A Day at the Beach.....

A day at the beach is an experience. A week at the beach is captivating, drawing you in to a mesmerizing state of mind. You become apathetic to the rest of the world. The news only comes in one language on our local TV. but no worries.... we are at the beach. The rest of the world can take care of any major concerns. The rhythmic, pulsating beat of the water mixed with the suns reflective glare off the sand, creates somewhat of a euphoria, as the heat rises in a mirage of waves. Energy levels drops to a -3 and the present moment is all that matters. After lounging for a bit under a big blue umbrella enjoying the sea breeze and watching little children splashing and playing, their bathing suits dripping with a mixture of sand and water, you decide to exert a little energy. Wading in, you take your steps slowly, your skin conditions itself to the contrasting temperature of the water, which is so clear you can see the sand treads beneath your feet, and little fish flitting about with their friends. Finally, you have the choice to either take the plunge and dive in, or bend your knees and ever-so-slowly, lower yourself in. Aaaah... Determining that it is time to actually make your body work for its food, you begin to tread water and start to swim. But wait, if you just pick up your legs and sit back, the sea actually cradles you in a blanket of salt, and you just let the waves rock you gentle back and forth, up and down. After about 20 minutes it is time to return to the lounger and take a rest. Everything feels like it is in slow-motion. Even the frisbee seems to lag in the air before dropping. Telly, Elias and Alexander thoroughly enjoy the experience. They move a little faster than the adults but by mid-afternoon, when the sun bakes the hottest, they retreat to the cool sand under the big umbrella. They begin digging, building tiny mounds of castles and filling their buckets. Repeatedly pouring sand over their little legs, they stare at it as if in a trance, the gritty crystals sliding off like waterfalls. As I begin to read my novel for the 80th time, my eyelids become too heavy and I find myself drifting in and out of consciousness.

I have determined that the sea must emit some kind of sleeping gas. It has no desire to be disturbed from its undulating power, so it overpowers everything; the land, the vegetation. The mountains surrounding it can't even gain clarity from its powerful haze. The days here aren't long, but they aren't short either. After a day at the beach we slowly drag ourselves home to shower. Water is a commodity. Most of it comes from wells that fill the reserve tanks up by morning. But by mid-afternoon they are running on empty. Showers are short and sweet. Dinnertime is usually spent finding a nice restaurant with a sea view. Our appetites have not been big unless forced by others. The traditional Greek salad and bread has become our appetizer, with portions of "baked chicken in oven" or lamb or goat, or souvlaki, the main course. The wine is served in small or large pitchers, and the beer in bottles. Usually, the water is purchased in litre bottles and placed on the tables to share. There are a few choices for water. You may order "still", "with gas", or "tonic". The tables typically have linen table clothes but there is a standard plastic-backed paper table topper that is clipped on when you sit down to order. This same table topper with the map of Greece printed in Aegean blue ink has been used in every restaurant where we have been. I'm guessing the person that invented and manufactured these is a very wealthy man. He doubled his money if he also sells the clips that secure it in place. Bread is served in a basket with every meal. Before eating, you must remove the napkins and silverware from underneath. I'm not sure if the service is slow by nature, or if our relaxed body language is telling them that we are in absolutely no hurry whatsoever, so don't worry about us until you absolutely have to. Dinner usually takes about 2 hours from start to finish. We are pretty good with the boys if they have the freedom to run around and chase the stray kittens that hang out around the tables, and we separate them in the seating chart. After a day of sun and fun and full tummies, there is a fine line of how far you can push their patience. If you cross the line, there is no turning back. After the boys are visiting the other Mr. Sand man, card games on the veranda or World Cup playoff games close out the entertainment for the day.

All the bedrooms have sliding glass doors that are left open through the night. The first several nights we were able to experience the full moon peering in through the screen door. We fell asleep easily with the comfort of the bed and fresh air blowing in. We were then suddenly awakened to the sound of dogs barking in the distance, birds flying in and out of the eaves, bats squeaking and some strange animal that we determined to be a jackal. They make a high pitched yelping noise that I would compare to a Tom cat's mating call mixed in with the cry of a baby in distress. After realizing we were safe in our surroundings, we slowly fell back to sleep, only to be awakened by the roosters crowing, then Eeyore braying -- which is far louder than one would think, and the very annoying advertising coming from a megaphone attached to a mini pickup truck blaring out repeatedly in a loud non-emotional baratone voice: "tomatoes, potatoes, domathes" .... a slur of other items... "Eho" (I have). The noise bounces off the hillside and into your ears. Apparently there is a franchise of these little cars driving around all of Greece. I can just picture the driver in his blue Greek fisherman's hat and heavy mustache laughing, as he blasts people out of a deep sleep. Oddly enough we have adjusted to the noises as the continuing effects of the sea's control, accompanied with the bright constellations displayed in the night sky, as clear as if you were in a planetarium, puts us into a deep deep sleep. As I sit on the veranda at Kibotos, overlooking the massive body of water spread out in front of me, I think of life back home. We are definitelybecoming homesick and ready to move on with our journey. There is only so much mind-controlling relaxation a person is able to experience. I have come to the conclusion that vacationing is a practiced art, and I consider this my first lesson.