So the above photo is how I would like to look! In this beautifully framed photo by Al. Actually it is how I would like to be.
We are still in Crete in a kind of suspension of time when there are no decisions to be made, except which Zoom classes to do, which beach to go to for snorkelling, what to cook for supper. Of course it's not quite like that, is it. We are aware that for now, we might have our heads under the figurative duvet. We have our temporary residence permits, we have our lovely house, and we have some friendships that are maturing nicely. Then the cicadas came. OK, it's their environment and we are the invaders. Actually it doesn't really bother me, but then, I'm not a musician trying to record! The good thing is that even a small amount of amelioration really helps. My friend Rebecca who lives in Italy says that the smell of the pines and the sound of cicadas are the essence of summer for her.
Now you want to hear them, don't you? so Al has made some recordings.
So sorry that I have no beautiful photos - you will just have to use your imagination as you find yourself on a gritty sand beach with some small rocky ourcrops on your left. Turn to your right, the East and and behind a dark profile of rather jagged hills, the full moon rises. Of course, we should have waited until it was high in the sky, to get maximum light through the water, but we have underwater torches so we set out, following the reef. (We went with Phil & Shehina from across the road - they are more experienced divers than we are, but it's a calm sea, and a familiar reef). Whilst getting changed I suddenly remember that I have made many reckless night swims from boat to boat, often not entirely sober. So thus encouraged I get my wetsuit on (15 Euros from Decathlon) and we set off. And we see... well, not very much, actually. At first I follow the beam of Al’s torch, stronger than mine, and we see only rocks with no fish in sight. I had never really thought about what they do at night, but I suppose I had expected to see them swimming slowly around kind of dreamily. Of course not. They would be easy prey. So they do what we do, find a nice rocky niche and go to bed, safe from predators.
But on the way back to the shore, I went outside the beams of the torches and by that time I could see the rocky underwater landscape in the moonlight. Gorgeous. Then as we neared the beach, almost touching the sand, I saw a small bream hanging in the water column absolutely still, just a slight movement with the water, This fish was definitely asleep. It was a tiny fish but a really breathtaking sight for me. Oh, and the water was surprisingly warm.
It was worth it just to see the moonrise and be in the dark water. Next time maybe we will go early in the morning when it is still dark and see the fish waking up for breakfast. Only one life!
Below is a sunset, not quite the same beach, but you get the idea, I'm sure. I don't know how to describle the profile of the landscape.
Coronavirus: yes, it's that old thing again. Here's a very convincing piece by a researcher into aerosols. You really don't want to be in a confined space of any sort with anyone you don't already live with. If you must meet people indoors, wear a close fitting mask - that's one that moves in and out as you breath. Check in the mirror, Incidentally, I have been washing our single use masks. I don't see why not. They get a good dose of UV.