I’m discovering all sorts of stuff about myself and my capacity to deal with life on the high seas. I’ve learned that Aegean sea is an embayment (a new word for me) of the Mediterranean Sea, which is a little confusing. And I’ve gotten my head around the space issue. I don’t like it, but I’m dealing with it. Nightnurse and Ibuprofen PM help with sleep. Menopause. Small spaces. Hot climate. Lots of people. Not a good combination. But I’m getting there. 
It is pretty cool to see the sails up, even if I doubt I’ll ever be fluent in sailing speak. Our skipper has the patience of Job. Others are interested in learning but my complete lack of spatial recognition makes it nigh on impossible for me to get the hang of it. I can do as I’m told when I’m told and so far, dangling with my legs over the side to balance the boat is as much as I can do. I get nervous around raised voices even if rationally I know that they’re needed. With wind, you have to shout to be heard and there are moments of urgency when stuff needs to be done.
We’ve mastered the galley, passing plates and cutlery and such up on deck as it’s too hot to eat below. And we’re eating well. Himself found a great place in the port town of Livadi, run by a couple of older Greek guys who took great pleasure in pointing to the pots they had bubbling in the back kitchen. We ate well on fennel balls, stuffed tomatoes, lamb souvlaki, and fresh shrimp – and for a fraction of what we’d paid in Kolona. Put it on your list if you’re in town – it’s a must. Restaurant Stamatis – it’s about the second last one on the left as you head away from the port.
The first night, we anchored out and dinghyed in. To be able to drop overboard and have a swim is one of the joys of such a holiday. I’m not a strong swimmer but I can tread water and know that sooner or later Marla will swing around in my direction. Failing that, there are plenty of strong swimmers on board who wouldn’t see me sink. The water is remarkably buoyant, which makes floating and treading water effortless.
Our water pump is bust so we stayed another night – this time in the port. To swim, we need to walk around to the beach but being in the port means that I’m independent – I don’t need to wait for someone to ferry me anywhere. I’ve always known that I don’t like being dependent on people. I just hadn’t realised how much I don’t like it. That’s not to say that the engine heads aren’t obliging when it comes to ferrying – they are. The feeling of obligation is on me.
I’m up by 6-ish most mornings as it’s too hot to linger in bed. Our first morning in Livadi, himself ferried a couple of us across the bay to climb the hill up to the monastery.
The islands we’ve seen so far are spotted with white, cubed houses, perched precariously begging the question of why? Yes, the views are amazing, but grocery shopping has to be a nightmare. The trademark blue is everywhere. It’s all very picturesque.
A couple of the others had made the trek the evening before and assured us that if we got as far as the blue-domed church, we wouldn’t have much farther to go. We made it that far but I’d taken enough steps by then to know that I really wasn’t all that curious to see the view from the top – I could just turn my photos upside down. Coming down, we passed a fellah jogging up. Each to their own, I say. Each to their own.
It gets hot here, quickly. The cool morning turned into a hot day five minutes after the sun came up over the horizon. It’s relentless.
Greece rivals Malta when it comes to chapels. They’re everywhere. All sadly locked but the occasional peekable window shows a few chairs, some icons, and a small altar.
We docked (moored?) In berth 110, outside the harbour wall, as there was no space inside. [Mooring fee €7.44.] This meant, of course, that we had no shore power. And with no water, we were at the mercy of our rich neighbours who loaned us their water hose so we could rinse off. Not all harbours have shower and laundry facilities. It seems to be hit and miss so best do your homework. Our replacement water pump is due in from Athens this morning. Until then, there’s little else to do but drink coffee and watch the sun’s reflection on the water. I might even fit in a dip in the sea.
I might also wander through the back streets and see what I can find.
And as we venture out on the sea again, I’ll be keeping an eye out for Cyclops’ chair.
