Yassus! It's been a while...

... and before my fellow South Africans cause themselves future irreversible forehead wrinklage in reaction to the first word of this post. 'Yassus!' is, as I learnt (amid parokolo's and calamero's), the plural form of 'Hello!' in Greek. Why Greek? Well, that's where I was this time last month... on a little island called Limnos debating quite seriously whether to top up the morning's  SPF30 application, waddle into the lukewarm bath known as the Mediterranean or vie for an ouzo over a frappé ("It's always 12 o' clock somewhere after all). Decisions, decisions... 

It was tough. At least as tough as a fortnight of siestas, lettuce-free salads and Mount Athos-framing sunsets can be. Such moments of indecision were alleviated by the presence of hubby and five of my favourite people who had kindly agreed to participate in this little escape from the places we live. If our Greek maxi-break was an episode of Friends it would have been titled: "...the one where they all beach, eat, beach, drink, beach, sleep and beach again." An 'active' holiday this was not. 


What it was, was a sense of humour restoring, olive oil infusing, pasty complexion banishing fiesta of siestas that rebelled against productivity, fully made-up faces and clock-watching. What time was it? We didn't care. Is midnight too late to eat dinner? Nobody else on the island seemed to think so. Could five South Africans survive without cellphone reception, motor cars and, gasp, biltong for a whole two weeks? Yes, yes and ('have you ever had Mediterranean mussels?') Yes! 

If you happen to be a friend of mine on Facebook or an Instagram (@mrswinderley) follower then you would have seen the photographic evidence of the Limnos loveliness book-ended by Athenian antiquities and typical tourist behaviour. So, this blog post is not about summarising it but rather about telling you some of what I've taken away from the experience, things that'll stay with me long after the much-needed (and rather impressive) tan has faded...

1. Tsatziki kicks Tomato sauce's butt! Served and eaten with pretty much everything, our Jozi home shall now be a Tsatsiki-friendly zone 'cos who knows when you'll need to make a Yiro?

2. One should (try to) never eat alone. You know when you get invited out to lunch by work colleagues but don't go because, well, you've just eaten that über dull but über responsible lunch that you packed the night before? I'm going to think twice before doing that again because meals shouldn't just be about eating. Meals should be about relationships, building 'em and forging 'em. No good memory was ever made hunching over a laptop shoveling average food out of Tupperware. And, if you do happen to have a belly full of cardboard crackerbread and lean protein when the invite comes, just say 'yes', go along and order a starter. 

3. Your body IS a bikini body. I did not see a single woman hiding under a kaftan, shying behind a sarong or self-consciously sucking in her tummy. This is not because every woman looked like a swimsuit model but rather every woman looked comfortable and confident in their own skin, whether that skin was 16 or 60. The beach was not populated by still lives of 'my tummy looks flatter if I lie on my back' but rather by action shots, by 'living'. So, I hung up my hang-ups on that beach, and I aint picking 'em up again. Besides, Clifton could do with a little hail damage and wine o' clock padding!

4. Every marriage needs a holiday. On about day three of our stay on Limnos, hubby and I were lying side-by-side on sun loungers, he in full shade, me in full sun, him busy with a Sudoku, me tapping my toes to my iPod contemplating what you'd call that particular band of blue sea between the cobalt and turquoise layers. I looked over, pulled the earphones out and looked at him. "I love this," I said. "Me too, you're my china," he replied. "Your china with benefits," I added. And we laughed. Just being together reminded us of just how good we are together. Not in the big, obvious, romantic comedy kind away but in the real "I can picture us doing just this in forty years" kinda way. 

5. Plan it. Book it. Do it. It took one of us to make it happen. The thing that all of us had been talking about making happen for years. One of us called the collective's bluff and we had no choice but to "er, um, okay" it. We had a friend with a house on a Greek island. We had an open invite. We had the means or at least the time to beg, borrow, save the means. All we had to do was stop making excuses, book the flights and worry about visa, leave, bank balances later. And, I'm so glad that we did 'cos that two weeks with those people just confirmed, in the words of my rather smart brother-in-law, it's not the stuff or the toys or the money.... "He (or she) who dies with the most memories wins."