All inclusive: Summer camp for adults

 

Last week I was on my first ever all inclusive, mother rehabilitation holiday.  

 

Neither of us had done all inclusive before - half board once or twice when me and my brother were kids - but no all inclusive.  

We didn't really know what to expect.  


We didn't expect the wristbands...


(And to be honest I think it's best I don't discuss our feelings about them here. Let's just say they were ripped off with glee at the airport, but they still leave their white lined scars. )

 

What I didn't expect was to actually like it as much as I did.

I'm all about freedom, wondering and no routine... but I'm also all about summer camp and places like centre parks.


And what I realised pretty soon was that all inclusive is like camp for adults. 


 

I mean the campers were mainly over 60 and camp activities were run by overly enthusiastic kids; Which made for beach grumblings in various languages and aqua aerobics classes mainly made up of folks too senile to know what was going on. But nevertheless, it was a little bubble of people seemingly in good spirits. 

And it was kind of contagious. Just like summer camp- ridiculous, but contagious. 

There's something pretty adorable about watching a group of wasted 60yr old retired hippies dancing to some god awful hired in band for evening entertainment. 

I mean it is summer camp. It is a place where they can do that... a safe, caring environment where you can let your crazy out and still get fed the next morning. 


And I support that kind of thing. 

The - all inclusiveness of it....

Get it?

Sorry. 


Me and the mother didn't quite commit to camp life.

We drank their alcohol but not their Kool aid, so to speak. 

We didn't participate in these evening, or daytime, activities. We just sat on our balcony and let the sounds of the IL Divo band from Russia, or the circus performers from the mainland, drift up as we sipped bottomless Prosecco. 

We did have to get out and about.  

We had two full days in Corfu Town and spent every night in Gouvia drinking un-watered down alcohol. (I suspect the hotel alcohol wasn't 100% legit as it didn't even have a effect on my practically teetotal Mother) But coming home to the antics of the oldies in the hotel bar was a real sight and definitely made me think more favourably on the whole concept. 

Just because it wasn't our kind of camp, it doesn't mean we weren't supportive of others living it up.  

We were more day visitors and not full-on committed happy campers, that is true. But, I must say, it was nice after all these years to return to a place that is just a little bubble away from the world, where you can dance and sing and engage in cringe-worthy aqua aerobics should you wish. 

These kinds of places should be celebrated. 

 

Jess x