Day 9 – more beach!

I wake up, like every other day I’ve been here, with a song in my head. I haven’t been listening to any radio, mp3 or whatever, but still, that’s what happens. Today it’s Culture Club’s “Karma Chameleon”, which later switches to “Express Yourself” from Madonna. Seems like my random head radio is having an 80’s day.

We breakfast, lather up in sunscreen and then head to the supermarket to buy a new tube of SPF 20. The BF’s big scrumptious body has used up the old tube. We have a hard time finding one with UVA and UVB protection and that doesn’t use parabens (a potentially cancerous ingredient – the irony! – used in many products as a conservative. I know, I’m a total hippie). But we even managed to find one The BF couldn’t mess up! (he had a hard time with the spray-on, and this one had an easy to keep clean twisty-top). So it’s beach as usual, we rent two sunbeds and an umbrella at River. The BF goes sunbathing, I stay in the shade, switching from reading to swimming.

At one point while we were swimming, I notice this little blue frayed thingy. At first I thought it was a button someone lost at sea, but then we see them everywhere. They’re all around us! And we realize: they’re little blue jellyfish! Now I know jellyfish from Jersey, but over there they’re either big gluey translucent thingies or little red stingy ones. I’m not sure what to make of these, so I prefer to get out of the water.

Once our tummies get grumbly, to decide to make a lunch break. First we need to have a conversation with the people at the tavern. After a rather unsure discussion in broken english, we seem to agree that it’s ok to leave for an hour or two and come back later without having to pay again for the spot. With some uncertainty left, we go back in town and try the clone of the traditional fish tavern. Because there are two of them, and they look exactly alike and even have the same name: Verginia. But they’re both good and cheap. The waiter greets us with a big grin and makes jokes. The door of the WC has a whistling Gizmo stuck to it. This place has humor. Meanwhile, on the huge flat screen TV behind me, Armageddon is going on. We see pictures that seem to convey the end of the world, but it’s all in Greek so we have no idea what’s going on. We keep true to the old british saying: stay calm and carry on.

Later when we return to the beach (no paying again! it worked!), the water is filled with junk. Not only seaweed, but downright garbage. It doesn’t look like I’ll be going back in any time soon. There’s no wind today, which means no waves, which means all the boats come out to play. And leave their dirt behind. We see the private boats going back and forth, the pirates are out as well and we hear people screaming from the banana boats. The BF spots some jet-skis and, all excited, goes to ask how much it would cost: 40 euros for 15 minutes. Ridiculous. Today is too full and too loud for me.

In the evening we take a walk down the street to the other side, right of the hotel. Over the next little bridge is the next little touristy town, with more restaurants, bars and bigger hotels. In the stores they all sell the same kitsch. We look through some of them, pick out some postcards and buy the Cretan cookbook I’ve been eyeing for some time at our local mini market.


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