Saturday, July 19, 2014

The Beauty of the Greek Sea.


I’m telling you right now you’re all just going to hate this post. I mean HATE it. 

It reflects my day today (Friday) when I should have been writing this post, but accepted a last minute invitation from a most gracious friend that I join her and seven other lovely ladies for a sail to the nearby virginal island of Rhenia, a swim, and lunch aboard her seventy-three foot, breathtaking yawl. 

Let’s weigh the decision: In one corner we have eight ladies and I aboard a 73 foot sailboat cruising the sapphire and emerald Aegean, and in the other me in my room facing a computer screen for eight hours all alone but for 73 cups of coffee.

Sorry folks.  To paraphrase the famous t-shirt, “Jeffrey went to nirvana and all I got were these lousy photos.”

Yep, but if it’s any consolation I think I may be sunburned.

By the way, I had another blog due to go up tomorrow (Saturday) on my publisher’s blogsite (Poisoned Pen Press), but I’d written it before abandoning my computer this morning. It’s all about a poem I’m reading at the Tinos International Literary Festival next week on the neighboring Cycladic island of Tinos.  So, if you want to see my words (and poem) they’re there.  But I’ll be here, staring at the photos.

Heading away from Mykonos


 Neighboring and passing ships

Yes, that's a helicopter at the stern.

Approaching Rhenia


Our swimming hole



Lunch time
Recuperating
Heading home
Bye-Bye Beauty


Jeff—Sunburned Saturday

25 comments:

  1. Thanks for the boat ride, Jeff. At least vicarious travelers don't get sunburnt. Michael, I still haven't forgiven you for the Chassagne. Perhaps, I never will.

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    1. Oh, I forgot to mention, Annamaria, they served a Chassagne 2009. :)

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    2. Yes, but that was on the yacht with the helicopter. You can't make me envious that I missed a sailboat ride with seven women and just one man, even if that man is you, Jeff.

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    3. It was eight women. And oh, I forgot to mention the three hunky male crew members...out of respect for your pitter-patter ticker. :)

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    1. Yes, Mark, the sea will be here waiting for you. Promise. :)

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    2. What was that secret message from Mark? Women of MIE, here is our plot twist! Who can hack the system and find out the secret message (Mission Impossible?) received by Jeff but then deleted by Mark.

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  3. I don't believe it for a moment. You are, after all, a writer of fiction...

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    1. Perfectly understandable, Everett, as I realize how hard it must be for one from the Northern Territories to recognize--let alone accept--sunny skies.

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  4. It's a tough job, but someone's got to do it... and the only reason I can be generous about it is because in a few days' time I'm heading off to Greece as well (yacht is not in the offing, though...)

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    1. I'm glad you appreciate all the hard work this involves. Next week, when you're in Hellas, I'll sympathize with you accordingly. Kalo Taxidhi!

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  5. So here's a plot. A man gets on a boat with seven women called Yrsa, Annamaria, Caro, Cara, Lisa, Zoe etc etc. He disappears. They drink his wine and sail off into the sunset. They spend his money on little black dresses. He is never seen again. He is only remembered by his photographs......

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    1. And the intense smile across his face...

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  6. The yacht docks in Marseilles. Connections will be made, Louboutin heels purchased...

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    1. And the blood red soles of the Louboutin heels offer the only clue....

      Herve Leger will be pleased.

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  7. I'm in, Caro. I have the dress. Will shop for the heels tomorrow. I will bring Chassagne Montrachet. Much as I adore her, PLEASE don't leave the snack purchases to Yrsa.

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    1. The prospective victim is becoming a wee bit anxious at all the spontaneous enthusiasm for the project.

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  8. Sounds like a plot for a multi-authored book. Each writer could write a chapter. You've got the characters, location, and even their dress and potential murder weapon -- the heels.

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    1. And as they turn in each chapter, Kathy D, they get stomped to death?

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  9. No Jeff.... It's more like Murder on the Orient Express. The body of the pathetic guy has multiple stiletto heel wounds. Nobody knows who dealt the fatal wound (insert fiendish snigger here). The body has traces of shark meat, snail, haggis, New York Bagel........

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    1. I get it, Caro, sort of how I feel after a weekend at a Literary Festival where I was the only mystery writer among eighteen poets. :)

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  10. I can't imagine even thinking of murder being on a boat like that in the Greek seas. Just beautiful.

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