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Maria Alexander

(s)Word Slinger

Category: Mediterranean

I Sailed

When we boarded, we took off our shoes and in no time I was climbing around that 30-foot sailboat like a monkey. We headed out from Le Vieux Port in Marseilles and circled the Frioul Archipelago. We spotted the Château d’If on one of the islands, where Alexander Dumas set The Count of Monte Cristo. I only regret that I didn’t take more pictures, including one of me piloting (Captain Em was very brave letting me do that, I tell ya). I’d said to hell with worrying about the camera and brought it, but I didn’t even feel like dragging it out until we were almost back to port. The ocean rocking was so relaxing that I fell asleep on top of the boat at one point. I awoke with a snap when the boat listed and I realized I was rolling off. Ha!

Last night, the land sickness set in after we’d been to the supermarket, came home, and started unloading the groceries. I’d remembered the land sickness but thought that since it didn’t hit me in the supermarket, it wasn’t going to happen. Ooooo, wrong, wrong. The world, she was a-swayin’!

A truly great day, thanks to our French friends Em and A.

Sailing, Bailing but Hopefully Not Ailing

Tomorrow I throw all sanity to the Mistral winds and go sailing in the Mediterranean.

That excursion sounds nice, but only to someone who wasn’t savagely injured the last and only time they were on a boat 15 years ago. (Okay, maybe “savagely” is a bit strong, as I didn’t lose any limbs, but I was pretty badly hurt and the pain didn’t go away for about a year until I was treated for a month by a chiropractor.)

Hopefully I won’t have to worry about anything more than wearing enough sunscreen. The Frenchman has been alerted that I do not like boats as a result but that I’m willing to give anything a second try. Especially if the Mediterranean is involved. I’m leaving the camera at home as I don’t want to worry about anything but me getting wet.

Yesterday, I was having lunch with Special K and we spotted tourists with a dog covered in black and brown dread locks. It had so many of these nasty ropes hanging in its doggy face that we couldn’t even see what breed it was. Clearly it must have been a Rasta Beagle or something they don’t grow in L.A. because of fire hazards.

Right. Back to whatever it was.

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