Aegina Home & Living - Living in Aegina

 

 

 


LIVING IN AEGINA

What is it REALLY like to live in Aegina?

 

                                                           LIVING


 

LIVING                                                                        APRIL 2015         
  

FOOD SHOPPING. LIVING. 

 

So there we were, three and me at Carrefour supermarket and having quite a social time, what with bumping into E on the way in (speaks like a typewriter, hates to listen) and were rescued from the monologue by U, one of the most creative people in existence, who was wearing the most exquisite piece of jewellery that she had crafted by hand out of the tiniest of beads, in the middle of which was an un polished amethyst. Green and purple, these colours define her, a woman who loves to listen and is less fond of speaking. Accompanied by her tall glossy daughter, a personification of good DNA whom I have known since she was a foetus, S engaged in animated bi- lingual dialogue with number 3; two God sisters with news to catch up on, they promised to meet up and we all agreed we would see each other over the Easter holidays.

We disengaged and continued our pursuit of vegan food products. Three has been observing a vegan diet since clean Monday so she headed to the chocolate section to see if she could find dark chocolate devoid of milk. It is quite boring, being a vegan and you need loads of imagination to create different dishes out of limited ingredients. Anyway she selected Pavlidis black chocolate with orange and some sachets of egg dye and I taught her how not to be seduced by large green egg boxes of 24 eggs fastened with a red ribbon, that these were not a better deal than 4 boxes of 6 in a boringly normal box. We went to put them in our trolley but couldn't find it. We checked every aisle and our friends laughed at us because I suppose it is typical of how we live, always losing things. Finally one of e assistants admitted to having put it away, the empty orphaned trolley, we were soon re- united and we popped into it our eclectic selection of products, tinned dolmades and curly lettuce, fresh garlic and a jar of tahini. The guy behind us at the till patiently waited to lay foe his beers as I peered into my coins looking for 2 cent piece. I recognised him because he had delivered and plumbed in my washing machine last year. No point in exchanging pleasantries though because he is a man of action and not words. Three impatiently plucked the necessary coins and hurriedly packed my items which actually filed 3 carrier bags plus we had 6 bottles of water.

The car's gone! she announced. I waved to U and S as they drive past in their blue Peugeot. What would they say if I told them that now we had also lost our car! They will know though because after we had scrutinised all of the cars in the car park and had to admit that indeed our car had gone, U's son came out of the shop and started to load his carrier bags onto his motorbike. What! You left your key in the ignition and your doors unlocked? What do you expect? It really is so humbling when children I have known since babyhood grow into towering adults who question my wisdom. Well it’s Aegina I lamely replied, me who had my jewels stolen from my home only one year earlier, Easter, the time for retribution, not reincarnation. Number three got onto the back of his motorbike clutching the pack of water, pleased I am sure that finally she gets to ride pillion without my shouting Helmet! He was to take her home so that she could pick up  her bike and ride down to the office to tell Mr. L the good news and she could also get a front door key because I had left mine in the car that had been stolen. A double whammy for a thief.

Soon the supermarket was humming with my plight. The guy that supervises the warehouse reckoned he knew what had happened. “Oh I expect Pavlos has taken it.” (Not his real name). “He’s not right in the head you know”. Well as far as I was concerned, Pavlos was perfectly OK and I had never any doubts about his plumbing skills or his intelligence. (Funny how people perceive each other in different ways) Kyria Despina (real name) is a manageress of admirable energy and formidable leadership skills who would be better placed running the country and within seconds she was on her motor scooter heading to Pavlos's house to inform him of his mistake. “But Kyria Despina, I only wanted a few beers so I drove my scooter and didn't take my car. I haven't got Kyria Alison's car” (he's alleged to have said).

Mr. L was now speaking to Kyrios Petros and instructing him on what to do about informing the police of the registration number of the silver Atos that was redundantly parked in the car park. Mine had been parked next to it, twins, one slightly darker than the other, the dirtier one absent. The police traced the registration to a local man who owns a car rental business and it seems that the car had been rented to an elderly Athenian couple, he a lawyer I was told by Kyria Despina. Meanwhile, the police had arrived, one tall thin male and the other a plump female. Worriedly, I asked them if the last ferry had departed, concerned that a thief might be heading to the mainland. “Oh, it hasn’t been stolen, insisted the policewoman, “someone has taken it by mistake; it happens all the time with motor bikes but you really shouldn't leave your key in the ignition” she said disdainfully and laughed as her eyes met those of Kyrios Petros. I was soon to be assigned to the ‘not quite right in the head’ community.

The story of my car was big news and many people offered all sorts of help. One of my son’s friends offered to wait with me.Kyrios Petros allowed me to use his mobile phone so that I could chat to Mr. L. ( I had left mine at home and the keys, you may remember were in the car. Finally, Kyria Despina insisted I should wait inside the shop and put my shopping on the floor as it was too heavy to hold. I actually found it quite comforting holding the shopping; it gave me some sort of purpose during my hour of shame.

The owner of the car hire company sped to the car park to meet me, full of apologies and asked if there was anything else he could do. He reassured me that the driver was on her way back with my car.

Like a faithful dog, the car returned and the driver and her husband got out to meet me, to explain how taking my car had happened and how sorry they were. You see, in the dusk, the car looked silver instead of sage green but that was probably due to the layer of dust coating the car. I was surprised that the driver hadn’t noticed that my door handle is black, a new one waiting to be re-sprayed. I didn’t dare ask if she had noticed my tissues littering the floor as this would have highlighted my messiness. Neither did I ask her about the loose steering wheel cover that limply tries to fit but can’t quite achieve the seal.

She did notice though that the boot doesn’t open with the key and she was very annoyed that her husband had left the key in the ignition. Funnily enough, it was actually in his pocket. We shook hands and I reassured her that I held no bitterness towards her; why should I? I was so pleased to get my car back I had learnt a lesson and actually, it is a sweet little story!!


 

Alison Lorentzos                                                             copyright 2015

 

 

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