News today boring. Never thought I would say or write the statement.
I went through my usual news items to select topics for today’s blog. Nothing turned me on. Much news, all dull. I suspect it is because Trump is not dominating the news with his extravagant wild claims and thoughts.
Ergo, I do not want to bore you either. As a result today’s blog will have Day 12 of Greece the First Time and only a couple of items I thought might interest you.
Super Bowl! A big evening ahead.
I have learned in life that a good deed is generally repaid at some point. Even though the person performing the deed expects nothing in return.
Back in the late 1980s, I was Chairman of the Syracuse University Law school Board of Visitors. As such, I was in a position to extend many favors. And I did. The favors generally parents asking me to help get their children into law school or the University itself.
I was successful in each instance. Interestingly out of all I assisted in gaining admittance, only one did not make it. He flunked out.
There were a few instances where I did not know the parents. Whether I knew them or not, I would not offer assistance till I met with a student, reviewed his grades, etc.
I never met the parents of one student I now share with you.
The individual who handled my firm’s pension plan was a Utican and personal friend. He was big time in the pension field. For example, he represented the entire Buffalo Bills with regard to their pension plans.
He visited with me and asked if I could help in the following fashion. The Buffalo Bill’s Vice-President of Marketing had a younger brother who wanted to become an attorney. His college grades were very much on the low side. He also had a drug problem problem at one time.
I helped his brother. I think I talked with the older brother two times on the telephone.
The young man was admitted to Syracuse. Got through. Today is a partner in a major Buffalo law firm.
Beginning with the first Super Bowl game following my obtaining admittance for his brother, the Vice-President sent me two tickets every year to that year’s Super Bowl game. I don’t recall if Buffalo ever played in one.
Every year forever it seemed. The best seats!
My son and I used them every year. My recollection we attended 2 of the Supper Bowl games in New Orleans.
I assume my son now receives the tickets.
His thank you went a step further.
My oldest grandchild Sara graduated from college. She was interested in a marketing position. A request was made to the Vice-President who without an extra breath said don’t worry.
Sara immediately went to work for the Buffalo Bills in Marketing upon graduation. This was some time in the early 1990s. She is still there.
One good deed deserves another is apparently true.
In glancing through today’s news, I only came up with one item I thought interesting. Concerns sex and coronavirus.
The police recently raided a sex orgy commonly known as a swingers property in the Town of Collegian outside Paris. I label the event a sex orgy because that it is how the newspaper article identified the event.
The party was in a warehouse. Eighty one adults of all ages involved.
All 81 were arrested.
A problem arose as to what the charge should be. A sex arrest apparently was considered too heavy.
Coronavirus was and still is a major problem in France. Curfew the evening of the party was 9 pm. The raid was at 11 pm. Each of the 81 was charged with violation of curfew. Each fined 135 euros.
I suspect many at the event were persons of prominence. Nine were lawmakers from other countries.
France is not alone in breaking curfew in such fashion. Belgium, also. In fact, Belgium has a reputation in Europe for sex parties which the French call “partouges.” Belgium apparently is the country to visit for a sex party.
A small party. Only 52. A birthday party.
The party was held in a town 2 minutes from the French border. The party house was located next to a COVID clinic.
I know nothing useless about the event. Who was present, charges if any, etc.
Brussels recently had a party also. This one limited to the male sex. Twenty five involved.
I know nothing about the arrests, charges, disposition of the cases, etc.
One thing the media did carry however is that one of the participants was an MEP member. Hungary’s Jozel Szajer. He was caught bare ass going out a back window. He resigned his official position a few days later bcause of “ill health.”
Coronavirus comes into play. I assume swingers do not wear masks and do social distance. Virus infections have to be off the wall.
Thus far, France has had 3.3 million cases of coronavirus. From that number, 78,000 have died.
Belgium has Europe’s worst COVID-19 infection rate. Note the use of the term “rate.” Additional information showed Belgium to have 720,000 cases with 21,000 dead.
I label these sex orgies/swinging parties pure insanity. These are the days when coronavirus is easily acquired. How can these people not consider the danger involved.
Recall when AIDS came upon the scene. Social sex suffered an immediate death.
I am certain the Super Bowl parties last night and tonight following the game in New Orleans will violate all protective rules. New Orleans a great party town at Super Bowl time. Remember, I was there twice.
Huge clubs. People dancing shoulder to shoulder. Bodies pressed together at huge bars while people drank. Even the bathrooms a danger zone. Men and women facilitates meant nothing. Both sexes will fill the facilities together. Drugs will be rampant.
Louisiana’s numbers a month from now will be interesting. There has to be a significant rise in numbers of those infected. As will the communities from which persons came when their residents return home.
No one seems to care.
I took a walk yesterday morning. Not sure why. I really did not need the exercise. With all the steps and hills here, I am exercising constantly.
I guess I was in the mood to explore.
I went to the donkey trail. The one I spoke about yesterday. Five hundred plus steps. Side of a mountain. This time I went close.
It stunk! Big time! Of donkey urine and shit! Who would want to ride a donkey surrounded by such a stench!
As I arrived at the start, I saw a bunch of women walking up the donkey path. Beside the donkey excretions, the path is loaded with all size rocks and dirt. Not the best place from my perspective to exercise.
As soon as they reached the top, the ladies turned around and started back down.
One of them did not. I went over to speak with her. What are you ladies doing? Turns out they exercise there every morning. They walk up and down the donkey path. How many times? Till we get tired! What about the stink? We try to stay ahead of it. Why do you do it? It is 2,000 feet up and 2,000 feet down. To keep thin. But you all look thin. Oh no, she said. Look at my belly. I eat too much and have to do this.
As I was walking back to my cave accommodation along the road, a small car drove up fast. Parked on the side with the ass end of the vehicle butting out into a narrow heavily traveled road. The windows were closed. The driver got out and walked away. He obviously was looking for someone. Three or four minutes later he returned. With a wife or girl friend. Saw them come around the corner of a building. They got into the car and drove off. Sitting in the back in a car seat was a baby less than one year old.
I rented a car. Finally. Wanted to see more of the island.
A Fiat. Small. Clutch/shift. I learned on one so no problem.
I was off to Red Beach. To see the topless and totally bare women!
Santorini is a strange place to rent a car. The gas tank is empty when you pick the car up. The nearest gas station miles away. The rental place puts two liters of gasoline into the car. From two used water bottles. Then tells me it will get me to the gas station…..sometimes it is closed…..you may have a problem.
What the hell!
Off I went. As I drove, I thought what a thief. People return rented cars with gas left in the tank. He must be siphoning it out and reselling it to gas stations. After first filling some empty water bottles, of course.
I made it to the gas station. It was open.
Greek gas stations still pump your gas. They should for what it costs!
You buy by the euro. Big shot me asked for 30 euro. Gasoline is $12 American money a gallon here. Thirty euro got me 3 1/2 gallons. Not even a half a tank.
Gasoline is gold!
I will never complain in the US again about the price of gasoline. $4 a gallon would be considered a bargain, a steal, here.
My goal was Red Beach. The place for nudity.
I got lost of course. Finally found it by just driving roads that seemed to go in the direction I thought the beach was. A one half hour drive took me an hour and a half. Don’t say I should have looked at the signs. Good luck! The signs were all in Greek.
I did not mind. I got to see other parts of the island. No other part compares to Oia, I learned. Oia is heaven, not Santorini itself.
The roads suck. Driving an experience. Very narrow two lane roads. Curves frequently. Sharp curves. None gradual as in the US. The curves come up and are just there. Some very tight turns. Like the curve in a hairpin. Buses dominate. They drive 2 feet over into your lane. There is no parking on the roads. People park on the roads anyhow. Tightens the road up a bit.
All I could think of was Greece is a country that built the cave dwelling I am living in, Acropolis and the Parthenon. Why couldn’t it build better roads?
I finally ended up at Red Beach. When I stopped the car, I knew it had to be Red Beach. I was at the end of the island. The only place else I could drive was into the sea.
I had a little difficulty locating Red Beach itself. Had to walk up a relatively small mountain. Over a dirt rocky path. When I thought the water was feet away, it was not. I had merely reached the top of the knoll. As I looked down, I could see Red Beach about a quarter of a mile away.
Red Beach so called because it is lava created. A high black lava mountain surrounds it on three sides. A black beach. Black water. From the volcano eruption 3,500 years ago. Why called Red then? Because there are spottings of red on the mountain wall, beaches and in the water. Where it came from, what it is, I never found out.
My concern was how to get to the beach. Then I saw it. A narrow three foot path running around the center of the lava mountain. About mid way up. No wall. The lava mountain on one side of you and a sharp fall the other. Not for me. I opted to leave, never got to Red Beach itself. Never saw bare breasted or bare assed women. I did not care. My personal safety overcame my perversions. I am getting old.
I spent the balance of the afternoon sitting under an umbrella by the pool. Overlooking the Aegean Sea. The view spectacular.
In Key West, visitors are constantly told to walk down any street. Never know what will be found. A Seven Fish. Michael’s Restaurant. a coffee house. a corner store with great Cuban toast, a cute art gallery. Whatever.
I got off the beaten path last night. Walked down a side street. Actually an alley. I saw a bit of light in the distance. A bar, a restaurant? Down the alley I went. There it was. The Argonaut Restaurant. A taverna. Small.
A locals place. They all stared at this obvious tourist as I walked in.
A great place! The best food! Made a ton of new friends!
The tables were small carpenter work horses. A thick 4 inch slab of wood on top. Seats were small barrels with a pad to sit on.
I had a delicious sausage. Several meats. More about the sausage I cannot tell you. Fried potatoes and a salad. Stuffed wine leaves to start. Two gins. For desert that Greek specialty. I forget the name. Baklava, I think. A flaky cake buried in honey. Topped by a double espresso. The whole bill was 19 euros. About $24 American money.
I shall return!
I walked the marble walkway behind the cave apartments on the way home. The path runs on top of the caves. Great stores and restaurants along the way. It was 11 in the evening. My walk about 1/2 mile. I saw a total of 7 people.
There is no night life in Oia. At least not that I have discovered.
I spoke this morning with Nikos. Where were the people? A bad year so far, he said. People are not traveling. The economy once again. The euro problem.
Key West three years ago. But not as bad.
Another example of the poor economy. Having decided to leave Red Beach, I was thirsty. I saw a bar near where my car was parked. I walked over. What appeared to be the proprietor was seated on the porch. Water? No water. Soda. No soda. Beer? No beer. Gin? No gin. So the conversation went. I looked at him as if to say….Come on, this is a bar. He looked at me as if he could read my mind and said…..No business, out of business. He had owned and operated the place for 32 years. He had to recently close. The euro problem. No business.
I seem to make friends easily on this trip. I have a few coffee buddies. I stop by a small coffee place a couple of times a day to chat with them. We have arrived. We can understand each other. Though neither speaks the other’s language.
Santorini and the Greek Isles are mere dots on the map. Of no significant size. Perhaps of no significance. Its inhabitants simple folk. Have been here their whole lives as their ancestors before them. They do not know life as we do.
I had sensed that people here did not understand what a blog was. Even when explained, it was Greek to them. Christina the beauty parlor owner, Nikos the cave hotel owner. They smile and look at you blankly when you speak of blogs. The same reaction with my espresso drinking friends.
Most people here work to eat. What they earn goes for food and a roof over their heads. They know nothing of pensions. They will work till the day they die.
Enjoy your day!