Today was good. More of a routine going on. After breakfast – the usual (toast with peach jam and butter, along with some kind of chocolate cereal and milk that my body hates) – I am told that we are going to the beach early today and grabbing breakfast at the restaurant. It’s an ozone day so extra sunblock (la crème) should be put on the kiddos. Should I heed this warning also? Rupert, not sure if I have mentioned him before. He’s the Londoner living in Greece. He’s kind of the houseboy every other day. He cleans and does all that good stuff that relieves us ladies a bit. He likes to talk to me. We native English speakers cling together. Background doesn’t matter, preferences don’t matter, just talk to me. Anyway he told me that the breeze will fool you. Once he was fooled. He ended up with “bubbles” up his back. I think bubble for the Brits are blisters for the Americans, kind of like diapers and nappies.
Rupert in the kitchen with two of the kiddos
Duties done and we are loading into the Rover. I must say that I’ve absolutely had it with sweet Prune’s American Idol season starter episode imitations, if you get my drift. I have now begun picking my spot in the car as to be opposite of her so that I don’t have her yelling, not singing, in my ear. It’s always Beyonce, Christina Aguilara, or the French rapper whose name I need to remember because I am really taking a liking to her. She could be rapping about terrorists or puppy dogs, I don’t know, but it seems as though she is talented. She’s got a little bit of anger in her which always helps artists. Will the real slim shady sil vous plais stand up?
Once I step out of the Rover I feel really sick, as it my legs will give out soon. I get ill thinking about sitting in the sun again. I tell them that I am going to the stores to walk around. My real intention is to get a Coca-Cola Light. I go into this little souvenir shop. This woman starts talking to me in Greek. I say that I speak English. She got really excited and asked where I was from. I told her and she acted as if I were a celebrity or something. She is from Montreal but was tired of them because they expected her to speak French, so she moved to Athens. She asked while I was here and I told her to story. She offered me a job. Yes, she did. She’s actually in Kithera visiting a friend and helping her in the store. In Athens she has a language institute and told me I should move there and work for her. I don’t plan on this. She tells me about George at the Super Market and he will have a Coca-Cola Light. I go there.
To my delight, I find a pack of 5 razors. I rejoiced. I forgot to bring them and I was fearful I would have a forest on my legs by the time I left here. I also bought a croissant and, of course, a Coca-Cola Light (only 85 centimes..woohoo). I go back to the beach and drink to my leisure.
We are out for a few hours and it’s time to go to the restaurant. Many starters are ordered. I have no desire to try any of them and I feel no compulsion to people-please on this day. Car sickness has left me nauseous for hours. I do, however, drink the wine. I order the chicken filet. It had taters with it. Chicken and taters, just like we do it at home. They bring watermelon for dessert. Do I want any? No. Normally I would say yes and give ‘er a try, but like I said, no desire to please today.
Back on the beach. I get a Greece burn. Call me Greece Lightening. No seriously. It’s not too terribly horrible, but the thought of being out in the sun for another 11 days in a row is. Along with all the food consumption, I am scared I am going to look like these little adolescent Greek boys that are a little too chunky in their Speedo britches with skin so dark they could be fooled for some sort of experiment gone bad. On with the 50 SPF for babies.
Back at the house, showers, pajamas, and dinner and more wine, of course. Sweet oh sweet little Angela, whom has stolen my heart, continues to blow me kisses. I started this little thing with Zac and she has caught onto it. After dinner we chased each other blowing and giving kisses. She gets so giggly when I tickle her. I was so worn out and burnt, but I can resist the sweetness of this little Frenchie. Remember, she doesn’t speak my language and je ne parle pas Francais. It’s quite interesting, I must admit.
I still feel nauseous and I wish the feeling would go away. I do wish I was back in Paris. I find myself becoming more and more introverted here. More and more I am lost in my thoughts. Today the thought of writing a book came to mind. I am getting some ideas in order, but I might give it a try. Friends have told me I should considering how many odd things have happened to me. For me, odd is inevitable.
Oh here’s the funniest thing ever. I will leave you with this. Yesterday I was getting Zacharie into his swin trunks. When he handed me his undies and shorts, he got really red. Before I could ask him why, I wiffed the most wretched smell. He sharted. If you don’t know what that means, go out and rent Along Came Polly right now. I laughed so hard and called him Mr. Poopy Pants. Since I am becoming much more cultured and fluent in French I call him Monsieur PoPo Culotte. Oh he laughs his head off every time. We’re great, he and I. What a team!
I told him to give me his best "Mr. Poopy Pants face" and this is what he did. Hystarical!
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