After the day of critical repairs came the Jewish festival of Shavuot.
In this marina is a clubhouse called The Porthole and I found a snug corner to sleep. I figured it was late enough in the evening so that no one would notice me and I'd be out in the morning before breakfast.
I was almost asleep in my corner when I heard the door open.
"I don't see anyone here." A man's voice said.
A woman answered, "I saw someone come in; I'm sure of it."
I lay in my corner and hoped they'd leave.
"Maybe he went out a window," the man said. They began inspecting the windows. It was only a matter of time until I was found. I stood up to introduce myself. The heavyset middle aged nosy woman saw me first and began to scream a high pitched alarm to alert the marina and surrounding countryside of my presence.
The man next to her was temporarily stunned by the force of the ongoing wail.
When it subsided he and I reclaimed control of our facilities. We rolled initiative and he won.
"YOU THERE!" He said pointing at me and leaning in as though bracing for finger impact.
"Hi," I got out.
Neither of us knew where to go from there. He continued to point at me and I waited. The moment passed.
"Who are you?" He asked. The woman stood behind him, so that he could shield her.
"I'm Dov. I kayaked here from Spain. I was hoping I could sleep here but I now recognize that's not okay so I'll be on my way. I'm sorry I startled you."
They were startled. "That's right it's not okay."
I quickly gathered up my sleeping things and left.
I slept on the grass. No mosquitoes buzzed so I slept well.
The next day a group of sailors approached me. They applauded my trip and casually mentioned that I should sleep in The Porthole during my stay and not outside. I apologized for scaring the people the night before.
After a thunderstorm I got ready to launch. I was all packed and ready to go when I found Wolfgang putting one last layer of finish on my storm paddle. It would be dry in four hours.
I launched in the afternoon.
A strong tailwind was forecast. A strong headwind came. The swell was at least a meter, maybe twice that. More thunderstorms were forecast for the afternoon. After an hour I turned around, and made it back to the harbor in time for the next bout of lightning.
I met a really nice dog and we fell in love. We sat under a tree and I ate cheese spread on fresh bread with pickled peppers.
For many years now have felt that my mouth is right handed, that is, the right side of my mouth feels better at chewing then the left. Just as I have overused my left hand over the years to teach it the skills of my right, I have also been chewing on on the left side of my mouth to develop ambidextrous chewing skills.
Chewing my food, something felt different, almost as though there was a layer of plastic wrap through one of my teeth. I tried to work it out with extra chewing, and it seemed to work.
There was a stone in my bread. I often find stones in my lentils, but this was the first time I ever found one in my bread. I picked it out from between my teeth and threw it into the grass.
I chewed some more and realized that I was missing half of a molar.
With the help of the marina’s friendly manager, I found my way to a dentist. He told me that the tooth was infected, and if I didn’t get surgery the infection would work it’s way into my brain and kill me by Monday night.
He had an opening Monday afternoon and I should come back then.
I walked to my boat for a rolling session. I held my phone in my hand and listened to a Star Trek episode with headphones. My dog friend leaped up to tell me how much he loved me. On his way back down he caught the headphone wire and yanked my phone to the ground where the screen cracked badly.
I took the phone into town. I found many phone shops that could not repair it and one that could. They made a phone call for me. Then the proprietor rode off on his motorcycle and left me alone in the store. When he came back he had a price, 500 lira (~$250). I found another store that could not fix it, but assured me that if they could it would only cost me 300 lira. I’ll try again in Antalya, hopefully with more luck. Hopefully my phone will remain functional until I get there.
It turns out those big wooden double masted sail boats I see everywhere are called gulets. That’s good to know.
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