I was also mesmerized by the perfectly crystal-clear view from the water surface into the sea's depths and it's that clearness that makes its water so ideal for snorkeling.
So, first the snorkeling: Nick and Fotis peddled out to the deeper water. I put on the mask and the breathing tube. Nick explained to me that I needed to stay at the surface of the water so I could breathe through the tube.
"Okay? Do you understand? Don't go under or the breathing tube will fill with water. Okay?" Nick has this way of repeating the same thing several times.
So I responded something like, "okay, okay. I get it."
And then I put my hands over my head and dove off the paddle boat, head first -- deep into the water's depths, holding my breath for as long as I could and then surfacing to see them yelling and gesturing wildly.
Oh yeah. That's right. I was supposed to stay at the surface. But it was pretty fantastic, swimming down there among the fish and above underwater mountains and valleys. It had something of the sensation of flying above a mountainous terrain--except the part where I ran out of breath and had to surface.
Nick and Fotis were shaking their heads in unison, probably thinking dumb American. I had the unpleasant task of representing all of North America, back in those days, as I'd been the first American many of the villagers had ever met. Nick and Fotis again explained the importance of staying on the surface so I could breath through the breathing tube. They said that they thought I had surely drowned . . . but I'd like to make it clear--neither of them jumped in to save me.
But then a motor boat came toward us.
A man with two beautiful blond women, both wearing bikini bottoms smaller than fig leaves and nothing else, came to our rescue. And of course, it was not the man who threw the rope to us, but rather one of the women with her two gorgeous breasts, flopping back and forth as she tried to throw the rope onto the paddle boat. And all of a sudden my sweet husband and my dear brother-in-law seemed completely unable to catch it so it had to be thrown again and again and again. In those days, the early 1980s, topless women bathers were the norm. I was usually the oddball, covered from neck to knees. But rarely were the body types as perfect as these two women (heavy sigh).
As both men leaned over the front of the paddle boat, their arms having suddenly turned to jelly, I pictured my foot kicking their butts into the sea. But of course, I just sat there as we finally got towed back to Lichnos.
The Nifi and Your Own Kind are available in paperback and ebook. And they are free with Kindle Unlimited. I hope you'll give one of them a try!