Aaaaaaaaah.......

Aaaaaaaaah.........

We have had a day where the only things on the agenda were, sit on beach, stay hydrated, play in the water, repeat.  I'm proud to announce, we have accomplished our goals!  

Of course we managed to squeeze in things like, ride bikes, shop, cook on ridiculously small grills, and (my personal favorite) eat.  It feels good to not have to write about a situation that only happens to our family for a change.  Tracking a bear while getting lost on a thirty minute bike ride...that's us.  Discovering that a child's toy could have a suggestive humorous meaning...oh yeah.  Noticing that someone had placed a sign (a sign? Really?) pointing to a place where visually impaired people should go...perhaps three times a week.  Having a day where nothing quirky happens...unheard of!

Well, there was that one thing...

It's nothing really, but I suppose I should write about something...

While sitting equidistant between our camper and the Adriatic Sea, we were privy to some atypical sights.  I considered writing that there must have been a sale on swimwear, everything was half off.  But that wouldn't be the truth.  Sylvia warned the family that we may encounter people unashamed of their body.  So far, the most we've noticed is that men who didn't bring a suit are perfectly happy walking to and fro in their underwear...at least it seems that way.  Also, I cannot read Italian but I suspect the fashion magazines must have on the cover, "How to have a bikini body!  Step one: Put one on...you're done."  (I actually saw that as a friend's Facebook status a while back...it fits here.)  Bravo Italy.  Shame on you America.  But I don't have nearly enough knowledge for this to sink to being a fashion blog.  

No, the thing I wanted to write about are the beach vendors.  The one you notice first, for obvious reasons, is the kite salesman.  Now remember, I cannot put pictures so you'll have to imagine.  There is a man walking up (and down) the beach, with a single string, flying three stories high, with about a dozen different kites, tied about three feet apart.  In a gale force wind I can manage to keep one kite aloft for a little while before it starts to spiral out of control and crash land on the earth.  This guy has twelve doing exactly what he wants, while carrying a bundle of rolled up kites for sale...in a slight breeze.  Charlie Brown would just punch this guy right in the mouth.  

The next vendors I noticed had very little overheard so they could keep their prices low.  If you have a four by four sheet of cardboard, you have the makings of a thriving business!  The most curious of these was the guy selling row after row of cell phone cases.  I am not in the habit of replacing my cell phone case unless it breaks, which it doesn't, so I don't.  But I don't think I would ever choose to take my case off on the beach.  Or is it just me?  One thing I know about the business of sales is that if you don't sell anything, you have no business.  This guy had a business so I guess he sold something sometime.

I saw people selling bracelets, necklaces, keychains, trinkets, and sunglasses (our clan bought three pair for the price he quoted for one) but the winner has to be the guy selling "thailandese" massages.  Now my uncle lives in Thailand and he has told me a story about what some people expect from a Thailand massage...that is not what was happening here.  This person had a cardboard plaque (go figure) that had detailed drawings of feet.  Next to them were Asian characters (not Thai) and lines that pointed to different parts of the foot.  I have seen medical looking drawings like these before but never glued to cardboard.  I'm not sure but I'm sure that the foot labels noted things like heart kidney, and spleen.  If you ask me, the labels that pointed to the toes denoted things like, "went to market,"  "roast beef," and "wee wee wee all the way home" but that might just be me.  

Apparently Sylvia's aunt has taken advantage of the thailandese massage so we allowed him to haggle, persist, and write notes in the sand until we agreed on ten Euros for half an hour.  This was quite a sight since our group had fluent German, English, and French and more than a rudimentary knowledge of Italian and Spanish...this guy understood none of that.  We managed anyway.   

One of the members of our clan has had issues with swollen feet since the plane for a while and we all thought that this might help.  This guy set to work and massaged, and squeezed, and patted, and rubbed for a little longer than half an hour then pantomimed that he was going to wash his hands (walk down to the sea and rub his hands together in the water) and we all had to agree, the swelling had ebbed...and has been better ever since.  

I don't want to tell you which one of us was the recipient of the massage (or which people followed suit) but I will tell you that it wasn't me.  I have a "thing" with my feet.  They always hurt, they are extremely ticklish, and lately they have been to the doctor more often than any other part of my body.  Usually the first doctor will call others in to stand around and scratch their heads and take pictures.  I didn't want to risk causing some unknown problem to jump start this far away from my doctor(s).  Besides, I have a sneaking suspicion that my spleen is hanging on by a thread...I don't think I want anyone tickling my spleen spot!