Taverna cat
Last night we had a delightful dinner with a one eyed, one ear, balding in patches, guy with a limp. Every Taverna has Taverna cats. They tend to be a little smaller and more alert than the cats we are used to. Like a menu they are an integral part of the taverna, not tolerated but accepted. We often see piles of friskies left in the corner for them to eat. They are missing ears or limp, they come in many different colors. The most common colors are gold and white or black and white. When your table is attended by more than one cat there is a hierarchy that quickly becomes apparent, by the hissing and howling at your feet. We were at a lovely Italian taverna on the water and I made the mistake of passing a grilled mushroom to the cat near me without signaling Colleen who was being hosted by the alpha cat. I should have told Colleen to drop something simultaneously. Brielle was unfortunately in the middle battle ground area and the alpha cat shot across Brielle's feet and grabbed the mushroom before it hit the ground. Needless to say no one was happy with me, lesson learned. One morning we woke to a white and gold taverna cat asleep in the back cockpit, she stretched and came in for breakfast which of course we obliged. Our hospitality stopped, when she started exploring the rest of the inside of the boat. After that we brought up our gangplank, and somehow ended up with two cats curled up on the back benches the flowing morning
Everyone has a gangplank that they run off the back off the boat to reach shore when med mooring. Some are simple 2x8 boards, others are bottom lit and extend with the push of a button. Ours folds neatly in the locker. After backing in and tying up, but before you can drink a beer, you pull it out and fight it into position, the two pieces trapping any errant skin like a crabs pincer. Our gangplank, or passerele as the french call it, is woefully short in all but the best circumstances. Which leaves you the choice of leaping across to the concrete wall and risking a broken something, or pulling the boat closer to the wall, and risking a broken boat. You then must scurry across before the passerelle is no longer touching the wall. This challenge is compounded exponentially after a few drinks. The really long 2x8 board is looking better and better.
We have been biting the bullet and med mooring more, the key for us is to arrive early, and aim for a large space. It's still a crazy way to do things, a few nights ago we backed up into a large space, then a sailboat filled the space next to us, fair enough. When we got back from walking the town some how a large catamaran had shoe horned between our boats. The next morning when we left, we shot out like a watermelon seed. The people in the boat that had crammed in, didn't look us in the eye or even come on deck. Colleen was giving them the stinkeye over her coffee, I'm certain that shut them right down.
We even jumped to the next level of med mooring, and backed up in town next to the square, instead of on the road at the edge of the town. There was a ready made audience of old men, that gave us a lot of advice on tying up, and how to hook up to water and electric. It was well worth it, in the square we have front seats to the stroll. The evening stroll starts about 7pm. We went for a walk at 5pm and the town was shuttered and empty, when we went back through at 8pm, the cafes had filled up and the stroll was at its height. After studying it for a few nights I found that the stroll is carefully choreographed by an unseen hand, probably the mothers preparing dinner. The strolls warm up act is squads of boys, in groups of four, on bikes. They ride too fast, and pop wheelies, while checking out the girls strolling to the gelato place. This is followed by mothers with carriages and little kids in tow. The little kids are deposited at the square and play games and chase taverna cats, while the mothers line up the baby carriages at the cafe. The next act are couples dressed up going to dinner, some on vacation staying at the hotel down the way, they are pale white and jump out of the way when the boys are popping wheelies. The local couples are slower and say hello (yasass in Greek) to everyone, the boys and kids underfoot have no impact on them. The last group are old men with hands behind their backs who have been sitting at the cafes all day and are probably heading home. They are followed up by young hip teens in groups heading to the coffee shop.
I think the places we have visited in Greece have tolerated, and accepted the visiting boat, our visiting boat, into their world. I think its probably because they accept, the fast bikes, the kids running crazy underfoot, they give way to the baby carriage, they look out for the old man walking by, but most importantly they make sure the Taverna cat is well fed, and of course has a place to rest its head, on our boat!
Everyone has a gangplank that they run off the back off the boat to reach shore when med mooring. Some are simple 2x8 boards, others are bottom lit and extend with the push of a button. Ours folds neatly in the locker. After backing in and tying up, but before you can drink a beer, you pull it out and fight it into position, the two pieces trapping any errant skin like a crabs pincer. Our gangplank, or passerele as the french call it, is woefully short in all but the best circumstances. Which leaves you the choice of leaping across to the concrete wall and risking a broken something, or pulling the boat closer to the wall, and risking a broken boat. You then must scurry across before the passerelle is no longer touching the wall. This challenge is compounded exponentially after a few drinks. The really long 2x8 board is looking better and better.
We have been biting the bullet and med mooring more, the key for us is to arrive early, and aim for a large space. It's still a crazy way to do things, a few nights ago we backed up into a large space, then a sailboat filled the space next to us, fair enough. When we got back from walking the town some how a large catamaran had shoe horned between our boats. The next morning when we left, we shot out like a watermelon seed. The people in the boat that had crammed in, didn't look us in the eye or even come on deck. Colleen was giving them the stinkeye over her coffee, I'm certain that shut them right down.
We even jumped to the next level of med mooring, and backed up in town next to the square, instead of on the road at the edge of the town. There was a ready made audience of old men, that gave us a lot of advice on tying up, and how to hook up to water and electric. It was well worth it, in the square we have front seats to the stroll. The evening stroll starts about 7pm. We went for a walk at 5pm and the town was shuttered and empty, when we went back through at 8pm, the cafes had filled up and the stroll was at its height. After studying it for a few nights I found that the stroll is carefully choreographed by an unseen hand, probably the mothers preparing dinner. The strolls warm up act is squads of boys, in groups of four, on bikes. They ride too fast, and pop wheelies, while checking out the girls strolling to the gelato place. This is followed by mothers with carriages and little kids in tow. The little kids are deposited at the square and play games and chase taverna cats, while the mothers line up the baby carriages at the cafe. The next act are couples dressed up going to dinner, some on vacation staying at the hotel down the way, they are pale white and jump out of the way when the boys are popping wheelies. The local couples are slower and say hello (yasass in Greek) to everyone, the boys and kids underfoot have no impact on them. The last group are old men with hands behind their backs who have been sitting at the cafes all day and are probably heading home. They are followed up by young hip teens in groups heading to the coffee shop.
I think the places we have visited in Greece have tolerated, and accepted the visiting boat, our visiting boat, into their world. I think its probably because they accept, the fast bikes, the kids running crazy underfoot, they give way to the baby carriage, they look out for the old man walking by, but most importantly they make sure the Taverna cat is well fed, and of course has a place to rest its head, on our boat!
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