The Journey – Destination Florina

Yes, the journey. Having made it to my first destination of the trip, I can look back and say that it was quite the journey. Had I not been recovering from a nasty virus I could have easily taken this in my stride but in hindsight, I should have broken this journey up. At this point, I should say that my blog has never been intended to be a travel guide. There are a million and one websites out there that can tell you ‘almost’ everything that you want to know about a place. Nor does it intend to paint a false narrative that all travel is a bed of roses. It isn’t. Through my travel diary, I aim to write honestly about my experiences and how I deal with issues when they arise, especially as a woman (of a certain age) and while travelling solo. So hopefully without it reading like a moan-fest about my woes – here goes.

It started with a 0400 alarm call. By 0430, I was on my way to the airport with Son No 2, who’d kindly got up at this god-forsaken hour to drive me. Surprisingly, Manchester Airport was busy with people heading off for some winter sun to places such as Tenerife and Fuerteventura. Who could blame them? Although I didn’t have an appetite I bought an almond croissant for later.

The flight was non-eventful. As usual, there was someone on board with a severe nut allergy so I stuffed the almond croissant to the bottom of my bag in case they were in close proximity. I wouldn’t like to be responsible for sending someone into anaphylactic shock mid-flight. With a thick layer of cloud cover for most of the journey, there wasn’t anything of interest to see except the peaks of the snow-capped Alps. We made our descent into a slightly brighter Athens flying over Evia, Glyfada and once past the quarry, it’s only a matter of minutes before landing.

Easyjet as usual, had parked at one of the far-flung gates which meant having to walk a fair distance to get to luggage reclaim. After retrieving my luggage I headed up one floor to domestic departures to check my bag in for my flight to Thessaloniki.

I had a couple of hours to wait so I found a quiet cafe for a cup of tea. TBH at this stage I was beginning to feel a bit ropey. Although I’d begun to make a good recovery from the virus over the previous few days, the early morning start had set me back somewhat. Plus I was heading to Greece’s coldest town so I had dressed for that eventuality. I was burning up so I removed my jumper not caring that the yellow and grey striped top underneath clashed terribly with my navy and orange abstract skirt. I hadn’t planned ahead.

I still didn’t feel great so I went to the nearest WC to freshen up. I passed the smoking cabin which was crammed with people sucking as much nicotine into their systems as they could. It’s hard to imagine back to the time when I smoked. It now seems like a very archaic and alien activity. There was leakage. Not from me may I add. As I walked past the cabin the smell of nicotine was seeping through. It made me feel decidedly green around the gills. Once in the ladies rest room, I looked in the mirror and wondered who the hell was looking back at me. I was ashen. I splashed cold water on my face to bring my body temperature down a few notches which certainly helped.

Thankfully by the time I had to go through security, I’d got my second wind and felt a bit more lively. This was another busy flight but we boarded onto a very modern A320neo. It made a rapid ascent and within minutes we were over Evia and the Sporades and then into a thick layer of cloud again. No sooner had we taken off, than we began to make our descent into Thessaloniki. Had it been in-season I’d have been able to get a direct flight to Thessaloniki but such is winter travel – two flights it was.

Luggage reclaim seemed to take an eternity but I’d built in enough time between each leg of the journey to allow for any delays. Once outside arrivals I went to the front of a long queue of taxis and asked to be taken to the Intercity bus station. I find with taxi drivers that it pays to look as though you’re familiar with a place. Show no weakness! Unfortunately, there are still some unscrupulous taxi drivers in the city willing to take advantage of visitors. Although it’s many years since I’ve been to Thessaloniki, I managed to slap on an air of confidence and made out as though I knew the city like the back of my hand.

There are two main routes from the airport to the bus station. A shorter one that goes through the city and another longer but faster route that by-passes the city. I knew we were taking the latter but although it was an additional 12 kilometres in distance it didn’t add to the time of around 35 minutes. It was a bit of a hair-raising journey to be honest. The driver who had a bit of the Stanley Tucci’s about him (and was probably the same age), had a penchant for rock music. The awful 1970’s American rock only seemed to compel him to drive faster as if living a moment from an equally awful 1970’s action movie. At times we touched 120 KPH. He even joked that he could see I didn’t like his driving but at least he had good taste in music. Well, I’ll be the judge of that! I’ve always been an R&B gal myself.

I made it to the bus station in one piece. He told me it was 38€ for the journey which is what I’d expected. I hadn’t brought any cash with me so asked if I could pay by card. Of course, all taxi drivers must offer this option by law but he said when he takes payment in other currencies his bank adds a charge so could I give him a tip of around 2€ to account for this. I always tip and chucked another 5€ on top of his requested charge. As he lifted my bag out of the back of the car he gave me some advice. He pointed out a couple of dodgy characters lurking outside and told me to keep my phone and wallet safe and not to talk to them. As he said that, one of the men approached us and I assumed was asking for money. Stanely Tucci got rid of him whilst I headed straight into the bus station.

The first counter on the right was the one that sold tickets to Florina. The ticket cost 17€. The bus service has two different routes to Florina. One goes via Edessa and this one that goes via Veria. The latter is the longer route and takes about 2.5 hours but at least I’ve been able to make the connection. This was the last departure of the day and although I had over an hour to wait, I was thankful that the travel plans had worked out well. BTW there are also trains from Thessaloniki to Florina but the timings didn’t work with my itinerary.

The cafe was full so I decided to find the stand for the Florina bus and wait there. The bus station is huge, set in a large domed building. Although it’s completely soulless, I was intrigued by the vast amount of destinations that could be accessed from here. From where I was sitting I could see signs for Asprovalta, Piraeus, Chalkida, Xanthi, Tirana, Kalamata, Preveza, Arta, Athens and Piraeus. And that’s not accounting for the many other signs around the bus station that I couldn’t see. This is what whets my appetite for travel. Although I work in travel, I don’t spend hours pouring over books or trawling websites looking for inspiration for places to visit. Sometimes just seeing the name of a place makes me curious about it. I don’t care about visiting a place that has a raft of tourist attractions. Sometimes I just want to know what a place and the people are like. Nothing more and nothing less.

Anyway, the hour or so wait at the bus station wasn’t the best. I was approached several times by some of the sorriest-looking people I’d seen all begging for money. One man had a huge chunk of flesh missing from his arm and I couldn’t get him to understand that I didn’t have any cash. I felt terrible.

By the time we came to board the bus exhaustion had fallen upon me again. I loaded my bag onto the undercarriage of the bus and took my seat. I messaged my host to give her my expected time of arrival and settled in for the journey. It’s a shame that it was dark and I couldn’t see any of the landscape we passed. My host messaged me back telling me that I was to pick up the keys from her husband’s takeaway and sent me a pin with its location. Soon after, she sent another message to say that if I was to arrive after 10pm that I was to pick the keys up from the reception of the Lingos Hotel. It seemed simple enough.

I realised that I hadn’t eaten that day and hadn’t actually eaten much of anything for the previous few days. I remembered the almond croissant in the bottom of my bag which was now looking like something you could sole a shoe with. I hoped the little bit of sugar would give me enough energy to see me through. The bus made a few stops along the way and eventually, we arrived in Florina.

After disembarking from the bus I put the takeaway into Google Maps and tried to fathom out which direction to take. I started heading down the hill towards the town and then realised that I’d left my bag on the bus! What the hell! This is how exhausted I was. I ran back up the hill in the hope that the bus hadn’t left. Thankfully, the driver was still unloading the boxes and parcels into the bus station. He’d already offloaded my case and looked rather bemused when I ran through the door looking flustered. I didn’t have the energy to explain but just told him that it had been a long day. I started back down into the town again.

It was now after 10pm so I headed to the Lingos Hotel. I explained to the man on reception that I was staying at the Lucato Apartments and I was told that I could pick up the keys here. He had no idea what I was talking about and asked if I needed a room at the hotel. I cut my losses and went to find the takeaway. Although it looked closed, a young lady was sitting at the back of the shop who confirmed that the keys were there. She put the location of the apartment into Google Maps for me and I just about summoned up enough energy to find it. By then my luggage felt as though I’d stuffed it with lead and my rucksack kept slipping off my shoulder which was becoming very annoying. The entrance at the street level was open and thankfully there was a small lift to take me to the third floor. Once at the apartment, I threw my luggage down and myself into the bed with such relief. After 18 hours of travelling I’d finally made it.