By the sea, by the sea
Every year around this time, the Slavs head to Constanta, Cris’s home town, for some sea air and water, and, usually, some scorching heat with 150% humidity.
This year, the weather has been unnaturally friendly and there’s no scorching before heat. There isn’t even much of a heat to speak of. It’s pleasantly warm — the perfect weather for some fun on the beach, which, in our family, mostly means frolicking in the water.
The health benefits of seawater and seaside air have been copiously documented and proven. Spending time by the sea helps with a thousand things, from wounds to hay fever, as empirically reported by the Slavs. Ditto mosquito bites.
The sea, of course, also heals the mind — just looking at the vastness of it, even if that vastness is imaginary, the Black Sea being a rather tiny one as seas go — makes petty stuff like politics, inflation, the three idiot drivers who risked head-on collisions on the way here by high-risk overtaking, and the price of petrol disappear, at least temporarily.
Seashells are tiny wonders of nature, a source of engineering inspiration, symbols of summer romance, and just plain great to look at. Seaweed is also a wonder of nature that can be turned into food and fuel. Fine to look at but not so fine to swim through.
Some seashells are straight out ugly. Or are they? Beauty is usually about symmetry or pattern regularity. Usually. Sometimes, however, it’s the asymmetrical, almost random shapes that give joy. At least to us.
Normally, we go through a day at the beach without incidents but this time we had a first. Irina got what can only be described as near-frostbite. On the beach. In 30 C heat. Because it was windy and the water was rather cold. And also age, alas, is a factor in blood circulation.
Cris advised some running to get the pump working better so blood can reach her fingers, which obviously led to an embarrassing race between the women of the family to the end of the beach and back. But it worked and this one did not die by frostbite at the beach in 30 C heat.
Vlad did not go to the beach. Contrary to some earlier expectations, Vlad does not like the beach. He does not view it as one giant litterbox. He does not enjoy the company of seagulls. So he stayed at home, in his favourite spot on top of the wardrobe.