm happened quickly and I knew I could check in to our hotel for this evening – Museum Hotel George Molfetas – a beautiful and considered labour of love. I arrived and found myself surrounded by weird old antique things and bits of fabric and costume and hats and wood. The last month has mostly been IKEA. The experience of something more like home went right into me and I fell asleep in the middle of the afternoon more or less as soon as I entered the bedroom. It’s only their little room, but it’s still gorgeous and comfortable and homely.

Lou landed at 7pm, by which time I was awake again and picked her up from the airport Extreme-E style. We came back and she loves it here as well. A beautiful shared home.

I’m lying on the sofa now with my feet on the radiatior. It’s dark outside. Lou is sleeping behind me. Beyond the mosquito screen in the window I can hear the night time sounds of the island. A dog is barking. Occasionally an engine. Gusts of night time wind. But mostly peace.

Katerina bought this place, the former residence of the poet George Molfetas, and she transformed it into a very special small hotel. It’s all handmade and considered – her labour of love. The old stuff is old and beautiful, but the modern bits are well judged and blend with them. We have a state of the art aircon unit on the wall that doesn’t look out of place and isn’t particularly loud. There’s a little old friendly dog, there’s all sorts of art and pottery everywhere, considerately placed. I’m very happy here. A chance to properly unwind. Even just for one night.

Author: albarclay

This blog is a work of creative writing. Do not mistake it for truth. All opinions are mine and not that of my numerous employers.

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