You Can Call Me Ray, or You Can Call Me Jay, or You Can Call Me Ray Jay Junior

Midsummer Night Celebration

Midsummer Night is a celebration in Finikouunda. At 9 p.m. (it is light until 10 p.m.) a great bonfire was built on the beach and the children--hundreds of them--jumped over the flames and rolled into the surf. It was great fun to watch.

What Is My Name?


Over several years I've learned to respond to multiple names.

To my Greek friends from 2009: Tzonathan
To my new Greek friends: Yianni
To my European friends: Yann
To my friend Niko: All of the above, plus "Yanno."

Call me what you like. Just don't call me Late to Dinner.

Hope I Die Before I Get Old

The topic of ocean depths emerged in the cafe yesterday. I sat with a few local fisherman and I "bragged" with some smugness about Downeast Maine (the Bay of Fundy), with its highest tides in the world.

"And how deep is the ocean?" asked Taso. The truth is, I don't really know, so I hazarded a guess.

"It can be over a thousand feet deep in the Gulf of Maine."

I noticed a few eyes roll and some hissing and snickering.  Is was like the chorus from a Greek tragedy.

I was told (and confirmed it) that there is an ocean canyon,  25 nautical miles east of the island of Sapienza (which we can see from house), which reaches a depth of 5,120 meters--that's approaching 16,000 feet of depth.

Carry enough anchor chain, sailor!

A few miles off of Pylos, there is an international research center in physics, with a telescope located at a depth of over 4,000 meters that peers into outer space. The mission is to locate neutrinos in the galaxy.

Give Me an Excuse

If Donald Trump becomes president, I am moving to Greece.
If Hillary Clinton becomes president, I am moving to Greece.

If Bernie Sanders becomes president--by some act of Divine Grace (e.g., Hillary chokes on the vileness of her own pathological lies, her ill-gotten wealth, her complicity in war crimes and in her husband's perfidy and unveiled violence against young women), then I will stick around to be a nominal part of the solution to our nation's malaise.

But I'm not holding my breath.

Everyone (everyone) asks me in Greek: "Can that moron actually become president?"

Which moron are they talking about?

Everybody Must Get Stones

Yesterday, in the heat of the day--ill-advised as it was--I spread 4 ton of crushed marble by hand on the driveway, spread with a stiff metal rake and broadcast from rubber totes.

Fuel efficient and large enough for the entire family--including Yiayia

Today, with a borrowed wheelbarrow (a veritable innovation!), I moved the penultimate pile of rocks that have been turned up by our neighbor with his plow. Our stone wall, marking our rear border, is now over 125 meters long.

It feels as though I am enduring one of Hercules's mighty tasks. I have never worked at something so hard with such good effect.

Only two tons to go!