No Raynaud's For A Week! - Part 4
I had no intention of dancing the Zorba or throwing myself into a belly dance (that would have been interesting). My participation would be merely as a spectator but somehow I always get dragged in and that usually causes a problem! It's a problem too when the food is placed in front of you -- how do you explain that you can't eat?
My Greek does not stretch to the ins and outs of my medical condition, so I graciously accept the food, pretend to eat it and my hubby eats it for me. Steve needs to dance the Zorba afterwards to get rid of all the souvlaki, gyros and salad he consumed, not to mention wine!
The sun went down against a backdrop of a wondefull lilac and pink sky. I could smell the food cooking downstairs and a single Balalaika strumming out tunes. There was movement all around the complex as chairs and tables scraped the marble floors. The pool was empty of people but sparkled against the sunset. I was ready first. I didn't need much make up since my face had turned a healthy colour instead of the pale palour I'm used to. I wore a strappy top and felt warm all over.
We left the apartment and wandered downstairs. It was almost dark but we walked into the area which was lit with candles. Everyone was at the bar and wandering around. We were shown to our table by George and one by one everyone sat down. I sat facing an Irish couple who had never been to Greece before and looked a little nervous especially when the music began and two Cretan dancers skipped into the the marbled area.
"Do they expect us to do that?" They asked.
"No, just kick your legs a bit and you'll be fine," I replied as they clapped their hands in time with everyone else.
The food arrived, Steve ate mine and some of Steph's as well -- she was full! The dancers began to wander around choosing people to dance with. I went conveniently to the toilet at that point and when I returned there were lots of people dancing and tripping over each other's feet.
I thought hubby was having some kind of fit until I realised he was trying to dance. His belly bounced up and down as he kicked his legs in the air, it looked so funny that my stomach ached with laughter. It wasn't funny though when one of the dancers took my arm. I tried my best to be polite and make fun of myself not being able to jump around until finally I said a resounding No!
I hate to dissappoint the Greeks but I simply can't jump around. George understood because he'd seen my peg tube when I was round the pool. He never enquired what it was for, but he came to my rescue and explained to the dancer that I should be excluded from taking part. He sat down with me afterwards and I explained why I had the tube. He looked sad and very concerned but I was upbeat. I lifted my arms in the air and said "Hey, no worries -- I'm okay!"
With that he smiled and brought me a fizzy drink "On me" He said!
The karaoke began with several tipsy people killing a song. As the night went on it went louder and louder and everyone thought they could belt out a tune. If any talent scouts had been there they'd have stuck their heads in the pool -- if another Elvis got up, I was going back to the room. We had Tom Jones on our table -- It's not unusual! he sang, well from where I was sitting it was exactly that, it was a very unusual Tom Jones. -- Brits abroad, you can't beat em!
George came in, "Shhhh everyone, the hotel next door is complaining about the noise"
That was like waving a red flag to a bull and everyone joined in louder than before. It was 11.30 and certainly not that late in the evening when you're on holiday. The Greeks found it highly amusing that we all sang "We'll Meet Again" and then all the old wartime tunes. No tact have the Brits, but they were all laughing and I have to admit it was rather humourous, especially when the Greeks joined in too!
The night ended with just a few people sat around the bar. I'd stayed till the end. We chatted for a while until I began to yawn and my daughter was slowly closing her eyes. Time for bed.
No show for Raynauds!