What is that old saying about owning a boat?

There is an old saying about owning a boat.  “The happiest days of a man’s life is the day he buys a boat, and the day he sells it.”

My poor husband a living reminder of the truth in that adage.  No, he hasn’t sold his boat as yet, but he sure is thinking about it. 

If you’ve read my blog you know that I am basically an indoor girl.  Especially in the hot and humid Virginia summers.  Although I’ve gone out on the boat with him many times, it was never fun.  It’s too bumpy to read, and bumps, as you know relocate parts of one’s body to places they should not be. 

The scenery starts to look the same as if you’ve already been through that area before.  The river water doesn’t smell pleasant and is a greenish hue. So whenever I’d go out on the boat with him, I’d count the minutes till I return. Don’t judge, indoor girl, remember?

Now the first couple of years the boat worked like a charm.  Then things went south, way south. First, it didn’t like the gas.  Then, parts of the boat started to break.  Doo-dads and thingamajigs with odd sounding names were gunked, stuck or just not working. Poor husband spent more time hunched over an open engine in searing heat than getting a tan on the deck.

And last year, first time out, the boat conked out about a mile from shore making this high tech motor boat basically a rowboat. 

So he had high hopes this year.  He fixed the carburetor; one of many repairs.  Still, the little engine that once could, couldn’t. 

So more parts came.  And still, the boat was basically a land yacht. So as a last resort he checked the gas and it seems the gas just isn’t what it should be.  So now he has to remove all the gas and replace it with good gas.  And then we will see…

Until such time as this boat becomes sea-worthy again, I will sit in the air conditioning and read my books without getting motion sickness. And I will pray, if only for husband’s sake that it will be ready before the first snowfall.

For Vincent a personalized limerick:

There once was a man from up north

Who wanted his boat to go forth

He hammered and oiled

But alas he was foiled

No sailing to be henceforth

The ultimate Greek dilemma, What no breakfast?

Santorini

Recently I visited Greece on vacation, and found out something I always vaguely knew.  Greeks don’t eat breakfast.  There is an old joke about breakfast in Greece.  They say a Greek breakfast is basically a cigarette and coffee.  My husband being of Irish descent is a lover of all things breakfast.  He would be happy eating breakfast, morning, noon, night and even midnight snack!

I never could get around the ridged food list that makes up breakfast.  What law saws breakfast must contain, bacon, sausage, eggs, pancakes, or hash browns? God forbid there be pizza in there unless of course it has bacon and eggs on it.  Usually while husband munches on some crispy bacon and scrambled eggs I eat leftover Chinese food cold from a box.  Guess I never subscribed to what you are supposed to do at breakfast.

So I knew there would a culture clash when we went to Greece.  Each of our hotels included a buffet breakfast.  This breakfast consisted of olives, feta, Greek yogurt, fruits, spinach and cheese pies, homemade breads and usually a tray labeled bacon.  Bacon it seems, in Greece, is masquerading as ham.

A Chronology of Breakfast time

So the first day, poor hubby sat there looking lost while I chowed down on olives and other non-breakfast type foods. He drank a cup of watered down American type filter coffee and waited for lunch. 

On the second day, he repeated his actions of the first day.

On the third day, he tried a little of the fresh bread and complained there was no toaster, but he did go back for seconds, buttering each piece with a generous slab of fresh butter.  He tried the bacon (ham) and some cheese.  He tried some Greek coffee and fresh (yes fresh) squeezed orange juice.  Was that the hint of a smile playing with the corners of his mouth?

On the fourth day he ate with gusto.  He tried the thick creamy Greek yogurt with fig spread, feta, and some warm fresh baked breads and pastries.  He made himself some Greek coffee, and had the fresh squeezed juice.  He had finally come to terms with breaking the rules and traditions of breakfast law.  He found out there was no breakfast police.  And when in Rome, Athens, or Mykonos, you do as the romans or Greeks do. He even said, "Poli kalO" (Which means very good) when asked how it was by a waiter. 

What? No bacon?

I am not a fan of fast food but riding on the ferry for our 8 hour return trip to Athens I ate the only food available on the boat.  (It ate at was what I am sure they viewed as an American style burger stand) I innocently ordered a bacon cheeseburger and opening this sad little sandwich I saw the bland piece of ham.  Yup-- no bacon in Greece.

Greek Orthodox Cathedral

Red beach in Santorini