Trying to catch up on the blog, I thought I’d mention the sirocco that hit the island of Paros about a week ago. Paros almost got blown all the way to Thessalonki. Seriously. It was one vicious wind, worse than it was even in winter. Not cold. Just incredibly windy.
Trees came down all over the place, leaves and broken twigs filled the small cobblestoned streets, anything that wasn’t tied down was lost. I found clothing around the neighbourhood, blown off clothes lines. My uncle lost the eski off his verandah – it was found in two pieces in parts of the surrounding neighbourhood.
Like anything, its a matter of perspective.
To me it was noisy and annoying, but no big deal. The window in the 2nd bedroom blew open and I couldn’t get it shut, but hey, no worries. I fixed it the next day. The bigger deal was the alarm or phone that rang every 5-10 minutes in a neighbouring house all night long. Timed perfectly so that you couldn’t get to sleep cause you were waiting for the next ring, then just as you were slipping off it would ring again. Grrr.
But to other people, the sirocco was a lot more trouble.
To my uncle Taki it meant a whole lot of work. He complained that all day he was running around with a screw driver in his hand, fixing things which the wind had blown open, blown apart or blown away.
To my uncle George it was a disaster. The wind had broken his apricot tree and he’d lost all his tomato plants.
Everyone has a different perspective.
I’m glad those winds don’t happen often but its ok. I’m used to strong winds. I lived in Tasmania where sometimes buildings would lose their roof.
ps… still haven’t met my toy poodle yet…