Life in the Heat

 It's hot today.  Very hot.  It was hot yesterday and it will be extremely hot till July 21st and possibly even later in the month.  We learn to live with it, live without aircondition as much as possible and survive.  This too shall pass.

Nights so far have been bearable with open windows, mosquito screens, and a fan.  We sit out on the balcony at night watching TV, greek 'Who Wants to be a Millionaire' till 10pm and possibly a film or European athletic matches.  We have a fan out on the balcony as well but it blows warm air till around 10.30 when finally it seems to get a tad cooler.

I drink litres of homemade sugarfree icetea and K drinks water by the gallon, along with his wine and raki.

Aircondition has to be turned on for the afternoon siesta.   By midday the house, inside and out, is a furnace.  We keep cool from around 2 till 5, inside our one cooled down room and then go down to the beach till 8 or 9.  The only way to cool down a body is to dip it in the sea.  Even if the sea is warm, as it is now, it brings relief.  The core temperature of the body is lowered considerably and we once again feel like human beings.  We are lucky living on an island near the sea.

Tomorrow there will be a power cut from 9am till 2pm so we will have to change our routine.  I'll have to get up a little earlier, water the garden, tidy the house, which is of course full of dust.  We don't close windows even if we are going out shopping or down to the beach.  I doubt if anyone has the energy to burgle us at the moment.  We lock the doors and leave the windows and shutters open with flimsy fly screens.  It's a joke really.

Tomorrow I'll make a couple of flasks of coffee and put them in the chilly bin (cooler) along with a bottle of water, a couple of beers for K and some ice packs, and we'll head to the beach.  I suppose he'll want a sandwich too.  I can manage that but not much else

Our spot under the trees.  

I sit and read.  

K finds a local to talk with.  He learns all the gossip and tells quite a bit of his own.  I wonder if the others embellish as much as he does.  He loves story telling.

I keep my nose in my book and mutter 'yes, of course dear, that's the way it was', trying not to roll my eyes, when I'm asked for confirmation.

Sometimes a group of be-hatted friends stand out in the sea for hours, feet just touching bottom,  discussing fishing and the navy and heaven knows what. 

 I can hear the murmur of voices, the bleating of goats amongst the pine trees on the rocky slopes opposite and laughter echoing from the yachts anchored in the Bay. 

Blessed peace.

So far no noisy quad bikes. 

Touch wood. 

And only happily splashing young children. 

I swim when I arrive, do a slow breaststroke across the bay and back. Then I spend the rest of the time drying out. I hate sitting in wet togs but there's no where to change.

I hang my towel on a branch of the tree hanging out over the water. It's amazing how fast it dries. Togs (bathers, swimsuit) take longer. 

We come home a little tired. I'm sleeping much better lately despite the heat.