Digital Wanderer

We live as long as we fly

Crete — 4, Hotel

I probably should tell you about the hotel with the proud name Hydramis Palace. The tour operator advertised it as a 5-star, but obviously, it's actually considered a 4+. By the way, the hotel is named after an ancient city.

In general, all these stars are a confusing thing. Wikipedia enlightens us that there usually isn't even a unified rating system within a single country, let alone an international one. So figuring out how many stars there actually are, and whether there's any real use for them, isn't easy. Like, a five-star hotel must always have a doctor, a hairdresser, and all that stuff — but what use is that to me? For instance, ours had a gym — but I didn't see a single person in there once. It makes sense: who in their right mind on vacation, and in such heat on top of that, is going to pump iron and run around when you could just take a dip in the sea?

In any case, it's better to check reviews on the internet, which, by the way, we did. The reviews were generally positive, but there were few of them and not in English. I must say that the hotel consists of several buildings, and along the perimeter runs a pedestrian path planted with trees and bushes on all sides. Overall, there's a lot of vegetation in the hotel, which is great — it's pleasant and creates an atmosphere of rest and relaxation, just like in the movies. On the official site you can check out lots of pics and even 3D panoramas if you need that for some reason, but I'll throw some in too, just in case. So, first things first, we walked down to the beach, and it threw me into a mild stupor. Basically, a classic case of elvism. After all, Tanya had warned us that the northern coast of Crete, where most hotels are located, isn't exactly famous for beautiful beaches; the sand looks gray, the beach strip is narrow, and there are rocks on the shore. They say it's so it doesn't erode. But our initial scare quickly passed — eventually, we can see pretty little sand in Jūrmala too, and Crete has plenty of its own interesting stuff, including inside the hotel.

A squinting man on a pebble beach points his hand toward a mountainous island on the horizon.

Read more →

Crete — 3, Checking into the hotel

So, we were at the hotel by around seven in the morning. The first thing we did was go to the front desk to register. We were handed a form and, for some reason, a red ballpoint pen, and a "leaky" one at that.

What immediately impressed us and practically knocked us off our feet was the porter. I don't know, maybe it's more correct to say "duty manager" or "reception clerk". For some reason, the word "porter" is either unknown to people or has a negative connotation. Since I don't know what a connotation is, I'd better say "nuance" so as not to get into a *prosak*. By the way, oddly enough, I actually know what a *prosak* is. It is not at all a loanword from the English PROZAC, although the meaning fits. After all, Prozac is an  antidepressant, and to get into Prozac, therefore, means "getting into the funny farm". In a way, this kind of wordplay reminds me of the work of writer Sorokin with his book "Blue Lard" — there were plenty of various *laowais* there too. But here is what a *prosak* actually is:

Read more →

Хм, вот вопрос. Читать ли блоги персонажей, мысли которых, хоть и яркие и интересные, вызы

Хм, вот вопрос.

Читать ли блоги персонажей, мысли которых, хоть и яркие и интересные, вызывают резкое неприятие потому, что персонажи эти перегибают палку в демонстрировании худших качеств человеческой натуры. Я вообще достаточно терпеливый и не брезгливый, когда дело касается печатных слов и разжигания всяческих провокативных точек зрения. Но эти персонажи, они чересчур увлекаются тем, что можно назвать аналогом жёлтой прессы. Только вот бульварные газеты потакают зависти, ленности и унынию, а эти деятели – гордыне и гневу.

Read more →

Crete — 2, Arrival

Um, forgot to mention: the inflight dinner didn't have that ferocious taste of MSG, unlike the American inflight breakfast. (I'd have to think about whether I'm confusing dinner and breakfast here, but in these flights the devil himself would break a leg.) The only similarity was the Coca-Cola, which I call liquid evil, and I've already gotten everyone at work used to it. That's exactly how I say it: “Splash me some blAck evil!”

We didn't fly for long — about three hours, probably. I have to say that the evil Andryukha took my window seat, and during takeoff he enjoyed the view of Riga, and during arrival — Heraklion. Then I discovered that my Sony Reader, which I was planning to use as an MP3 player too, wasn't reading the memory card. There was nothing left to do but close my eyes, but that didn't help me fall asleep — my back and neck simply despise airplane seats way too much. So Andryukha and I chatted a bit about students stealing ashtrays en masse from cafes. I don't remember why the topic came up, but either way, kids, it's not nice to swipe ashtrays, just so you know. Swiping stuff in general is not nice, and what exactly you swipe isn't all that important.

Read more →