Cretan Diary - Chapter 11 | |||||||||||||||||
Saturday - Chilling Out (Mike)September 26, 2009 Despite trying to sleep in, we awoke early. We breakfasted quickly and drove to the infamous Rethymnon junction, on the National Highway, where accidents seem inevitable, due to the utterly crazy road layout. We parked in a covered parking space outside the Lidl supermarket and ran across the road to the hardware store. That's me with the long hair. Jenny wanted a bradawl so, since that word isn't in my pocket dictionary, I drew a sketch then approached an assistant and showed him. "I need something like this but I don't know what it's called," I said in Greek. "Ah, ena souvli." "Boreete na to grapsete ya mena?" (Should have guessed. Meat on a spike is called "souvlaki".) He took me to the shelf where handled spikes were hidden in a box of screwdrivers. I thanked him then shuffled off to find Jenny. She was looking for waste paper baskets so I went back downstairs to search for a pull-cord for my ceiling fan. Climbing a ladder to turn it on and off was becoming tedious. I looked up the word for "cord". This was dangerous ground because it could quite easily mean "umbilical" or something equally obscure. I went back to the assistant, who tried to duck out of sight but failed to squeeze his six foot frame under the counter. "I need an umbilical one metre long for my thing that spins electrically," I said in my best Greek. He looked at me with uncertainty then pointed towards the exit. "OK, sorry," I said. "I only wanted an umbilical." He must have felt pity because he came around the counter, took me by the arm (I thought he was arresting me at the time!) and dragged me to the doorway where there was a rack of ropes so thick that they could have tied up the Queen Mary! "Kati microtero?" Then I spotted the perfect cord on a reel and made a grab for it. "Aftos!" I announced, victoriously. "Tha eethela ena metro" (which, I hoped, meant "I would like a metre" - but it could well have meant "I need the French underground".) He handed me a very sharp knife. I briefly considered suicide but thought better of it. Everyone was looking. I cut off a metre of cord and handed it to him. "I put it for my wife she pays." I said in Greek. Or something like that - he seemed to understand and nodded. During the last fortnight I have noticed that, although I have an IQ of 135, a university degree, have my own business and have published several books - as a foreigner who speaks Greek worse than a 1 year old baby, I get treated like the village idiot here! Sometimes fondly but sometimes with very little tolerance. I need to improve. I scarpered, looking for Jenny. The store is on three levels so it took a while to find her. She handed me a large plastic linen basket that was packed with stuff. I took it to the counter and picked up the cord. "Poss ton lenee afto?" I asked, determined to find out the proper word for thin cord. "Ena thoro," said the assistant, grinning. It took a full five seconds to comprend that he'd just said "a present". Oh, he wasn't charging me for it. Nice man! "Alla poss ton lenee?" I insisted, still wanting to know its name. He spoke the word for "cord" that I'd used earlier. Excellent. But now I can't remember it. I shall look it up again. It's "scheenee" or maybe "chorthee". Hmm. These are somewhat similar to "skein" and "cord". Jenny was still looking for other items, including a hanging rail for the wardrobe that you can pull down in order to reach it. Jenny described this to another helpful assistant and he asked another what it was called in Greek. "Asanser" (which means "lift") So he took us downstairs in the lift to look for one and found it! Now somebody has to install it in the wardrobe. Demonstrating the "asanser" in another wardrobe. Thanks, that's what we need!
Jenny made a pizza with local "loukaneeka" (sausages) and we had lunch on the veranda. I spilt my water over Jenny's skirt so she has hung it up to dry. (You can do that here.) Nuts to you! Christos kindly donated walnuts. I fitted a "Schuko" plug to my power supply cord - forgetting, as always, to slide the moulded cover up the cord first. So this is me fitting it for the second time. Yes, that's "Homer" on the mug. I look more like him each day. And another plug to the iron - forgetting, as always, to slide the moulded cover up the cord first! Later - it's after midnight. I managed to catch the last 5 minutes of "The X Factor". I got the times mixed up. I've washed the dishes and I'm going to bed. | |||||||||||||||||
