Wednesday, June 1, 2016

Girl in a Steel Tank

                                   
Living on Ikaria, especially during the dry summer months requires one to be duly concerned about water conservation and usage. The fresh water supply is controlled by the local entities and in our situation by the village water authorities. As such, they try to regulate and conserve as much water as possible during these arid periods. Most locals have some kind of water reservoir placed on the roof of their homes.These reservoirs can hold anywhere from about fifty gallons to several hundred gallons of water, depending on their size and shape.

We also had a reservoir perched on top of our roof, one made of metal, painted bright green (I don't know why) by my father. The life span of such a metal box before it tends to rust out and leak water all over the roof is determined by how well it is maintained. Since the water entering the reservoir comes directly from the mountains, it is unfiltered and contains small amounts of dirt and sand, that through time accumulate at the bottom of the cistern. About once a year or so this sediment needs to be removed. One would assume some kind of flushing mechanism would be installed in the water tanks, but no, that was not the case with our tank, that would be too convenient. In order to clean out the insides, the flow to the tank would have to be turned off, and all the retained water would have to be drained, leaving a few inches of water in the bottom along with the build-up. This presents a problem of how to remove the accumulated watery grime.The top opening of our tank was no bigger than the size of a regular manila folder. It would be pried open then someone would stick a mop in thru the opening slush around the remaining water and sediment and hope that most of it would exit out the outflow pipe.

This was not a very effective way of debris removal as my plumber, Niko remarked the day he came to clean out the tank. Jokingly, he suggested a better way would be to have a small person in the tank with a mop and sponge to soak up all the water and sediment. Taking his peculiar suggestion literally, my mind immediately flashed to the only individual diminutive enough to fit through the small opening, my eight year old daughter, Andrea. It took some coaxing and assurances that there were no snakes, lizards, or other such creepy monsters inhabiting the dark and spooky water tank.I reassured her the plumber and I would be outside the tank at all times, holding flashlights and shining the way for her. After a few moments of deep thought and the possibility of acquiring another Barbie doll for her collection, Andrea gallantly agreed to this unusual plumbing experiment.

Lifting her up over the metal opening I slowly lowered her into the foreboding, green, watery repository, while the disbelieving plumber shined a rather dim light into the cavernous tank. I handed her a bucket, a sponge, and a mop. Cautiously, I coached her to crawl from corner to corner removing the damp sediment. In less than fifteen minutes, either out of fear or claustrophobia, she emerged clutching the bucket in her little hands, and reeking of dampness. Her bathing suit, once a brilliant Barbie pink, now crusted over with mud, was the shade of bubble gum infused with chocolate syrup. Happily though, she acknowledged the bravery she exhibited in the daunting feat of cleaning out the disgusting water tank. It wasn't till later that same afternoon that she emphatically swore on a pile of Barbies that she would never go into that tank again. 



To this very day in the kafenion around our village, the story of the brave eight year old girl,who was lowered into and cleaned out a damp, dirty water tank is still being told by a retired plumber, while thinking out loud to himself, "What is wrong with her father?" 

Wednesday, March 16, 2016

Stubbed Toes, Bruised Egos

Topping off the list of natural wonders on Ikaria is the diversity of beautiful and exotic beaches. Some are tucked out-of-the-way secluded beaches others are umbrella laced sandy beaches stretching for several kilometers. The north side of the island has the fine white to gray sandy beaches, that one can find in semi-tropical places like Florida. The south side however, is rutted with numerous beaches made up with everything from giant boulders to small pebbles. They are round and smooth, made of quartz, basalt or marble. Negotiating such a beach setting becomes quite a Herculean effort for those used to granular type beaches of let’s say California or the Great Lakes. One fascinating activity for me to watch is the first time beachgoer getting around the slippery rocky beaches.

What follows is a typical entry and exit into and out of the Aegean waters. Leaving the cool shade of the sea pines, the first obstacle one faces is how to overcome the scorching heat radiating from the stones that have been baked all day by the Greek sun. Some sort of footwear is definitely required as to not burn one’s feet. As one carefully walks to the water’s edge, the footwear is removed, and immediately one is confronted with the wet, slippery rocks. Now, extreme balance is required to enter the water without falling on one’s face, or turning an ankle in a desperate maneuver of water access. There are only two options for this tricky entry. Very popular with the young is the macho dive, in which one takes running leaps to the edge of the water. They run so fast that their feet never seem to touch the hot rocks. When the water looks barely deep enough to be safe, they dive head first into the chilly Aegean. Using this technique one avoids having to traverse the rocky bottom.
Then there is the exact opposite, the calculated creep, usually employed by the older crowd. Here one cautiously and methodically approaches the water, gingerly enters while trying to maintain balance on the treacherous rocks. When comfortable enough, one submerges their torso into the refreshing water, trying desperately to dodge splashing children and knock-you down waves.
After enjoying a cool swim in the Aegean, the arduous task of exiting commences. One’s first attempt might be to waddle out of the water like a duck, pushing up the rocky incline. With arms flailing wildly, one quickly realizes walking on just heels makes one slip back in the water, with no traction, and  guarantees the of stubbing of a toe or two. Another type of exiting is the salamander walk. Basically this requires one to bend over and crawl out of the water on all fours. This makes one look like an early amphibian crawling out of the primeval ooze. This technique, ungraceful as it is, will work if there are no waves, or else one will be repeatedly pelted in the face by the constant watery action. Sometimes walking backwards out of the water works, but then not being able to see behind oneself is a hazard. Slipping on a slick, algae covered rock and ending up on one’s derriere is a high probability.


The best way of exiting, to me, seems that one should stand erect, slightly bent at the waist, using only the toes and balls of the feet, with arms spread out for balance. Take small steady steps towards dry land, while looking down in front to navigate around any obstacles. Once on shore, one’s immediate instinct is to dart quickly back to the shade of the sea pines. Moving expeditiously over the searing rocks you arrive at your sheltered destination only to look around, realizing disappointedly that your sandals are at the edge of the water, twenty-five scorching meters away.