10.45am
I just popped down the road for some water and a loaf of bread from the wonderful and extremely close-by mini-market and Bakery (two different establishments within metres of one another), both of which service our immediate needs admirably whilst we're here.
Today it's business as usual weather-wise, by which I mean sunshine, blue skies and warmth. Yesterday, however, was awful. There was no other way to describe it. The only complaint I have about Suzanna Studios and Apartments (and it's trivial in the extreme), is that the internet is quite slow. I mention that now, only because I was trying to upload a video taken through our windows yesterday morning, showing how winter had clearly forgotten (at least for one day) that we're supposed to be in the first week of May here. The upload eventually failed after about an hour of trying.
This morning, we'll soon be sitting in the Houston Bar enjoying our coffee, so I'll attempt to upload that video there, because the internet there is blisteringly fast. Then you'll get an idea of what I mean about yesterday. The TV news last night was carrying stories from all over the Aegean of ferries either tied up because they wouldn't dare go anywhere, or of other ferries anchored just outside of tiny island ports, riding out the waves because they couldn't get in to tie up. There were video reports of straw parasols on beaches flying all over the place and the chairs and tables that had been laid out on the beaches for the season were either washed into the sea or hastily gathered up and brought into the buildings for safety. Footage of roads a foot deep in water were plentiful too.
Like I said, it's been a helluva winter (needed, granted) but, judging by yesterday, it doesn't want to let go without a fight.
Anyway, as I set off for the bakery and mini-market in bright sunshine, I was made aware all too quickly of a pain in my lower back, right hand side. I don't feel old, let's get that straight right off the bat. I feel young and trendy (I know, I know, even the use of that word sets me hopelessly out of my time), but my body often reminds me of the old adage that my mother loved to repeat, "old age doesn't come alone."
As I stepped into the mini-market, the very pleasant and personable young chap who runs it bade me kalimera. If I were to try and describe him I'd be describing 90% of all the young 20 or 30-something men in Greece at the moment. Slim-faced, bushy black beard and haircut that shows the scalp through the hair on either side, while remaining thick and bushy on top. Identity parades must be a nightmare for the police nowadays. Chuck in the occasional man-bun or mini-pigtail (both of which always send me rushing for a pair of scissors) and you have all the Greek youth of today described in detail.
Then he asked me "Ti kanete?", to which I replied, while rubbing my lower back, right hand side, "OK, but my back's giving me pain today."
He nodded, slightly diagonally (as all Greeks do) and replied, "it's the igrasia." Now, that's a word you hear a lot of in these islands. They apparently suffer from it incessantly. 'Igrasia' translates as any of the following: moisture, damp, dampness, dewiness, sogginess, humidity - and it gets blamed for virtually everything. I'd be surprised if those two deceased who were on the ferry we came over on hadn't had 'igrasia' written on their death certificates as the cause of death.
You complain about any ache or pain back on Rhodes and your Greek friends will say, sagacity written all over their diagnostic faces, "Ah, yes ...igrasia." I reckon I could probably pass myself off as a local doctor. Each time someone came in to tell me about where it was hurting, I could simply look at them over my glasses and reply, "Hmm, yes. Igrasia's your problem."
To illustrate further. Having made my purchases at the mini-market, I walked the fifty metres or so along the road to the bakery, where the lady knows me well by now. Once again (see previous post) she asked the first time I walked in a couple of days ago (after the usual warm greetings and welcome back and all that stuff), Mavro or polisporo? In case you don't know what those words mean in the context of the bakery, 'mavro' means brown, as in a brown loaf [even though it translates literally as 'black'], and 'polisporo' means 'multi-grain,' as in a brown loaf sprinkled with all kinds of seeds before going into the oven. When I went in there for the first time in 13 months or so, she asked which of the two I'd like. See? What did I tell you in the previous post?
Now, where was I? Oh yes, so, I walked into the bakery on my way back from the mini-market and the lady in there immediately remarked on the fact that I was subconsciously rubbing the small of my back (right hand side).
"You have a problem?" She asked. "Yes, my back's playing me up this morning." I replied. All together now, her reply was [of course] "It's the igrasia."
2.15pm
Well, we've been out for our coffee and essential people-watch at the Houston Café in the plateia and, yes, I was able to upload the video from yesterday. If you haven't already seen it, it's now live on my Facebook "John Manuel - The Published Works" page. You'll get an idea as to why we had coffee in the apartment yesterday. In fact, we didn't venture out until around 8.15pm, when we went straight to Souvlakia Tou Pappou (not three minutes walk from our balcony) and ate there. While I'm on the subject, we ate a veggie pitta each with Haloumi inside, a humungus 'green' salad which was the best 'green' salad we've ever eaten anywhere - period (Yup, now and again the American version works better than the British), and a half-litre of the house white. We were stuffed and the bill was €18.50. We'll be having that green salad again and I'll photograph it to show the waiting world.
Finally, here are a few photos from today. As you'll see, the weather's behaving itself again. I did give it a good dressing down, so maybe that did the trick...
I just popped down the road for some water and a loaf of bread from the wonderful and extremely close-by mini-market and Bakery (two different establishments within metres of one another), both of which service our immediate needs admirably whilst we're here.
Today it's business as usual weather-wise, by which I mean sunshine, blue skies and warmth. Yesterday, however, was awful. There was no other way to describe it. The only complaint I have about Suzanna Studios and Apartments (and it's trivial in the extreme), is that the internet is quite slow. I mention that now, only because I was trying to upload a video taken through our windows yesterday morning, showing how winter had clearly forgotten (at least for one day) that we're supposed to be in the first week of May here. The upload eventually failed after about an hour of trying.
This morning, we'll soon be sitting in the Houston Bar enjoying our coffee, so I'll attempt to upload that video there, because the internet there is blisteringly fast. Then you'll get an idea of what I mean about yesterday. The TV news last night was carrying stories from all over the Aegean of ferries either tied up because they wouldn't dare go anywhere, or of other ferries anchored just outside of tiny island ports, riding out the waves because they couldn't get in to tie up. There were video reports of straw parasols on beaches flying all over the place and the chairs and tables that had been laid out on the beaches for the season were either washed into the sea or hastily gathered up and brought into the buildings for safety. Footage of roads a foot deep in water were plentiful too.
Like I said, it's been a helluva winter (needed, granted) but, judging by yesterday, it doesn't want to let go without a fight.
Anyway, as I set off for the bakery and mini-market in bright sunshine, I was made aware all too quickly of a pain in my lower back, right hand side. I don't feel old, let's get that straight right off the bat. I feel young and trendy (I know, I know, even the use of that word sets me hopelessly out of my time), but my body often reminds me of the old adage that my mother loved to repeat, "old age doesn't come alone."
As I stepped into the mini-market, the very pleasant and personable young chap who runs it bade me kalimera. If I were to try and describe him I'd be describing 90% of all the young 20 or 30-something men in Greece at the moment. Slim-faced, bushy black beard and haircut that shows the scalp through the hair on either side, while remaining thick and bushy on top. Identity parades must be a nightmare for the police nowadays. Chuck in the occasional man-bun or mini-pigtail (both of which always send me rushing for a pair of scissors) and you have all the Greek youth of today described in detail.
Then he asked me "Ti kanete?", to which I replied, while rubbing my lower back, right hand side, "OK, but my back's giving me pain today."
He nodded, slightly diagonally (as all Greeks do) and replied, "it's the igrasia." Now, that's a word you hear a lot of in these islands. They apparently suffer from it incessantly. 'Igrasia' translates as any of the following: moisture, damp, dampness, dewiness, sogginess, humidity - and it gets blamed for virtually everything. I'd be surprised if those two deceased who were on the ferry we came over on hadn't had 'igrasia' written on their death certificates as the cause of death.
You complain about any ache or pain back on Rhodes and your Greek friends will say, sagacity written all over their diagnostic faces, "Ah, yes ...igrasia." I reckon I could probably pass myself off as a local doctor. Each time someone came in to tell me about where it was hurting, I could simply look at them over my glasses and reply, "Hmm, yes. Igrasia's your problem."
To illustrate further. Having made my purchases at the mini-market, I walked the fifty metres or so along the road to the bakery, where the lady knows me well by now. Once again (see previous post) she asked the first time I walked in a couple of days ago (after the usual warm greetings and welcome back and all that stuff), Mavro or polisporo? In case you don't know what those words mean in the context of the bakery, 'mavro' means brown, as in a brown loaf [even though it translates literally as 'black'], and 'polisporo' means 'multi-grain,' as in a brown loaf sprinkled with all kinds of seeds before going into the oven. When I went in there for the first time in 13 months or so, she asked which of the two I'd like. See? What did I tell you in the previous post?
Now, where was I? Oh yes, so, I walked into the bakery on my way back from the mini-market and the lady in there immediately remarked on the fact that I was subconsciously rubbing the small of my back (right hand side).
"You have a problem?" She asked. "Yes, my back's playing me up this morning." I replied. All together now, her reply was [of course] "It's the igrasia."
2.15pm
Well, we've been out for our coffee and essential people-watch at the Houston Café in the plateia and, yes, I was able to upload the video from yesterday. If you haven't already seen it, it's now live on my Facebook "John Manuel - The Published Works" page. You'll get an idea as to why we had coffee in the apartment yesterday. In fact, we didn't venture out until around 8.15pm, when we went straight to Souvlakia Tou Pappou (not three minutes walk from our balcony) and ate there. While I'm on the subject, we ate a veggie pitta each with Haloumi inside, a humungus 'green' salad which was the best 'green' salad we've ever eaten anywhere - period (Yup, now and again the American version works better than the British), and a half-litre of the house white. We were stuffed and the bill was €18.50. We'll be having that green salad again and I'll photograph it to show the waiting world.
Finally, here are a few photos from today. As you'll see, the weather's behaving itself again. I did give it a good dressing down, so maybe that did the trick...
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| Blue enough for you today, then? |
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| Tables and chairs outside the Tsipouradiko Mas restaurant. We're flaming well going to eat on that beach at least once before we leave! |
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| Choccy pudding at the Houston. |
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| You see this tree standing sentinel in the centre of the Plateia (this taken from the Houston). Anyone know what this tree is called (and don't say Dimitri, all right?)? |
Didn’t realize you were on Patmos, until I recognized those tables and chairs outside the Tsipouradiko Mas! We ate there repeatedly during our stay last year. Enjoy!
ReplyDeleteAnd did you try the fava with octopus in caramelised sauce? TDF!!!
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